North Korea's barbecue boom: A taste of prosperity or a widening divide?

Pyongyang's rollout of 13 upscale bulgogi restaurants across the country in just over a month signals a push to project prosperity, but experts question who can afford to eat there

North Korea is opening upscale Korean barbecue restaurants at a remarkable pace, in what analysts see as an effort to showcase rising living standards, capture spending by an emerging middle class and project an image of prosperity beyond Pyongyang.

Yet the rapid expansion of state-backed dining facilities, complete with outdoor terraces, modern ventilation systems and seating for hundreds, stands in stark contrast to the country's persistent food insecurity and deep inequalities in access to meat.

According to North Korea's state-run Rodong Sinmun, a new specialized bulgogi restaurant was completed in Hyesan, a city near the Chinese border in the country's northern Ryanggang Province, on Monday. An opening ceremony was held the previous day.

The latest opening brings the reported number of new bulgogi restaurants to 13 since early September, extending a construction campaign that has reached nearly every major provincial center as well as Pyongyang.

According to separate reports by North Korean media, the spree began Sept. 7 in Kanggye, Jagang Province, followed by openings in Pyongsong and Sinuiju the next day, just ahead of the country's Sept. 9 founding anniversary. Similar establishments subsequently appeared in Hamhung, Chongjin, Wonsan, Sariwon, Haeju, Kaesong and Nampho.

Pyongyang's Moranbong Bulgogi Restaurant held its completion ceremony Oct. 8, while another establishment opened in Rason on Oct. 9, a day before the 81st anniversary of the founding of the ruling Workers' Party of Korea.

The restaurants are notably ambitious in scale. The Hamhung establishment spans approximately 2,970 square meters, while those in Sariwon and Pyongsong cover about 2,800 and 2,400 square meters, respectively.

Photos and videos released by North Korean state media show that many restaurants feature communal barbecue halls, private family dining rooms and outdoor grilling areas, with menus offering bulgogi alongside cold noodles and soft drinks. Some also boast illuminated exteriors, large electronic displays and scenic locations overlooking rivers, mountains or coastlines.

For a country long associated with chronic food shortages, the proliferation of such facilities marks a striking shift in the image the regime is seeking to project.

A new dining culture — and a political showcase

The trend has its roots in Pyongyang, where the government has increasingly promoted modern restaurants and entertainment facilities as symbols of what current leader Kim Jong-un calls a socialist civilized society.

In 2024, the Hwasong Taedonggang Beer House opened in the capital's newly developed Hwasong district, offering several varieties of locally produced Taedonggang beer. Another large beer hall, featuring dancing fountains and outdoor dining, opened near the Juche Tower in July.

The capital's barbecue scene also expanded in 2025 with the opening of the Hwasong Rakwon Bulgogi Restaurant. North Korean state-run outlet Naenara promoted it as offering more than 200 dishes, ranging from pork belly bulgogi and salmon belly sashimi to goose-liver specialties.

The latest wave of restaurant openings appears to be extending that model to provincial cities, an effort analysts say serves both economic and political objectives.

In a report published last week, Jeong Eun-mee, director of the Human Rights Research Division at the state-affiliated Korea Institute for National Unification in Seoul, described the new bulgogi restaurants as spaces designed not merely for dining but also for public display.

"By reproducing Pyongyang-style facilities in provincial capitals while incorporating local landmarks and scenery, the authorities appear to be cultivating a sense of pride among residents that their regions, too, can enjoy amenities comparable to those in the capital," she explained.

The establishments also fit into the regime's broader push to promote what it calls a "new life and new civilization," a vision highlighted at the ninth Workers' Party Congress. It emphasizes modern housing, consumer services and improved living environments as visible achievements of Kim's leadership.

Their political symbolism extends to customer selection.

According to Jung's analysis, the first diners invited to many of the newly opened restaurants have been war veterans, disabled military veterans, decorated citizens and exemplary workers — groups celebrated by the regime for their loyalty and contributions.

Such preferential treatment suggests the restaurants are also intended to reinforce political cohesion by rewarding citizens regarded as models of loyalty, the report said.

Catering to North Korea's emerging middle class

Beyond their propaganda value, the restaurants may reflect changing consumption patterns in North Korea, particularly among residents who have accumulated wealth through decades of informal market activity.

Jung argued that the emergence of large restaurants capable of seating hundreds of diners in provincial cities suggests the existence of a consumer class with disposable income to spend on meat-based meals.

She identified this group as part of North Korea's emerging middle class, which has developed alongside the country's gradual marketization.

The government may be seeking to channel this purchasing power into state-operated establishments, allowing it to generate revenue while strengthening its control over commercial activity traditionally associated with private markets.

The expansion could also be benefiting from North Korea's deepening economic ties with China and Russia.

Hong Min, a senior research fellow at the Korea Institute for National Unification, suggested that the gradual recovery of trade with China and an influx of financial resources from Russia linked to the war in Ukraine may have contributed to changing consumption patterns among North Korean residents.

The developments also point to a broader phenomenon researchers describe as "meatification" — a shift toward diets with greater quantities of meat and other animal products as incomes rise and consumption patterns evolve.

Similar transformations accompanied economic development in China and Vietnam, where expanding middle classes and urbanization helped drive the growth of restaurants, supermarkets and commercial meat consumption.

In North Korea, however, the process appears to be taking place under a far more state-directed model, with the government actively shaping where and how consumers spend their money.

Behind the barbecue boom, a persistent food divide

The emergence of modern barbecue restaurants does not necessarily mean that meat is becoming affordable for ordinary North Koreans.

A survey of North Korean defectors cited in Jung's report found stark disparities in meat consumption according to socioeconomic status.

Among respondents who identified as upper class while living in North Korea in 2019, 81.8 percent said they ate meat either daily or once or twice a week. The corresponding figure was 66.2 percent among middle-class respondents but just 6.7 percent among those identifying as lower class.

Some 30 percent of lower-class respondents said they consumed meat only once or twice a year.

The findings suggest that while meat consumption has increased among relatively affluent North Koreans, access remains highly unequal.

Supply constraints pose another challenge.

According to trade statistics cited in the report, North Korea imported approximately $38.97 million worth of edible meat in 2025, more than four times the $8.98 million recorded in 2019.

Imports had plunged during the COVID-19 pandemic but rebounded sharply after border restrictions were eased, rising from $8.46 million in 2023 to $24.38 million in 2024.

The figures suggest North Korea is increasingly relying on foreign supplies to meet growing demand for meat, even as the government promotes efforts to modernize domestic livestock production.

At the inauguration of the Samgwang Livestock Farm in North Pyongan Province in February, Kim acknowledged shortcomings in the country's livestock industry and called for improvements in breeding, animal feed, disease prevention and production management.

He also set out a goal of ensuring a steady supply of meat and dairy products to the population, including children and students.

Yet Jung questioned whether domestic livestock production could expand quickly enough to sustain the new restaurants, suggesting that many would likely depend substantially on imported meat.

The contrast is particularly striking given North Korea's long-standing socialist promise that all citizens should be able to enjoy white rice and meat soup, wear silk clothing and live in tile-roofed houses — an ideal promoted since the era of founding leader Kim Il-sung.

While the Kim Jong-un government has pursued housing construction, garment production and agricultural modernization as part of that vision, making meat a regular part of ordinary citizens' diets remains an elusive goal.

The United Nations estimates that more than 40 percent of North Korea's population remains undernourished, underscoring the gap between the country's showcase dining facilities and the nutritional challenges facing much of its population.

Jung warned that expanding commercial meat consumption without strengthening food distribution to vulnerable groups could deepen existing inequalities, particularly between urban and rural communities and between affluent and low-income households.

For the North Korean leadership, the new restaurants offer a visible symbol of modernization and an opportunity to portray prosperity as spreading beyond the capital.

Whether they represent a meaningful improvement in ordinary North Koreans' diets, however, remains a far more difficult question.