Founders of the brewery, Lim Suk-ju and his wife Susanna Kim (Source: Chosun)

In a modest fermentation room in Sunchang, a mountainous county famous for its Korean chili paste (gochujang), earthenware jars sat bundled in thick quilts, as if tucked in for a long rest. These clay vessels, swaddled to maintain a steady warmth, contained a secret that would embody both a bygone tradition of home brewing and new wave of Korean craft brewing.

It was from this unassuming setup that emerges Jiran Jigyo, a traditional Korean sool producer which has stunned competitions, delighted Korean connoisseurs and even found its way to a presidential banquet.

(Source: Domin)

Jiran Jigyo’s 66-year-old founder Lim Suk-ju (임숙주), did not initially set out to become a brewer. For three decades he lived the life of a public official in Gyeonggi Province. But in 2013, Lim took an early pension, packed up with his wife Kim Susanna (김수산나), and returned to his hometown of Sunchang to start a fig orchard. At first, the plan was simply to grow fruit and enjoy a tranquil rural life. His wife would admit in a Korean-language interview that she had opposed the whole moving-to-the-countryside idea but couldn’t let him go alone. Sunchang, after all, was known for red pepper paste and rural farms, not exactly a hotbed of trendy entrepreneurship.

It didn’t take long, however, for nostalgia and serendipity to alter Lim’s course. In between tending fig trees in the countryside, Lim somehow found himself recalling the taste of his mother’s homemade brew, a rustic family makgeolli (막걸리, the classic milky rice wine) that she would ferment each Lunar New Year. While his mother had long passed away, one bit of folk wisdom lingered in his mind: “When brewing, keep the ferment in a cold place for a long time”. It bears noting that homebrewing has been a centuries-old Korean tradition with knowledge typically transmitted from mother to daughter – that pearl of wisdom would be the only brewing guidance imparted by Lim’s mother to him.

With just that treasured memory as guidance and an itch for a creative project, Lim began to experiment in his kitchen. He followed a traditional Sunchang recipe and began cooking rice porridge, mixed in nuruk and water. Then he recalled his mother’s advice – he left early batches to mature in the cool corners of his home (cold place, check!) and then waited, not just for a few days or weeks but for almost three months before tasting (a long time, check!). The result was a revelation – trying the brew for the first time after 90 days, the flavour was just astonishing. The once-starchy concoction had blossomed into something complex and smooth. Lim and his wife drank it themselves at first, marvelling at how the extended aging deepened the taste. “Good liquor is even better when shared,” Lim thought, so he began bottling a few extra and handing them out to neighbours and friends

Those friends, as it turned out, had discerning palates. They exclaimed at its quality and urged the couple to submit this homemade brew to a competition. Lim was flattered but hesitant; after all, he was brewing purely as a gayangju (가양주, traditional homebrew) hobby, in his kitchen and even on the ondol-heated floor of the bedroom, hardly a professional setup. Nevertheless, decided at the very last minute to scrape together enough of this cloudy rice wine to meet the entry requirements.

To everyone’s surprise, Lim’s unheralded brew took Grand Prize at the 2016 Korea Fine Liquor Awards. In the span of a year, Lim had gone from novice homebrewer to an award-winning makgeolli maker, sending a small shockwave through Korea’s traditional liquor scene. Judges praised the brew’s exquisite balance, and it bested creations from far more established breweries. The win turned this quietly hobby into a new calling for the retired civil servant.

A Friendship of Fragrant Herbs and Orchids

Not everyone initially received Lim’s victory a pleasant surprise. Large breweries were particularly sceptical that such an accomplished sool could emerge from a town little-known for its brews. Word of the upset spread to the Korean Traditional Liquor Research Institute. Very swiftly, a contingent of experts from the institute travelled down to Sunchang to meet the man and inspect his brewing process, just to be sure he really did it himself.

(Source: Chosun)

What they found was not fancy machinery, but Lim and his wife working side by side in endearing harmony as a middle-aged couple, lovingly stirring and tending their ferments. This moving scene touched the visiting experts. One of them remarked that their relationship could be described as the classical idiom “Jiran Jigyo” (芝蘭之交 / 지란지교) – roughly translated as “a partnership of orchids and fragrant herbs”. Now, the phrase “Jiran Jigyo” dates back to an early Confucian text that describes an admirable bond between two kindred spirits. The remark gave the other experts an idea: why not name your brewery after this beautiful idiom?

Lim and his wife gladly embraced the unexpected branding makeover. From then on, they became known as Jiran Jigyo, forever linking the idea of cherished friendship to the bottles that would leave their door.

A sool fit for the President

Renaming his rice wine was one thing. Turning it into a commercially viable endeavour was another. After the 2016 win, Lim needed a goal to inspire himself. He thought, just as Sunchang’s gochujang (고추장, chili paste) was once presented to kings, he wanted his Sunchang-made rice wine to be served to the President of the country. If his hometown’s artisan rice wine could reach the nation’s highest table, this would resurrect some of the bygone honour for Sunchang.

Lim quickly learnt that the Blue House (South Korea’s equivalent of the White House), of course, wouldn’t pour just any homebrew. Learning that only fully licensed commercial breweries could supply official state banquets, Lim moved quickly to professionalise.

He established “Friends’ Liquor LLC”, the small company under which Jiran Jigyo is produced – and obtained an official brewing license by 2019. With the paperwork in hand, he finally had a legal brewery to his name, albeit still a tiny one attached to his house. In December the same year, Jiran Jigyo achieved Lim’s audacious dream: it was served during a Blue House reception honouring the state visit of Vietnam’s president.

Though a closed-door affair with no media fanfare, the knowledge that his hometown brew had been “presented” in Seoul’s halls of power was enough thrill for Lim. With the twin laurels of a national sool award and a presidential showcase achieved, he could have been content to rest on his success. Instead, the former civil servant-turned-brewer found himself more committed than ever to refining his craft.

Local Ingredients and (Really, Really) Slow Brewing

From the outset, Lim shunned the path of rapid industrial scaling. He repeatly emphasised that profit took a backseat to purpose: he saw Jiran Jigyo as a way to revive and preserve the Sunchang’s traditional brewing culture, not simply a means to commercial success.

In practical terms, this means Jiran Jigyo’s production is limited, its price relatively high, and each batch is given extraordinary care. Jiran Jigyo’s signature takju and yakju (which we will review shortly) are priced several times higher than mass-market makgeolli because Lim was unwilling to compromise on the formula or source cheaper inputs.

Crushed nuruk (Source: Hankyung)

He uses only locally grown rice both mepssal (멥쌀, non-glutinous rice) for the starter and chapssal (찹쌀, glutinous sweet rice) for the main fermentation – and insists on the traditional wheat nuruk of Sunchang, famed for its rich microbial diversity. Even the water is special: the brewery draws natural mineral water from 800 meters underground, tapping a pristine aquifer beneath Sunchang’s soil.

(Source: Chosun)

Jiran Jigyo’s brewing process is even slower now than it was in Lim’s homebrew days. Lim deliberately models his current technique on the lore of “Sunchang Baekilju”, his town’s ancient local style that famously takes a long time to brew.

After a two-stage fermentation where a small batch of porridge and nuruk ferments first as a starter, a larger addition of cooked glutinous rice (the main mash) is added – the initial active fermentation lasts about 7–10 days and yields young rice wine of about 12–13% – fairly respectable as a standard makgeolli.

Lim doesn’t consider this ready to bottle. He openly explained his process to reporters: When fermentation is done it just means the sugars have turned to alcohol. The flavour and aroma, though, are determined by a long period of cellaring at low temperature.

So instead of bottling the young makgeolli (as commercial makers do, often diluting and shipping it out within a week or two of brewing), Jiran Jigyo’s batch is carefully racked into aging vessels and placed in a temperature-controlled room for a full 90 more days. This is the first hundred days, and the namesake of the 100-days method of the historic Sunchang Baekilju.

However, Lim does not consider the brew anywhere near finished at that point. Instead, he would move the brews to another aging room at near-freezing temperatures for an additional 80–100 days of cold-conditioning.

Taken together, every batch of Jiran Jigyo’s brews take roughly 200 days from brewing to bottling! Patience is as much an ingredient here as rice or water.

The meticulousness of sourcing and the long production cycle inevitably make Jiran Jigyo more expensive to produce than factory-made rivals, but it’s a price the couple are willing to pay.

Jiran Jigyo Brewery today (Source: Chosun)

Thanks to the lengthy maturation, Jiran Jigyo’s flagship takju drinks with an astonishingly smooth and layered experience, with the natural sweetness of rice and a bright tartness thanks to the nuruk’s lactic fermentation – always balanced just right. It also has none of the harsh burn or raw rice scent that young makgeolli can have.

A New Wave in Korean Sool, Rooted in the Old

Behind this refined craft sool is not only tradition revived, but also careful record-keeping. Back when Lim first set out to revive the historic 100-day Sunchang Baekilju, he unfortunately found very little written guide and documentation, as most of the knowledge had been passed down the generations orally. This made him determined to keep comprehensive notes, from testing and fine-tuning variables like temperature, rice type, and yeast behaviour, to daily entries about the weather, humidity and even his own mood while brewing.

Lim meticulously journals and records his brewing experiences.

The 66-year-old had explained that he did not want to be remembered as an old master guarding secrets, but someone who shares cultural knowledge with as many people as possible. Jiran Jigyo is not just as a product to Lim, but a cultural legacy in the remaking.

Lim's venture might have started in isolation, but it coincided with a broader renaissance in South Korean craft brewing. Over the past decade, the country has seen a new wave of sool artisans – from ex-bankers to rural returnees – who, like the Jiran Jigyo founders, are resurrecting ancient recipes and inventing new styles of makgeolli, cheongju, and soju on a small scale.

While Jiran Jigyo is situated in Jeolla, far away from the trendsetting bars of Seoul, it has nevertheless became a darling among traditional liquor enthusiasts and sommeliers. To the craft makgeolli community, Jiran Jigyo represents the pinnacle of “slow brewing” – the exemplar of what patience and dedication could yield.

On the home front, Jiran Jigyo has also brought renewed pride to Sunchang. Long known for its spicy gochujang sauce, this quiet county can now also boast a nationally lauded craft makgeolli.

It’s fitting that the Han characters for Jiran Jigyo (芝蘭之交) evoke orchids and herbs blooming together (in fact, Qing Dynasty jade carvings are often inspired by these floral patterns) – a symbol for how something beautiful can thrive when the partnership is right and dedication is true.

Now let's taste the two classics from Jiran Jigyo's repertoire - the Takju and Yakju!

Craft Sool Review: Jiran Jigyo Premium Takju, 13% ABV

Tasting Notes

Appearance: Off white and milky with fine rice lees in suspension.

Nose: Dense and rounded. Opening with a rich, creamy and distinctly milky impression that sets the tone, then a bright acidity of soursop juice, a yoghurt-like lactic tang reminiscent of wild-fermented Belgian sour ales. There is a creamy fermented edge that broadens into some savoury depths of miso and dou gan (dried tofu). The brightness cuts through the creaminess gently, and the aromas are very lifted. As the nose opens, we get softer sweetness and fat emerging, with coconut cream, vanilla, bananas cleanly balancing out the lactic elements. Underpinning everything is a persistent rice porridge aroma that anchors the funk and creaminess, joined by a faint note of sea coconut.

Palate: Incredibly flavourful and full. Opens with a bright and creamy acidity of fresh yoghurt and soursop juice, really vivid but not aggressive at all. There’s a with a silky, hazy texture that coats the mouth and enhances the notes. The tang is softened by sweet milkiness of original Calpis. As the flavours broaden, we have a cereal-like creaminess of rice porridge and grits grounded by this rustic wild-yeast lactic character. Some light savoury soy bean/miso-adjacent undertone runs alongside sweetness. By mid-palate, we warm applesauce, vanilla and coconut cream returning while a core of brown rice syrup provides depth and roundedness. Throughout, the acidity feels ever-present but always controlled, acting as a structural spine that refreshes the palate and enhancing the sweetness and savouriness. It’s quite perfect.

Finish: Relatively brief and clean, tapering off with smooth chalkiness. Soft cedar wood and lingering vanilla, subtle sweetness of brown sugar, toasted coconut flakes and a light citrus zest flickers through in finality.

Thoughts

My oh my. This is easily the most flavourful, layered and balanced original unflavoured takju we have tasted. Concentration of flavour is immediately striking, yet everything is exactly where it should be. Each element arrives with clarity and integration – from the lactic tang and cereal richness to the softer fruit and creamy notes, all working together.

The acidity is exact, the creaminess measured, and the savoury undertones carefully integrated, creating a profile that is both generous and still very disciplined. It’s got the complexity of wild yeast acidity and the acidity never feels chaotic.

This level of flavour, complexity and balance is genuinely quite rare across the drink categories I have to say. It becomes very clear what extra cellaring time contributes here with so much depth added. An incredibly convincing demonstration of what 200 days of maturation can achieve.

Craft Sool Review: Jiran Jigyo Premium Yakju, 15% ABV

Tasting Notes

Appearance: Clear, pale gold.

Nose: Sharper and quite funky. Opens with a firm lactic acidity, a rustic, farmyard edge of Belgian Flanders red ale now, with a faint spice of chilli heat. The fermented character stays clean, leaning more towards fresh cultured dairy. There is a brighter fruit presence, giving crisp green apples and pear cider. Overall, the nose feels energetic and focused, with clarity replacing the roundness seen in the takju.

Palate: Opens with energy and drive. It’s also really generous and flavourful while remaining clean in texture. Enters with a taut, linear acidity giving a sense of tension rather than softness. Citrus juice and a sweet, yoghurt-like lactic tang keeps the profile lively while the wine spreads across the palate, a rich ricey creaminess with cooked grain mash. Depth builds with some warmer, savoury-sweet notes of caramelised roasted chestnuts, bruised apples then subtle baking spices and grainy undertones fill out the mid-palate.

Finish: Very clean and precise, tapering off with restrain. Some appley sweetness lingers but in a drier form, and the texture feels closer to rice water than anything creamy. A pale cedar wood with some crisp minerality at the back of the palate. A faint citrus zest appears right at the end.

Thoughts

This yakju is equally striking, but it expresses itself with more power and edge. Compared to the takju, this has more energy and structure, with flavours layered tightly rather than expansively.

It feels sharper, zestier, and more overtly acidic, with the lactic character more clearly articulated due to the absence of creamy rice sediment. This seems to bring out a bit more tart fruits, subtle herbal nuances, and a more mineral, structured profile. The balance here is just as deliberate, but it is achieved through tension and clarity rather than richness.

What stands out most is how polished the acidity feels, resolved and purposeful rather than raw, which still speaks clearly to the benefits of extended maturation. It such a compelling, focused expression that would feel especially tuned to connoisseurs.

@CharsiuCharlie