Sore Throat and Sniffles? No Problem! Try These Korean Cold Remedies

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZM-QLZciJzI

After a year of research and instruction on integrative modern and Korean medicine, two years of mealtime conversations with some very health-conscious Korean friends and acquaintances, and six years of ginseng jelly care packages, if I were asked to summarize my take on the Korean folk remedy approach to colds, my answer would probably be: “Don’t get one.”

No, I’m not confessing a lack of faith in Korean traditional medical perspectives on rhinitis (though that wouldn’t be quite so chauvinistic given that modern medicine is similarly deficient in this department) nor my own ignorance of the subject (which I nonetheless readily admit). Instead, I am attempting to emphasize that indigenous Korean medicine holds dear the traditional Chinese notion that “上医医未病之病, 中医医欲病之病,下医医已病之病,” or “top-rate doctors treat illness as it has yet to occur, middling doctors treat illness as it is about to occur, and low-quality doctors treat illness after it occurs.”

As I described in a previous post on the medical mystique of Korean bathhouses, the various Korean traditional medical theories that have been syncretized from domestic and Chinese sources and passed down through several works of national literature (including the Yibang Yuchui 의방유취/醫方類聚  [1443-1445], one of the most comprehensive syntheses of otherwise unrecorded Chinese medical theory to date; Dongyui Bogam, 동의보감/東醫寶鑑 [1596-1610], a collection of disease symptoms arranged by affected organ system, and 동의수세보원/東醫壽世保元 [1901], the underpinning of Korea’s own four constitution medical theory, which develops a more systematic approach to patient-centered treatment than most lines of TCM) describe the human anatomy as multi-layered fields of energy—not only the well known qi or ki (기/氣) but also essence jeong (정/精), spirit shin (신/紳), and blood (혈/血)—in constant flux among various organs and the external environment. And while not even the most hard-line of Korean medical traditionalists would argue that a cold is induced by energy field imbalance in the absence of a little something called germs, Korean medical tradition does seem to contain some lines of thought that one’s daily habits have a large hand in whether external insults like rhinovirus—which fall within the traditional concept of bad qi (사기/邪氣)—will be handled properly by the body’s natural defenses—also called proper qi (정기/正氣)—or allowed to bloom into nasal waterfalls and scorching throats. For example, it is thought that weakened defenses might be precipitated by a sudden drop in temperature, either due to change to a colder season or even rapid jump in indoor air conditioning use from spring to summer; the chronic stress of an academic lifestyle; or being a small child whose immune system is yet to be fully developed [1].

Okay, right. So in an ideal world the Korean traditional medical establishment (and the continuously changing streams of loosely related folk remedies that serve as both source and outlet) successfully collaborates with 100% compliant patients to develop personalized strategies for halting all manner of infectious disease in its tracks faster than you can say “H1N1.” But no amount of pontification over a meridian map will console the poor sniveling sap who doesn’t finish her dinnertime kimchi and insists on galloping around polar vortex Gangnam in a miniskirt. What, then, to those less-than-vigilant patients for whom a conscious diet, frequent spa visits, daily morning qigong, and a commitment to a stable inner life is already too late?

• Stewed pear (배찜): A favorite dish in both northern China and Korea for cold prevention as summer turns to autumn, this simple stew is made by boiling a clean Nashi pear (also known as “Asian pear” or just “pear,” depending on who you ask) with some honey and red dates until the solid ingredients are soft and the water reduces into a thick nectar. The honey provides some relief for a sore throat, and the pear, considered in traditional medicine to be of slightly wet constitution, is thought to supplement fluids lost to illness.


• Honey water (꿀물): A remedy similar to one with which many non-Koreans may also be familiar if they’ve ever coated a painful throat with a spoonful of honey. This is also a nice snack found in the hot beverage counter at many convenience stores.


• Spicy bean sprout soup (매운 콩나물국): Perhaps not the first choice of those suffering from a sensitive larynx, the red pepper powder in this soup is nonetheless great for providing temporary relief from congested sinuses.


• Ginger tea (생강차): This sweet and slightly spicy tea is a much more appealing way than straight water to maintain much-needed fluid intake to loosen annoying mucus deposits, and the ginger provides a nice kick to the nasal passages.


• Toxin release by sweating: Dip your feet into some warm water, take a long shower, engage in light exercise, and support your immune system by stimulating circulation and sweating out the poison. Just don’t be rude and take your viruses to a public jjimjilbang.


• Appetite stimulation: In some cases, a cold is accompanied by a loss of appetite, under which condition it is thought that replenishing the body’s heat with foods of “warm” constitution—ginseng (인삼/人蔘), huanggi (황기/黃芪), and changchul (창출/창출) root—will enhance digestive function. [1]

Armed with a taste of some folk Korean medical knowledge, dear readers, you are now equipped to tackle the final frigid days of winter, endless examinations of spring semester, and sudden onslaught of summer air conditioning with some time-tested weapons of battle with rhinitis. Feel free to add to the armamentarium by posting your own personal remedies in the comments below!