The Brief

These days, Korean all-you-can-eat barbecue is often equivalent to a night in Koreatown to wow out-of-towners. However, it wasn’t alway the mainstream gustatory experience at the top of every visitor’s bucket list. In fact, its history suggests that its L.A. origins may not have even started in Koreatown.

Situated in Melrose Hill, Choeng Wun Buffet is one of the O.G. Korean BBQ restaurants. Humbly tucked away in a corner of the strip mall of the original Dave’s Hot Chicken fame, the restaurant is easy to miss until you get out of your car.

The exterior of Choeng Wun Buffet

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But it has a unique place in L.A’s Korean culture. Choeng Wun Buffet is not only one of the oldest Korean restaurants in the city (second to the 1982-founded Kang Nam Restaurant), but also the proto-AYCE (all-you-can-eat) Korean
barbecue joint.

As the name suggests, when Choeng Wun Buffet opened in 1985, it was a buffet-style cafeteria. While that would transform later into the AYCE concept, at that point — it was just a convenient way to eat.

Instead of today's theater of a large plate surrounded by dozens of small dishes of crunchy, savory, and garlicky banchan, there were simply steaming trays of Korean-style vegetables, the same as those served at home, which you piled on your plate as many times as you’d like.

Owner Chang Hun Kang

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Over the decades, those beginnings had been somewhat forgotten. But now as third and fourth generation Korean Americans look to honor their roots, there’s been a resurgence of interest in generational Korean businesses like Choeng Wun Buffet.

Korean diaspora

It's something owner Kang Chang Hun and his nephew Alex Park are leaning into; they want the restaurant’s “day one” beginnings to be remembered as part of L.A. history, and to bring in diners seeking a nostalgic Korean L.A. experience.

Because it’s in Melrose Hill, rather Koreatown, it can sometimes be left out of the Koreatown story, like that depicted in Emmanuel Hahn’s Koreatown Dreaming.

But Park says it's a myopic disservice to the Korean businesses that surrounded the neighborhood, from the restaurant itself to the stalls that occupied East Hollywood’s Union Swapmeet.

“There are plenty of Korean businesses outside of Koreatown that also reflect the diversity of the socio-economic status and geography of the Korean diaspora throughout L.A. County,” he said.

Abundant offerings

For Korean Americans like myself, walking into Choeng Wun Buffet feels like going into a time warp. At the center of the welcoming, homey restaurant stands a retro, green-tiled salad bar a la Sizzler’s, with seasoned vegetables and greens such as acorn jelly, chive salad, soybean sprouts, and sweet and sour radish.

Against one wall lies a row of three soup stations, consisting of homemade seaweed soup, pumpkin porridge, and red bean porridge, and two industrial rice cookers that hold white rice and chapsal (sticky brown sweet rice).

Across from this wall is an arrangement of seasoned protein, from chicken and squid to various cuts of beef and pork, ready to serve cafeteria-style. Highlights include pumpkin porridge with pillowy bites of glutinous rice balls, the brightly adorned japchae (stir-fried glass noodles), frosty bowls of naengmyeon (cold noodles in chilled broth), and crispy honey sesame wings.

Short rib served at Choeng Wun Buffet

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One might consider the restaurant’s giant rice cookers and cafeteria lines antiquated, but it conjures profound memories for Korean families coming out of church services and gathering in communal spaces over bowls of porridge, kimbap, and banchan. It is difficult now to find similar experiences in Korean restaurants, but Kang lets his yearnings for such spaces guide his business decisions.

Owner Chang Hun Kang stands in front of the meat buffet

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“I’m 62 years old now, but I started working here at 30 years old,” he said. “I really don’t have ambitions of turning a big profit. I’m sure having a lot of money is nice, but all I want is to keep this restaurant in its good condition.”

Growth of all-you-can-eat

Choeng Wun Buffet was ahead of its time. By the 2000’s the buffet-style cafeteria had been rebranded as AYCE, and Korean barbecue reached a new level of popularity in California. The hallyu (Korean wave) of South Korean imports — predominantly music, movies, and beauty products — also included Korean cuisine, which ushered in a mainstream version of barbecue that focuses on copious amounts of pork and beef cuts marinated in a drippy assortment of soy sauce and toasted sesame oil.

All you can eat means exactly that

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With that came a wave of American chains like Gen BBQ, which opened in 2011 and popularized the AYCE denomination even further. Over time, hospitality groups and savvy small businesses alike have squeezed more money out of the extravagant nature of the AYCE experience with dining time limits and incremental charges on extra portions.

Meanwhile, Choeng Wun Buffet skirts the Westernized interpretation of Korean barbecue. When Kang says “all you can eat,” he urges diners to grab platefuls of meat as many times as they’d like — no limits enforced.

Younger crowds

Still, the family has to make rent. In 2016, Alex Park jumped on board to help his uncle with the restaurant, which was competing for new diners amidst the bubbling AYCE scene. Through Instagram ads and a new website that memorialized the restaurant’s beginnings and value, Kang began noticing new faces from the Melrose Hill neighborhood in addition to college students.

He felt called to play father to some of the younger crowds who came in to experience KBBQ for the first time. He recalls one instance when he sat at the table with them, showing them how to tightly wrap a cut of meat in a giant leaf of red lettuce with a dollop of gochuchang, chive salad, kimchi, and rice, then eating it in one bite.

Choeng Wun Buffet offers the best value for large parties through its tactile punch cards, where the staff punches a hole for every person in your party. A party of 10 gets one free meal. In addition, Kang has carefully thought through pricing tiers, with late night discounts and all-you-can-eat options ranging between $25 and $45, depending on whether bulgogi suffices or if diners want the luxury of unlimited L.A. galbi and shrimp.

Pickled onion and cilantro banchan

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How it started

Without knowing a single person or having any family member in the United States, Kang followed the love of his life, Yoona, and her family, to Los Angeles when they made the sudden decision to emigrate from Seoul, Korea, in 1986.

As his wife and mother-in-law began to make names for themselves with their volunteer service in the church, they decided to buy Choeng Wun Buffet in 1991. (The original owners were selling it, and while it was outside Koreatown, they decided to go ahead). Aside from a few modifications and homemade kimchi by Kang, the restaurant continues to use the same recipes created by Yoona’s family.

Choeng Wun Buffet’s historic sign outside of the restaurant

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“To this day, when I’m here, I can feel my wife everywhere,” he said. “I can’t leave this restaurant.”

Yoona’s family also played a central role in the Korean community by establishing eateries like the ever-comforting Mapo Kkak Doo Gee and Kangbyun, the latter of which shuttered after the 1992 riots.

In comparison, Choeng Wun Buffet continued to run as a low-key buffet-style cafeteria, a place for Korean families to head to after church.

After Yoona passed away in 2019, the family organized a large service for their familial glue at Han Kook Mortuary. It became an emotionally stirring yet affirming testament to her quiet yet unwavering presence in shaping Korean culture in Los Angeles.

“People were crowded outside the mortuary thinking it was a famous politician’s funeral,” Park said. “She just knew a lot of people in the Korean community because our family has been here for a while. We had family, friends, and regular customers show up, and that speaks to the person she was.”

The exterior of Choeng Wun Buffet

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To help his uncle with retirement, Park said he would consider taking over Choeng Wun Buffet, especially if it would mean he can collect stories about Korean Angelenos on the periphery of Koreatown.

“I know the family stance is that we would want to keep it in the family for my aunt,” Park said. “This is the only thing we have left of her at this point.”

Meanwhile, the family has local legends and archivists to lean on to show their appreciation online, as if to say, “If you know, you know.”

“I remember this article on LAist about Pijja Palace,and it mentioned there were L.A. staples very unique to their culture, and Choeng Wun was mentioned on the same list,” Park said. “So there are [OGs] who recognize that if you want really grounded homemade Korean food, this is the spot.”

A federal appeals court has upheld a court order requiring the Department of Veterans Affairs to build more than 2,500 housing units on its West Los Angeles campus.

The U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals on Tuesday ordered the VA to construct 750 temporary units for veterans within 18 months and 1,800 permanent housing units within six years.

The ruling found the agency had “strayed from its mission” by leasing land to commercial interests like a UCLA baseball field and Brentwood School sports complex, instead of caring for veterans.

“There are now scores of unhoused veterans trying to survive in and around the greater Los Angeles area despite the acres of land deeded to the VA for their care,” Judge Ana de Alba wrote in the opinion.

Attorneys for the plaintiffs in the Powers v. McDonough case say the ruling could end veteran homelessness in the Los Angeles region, which is home to more than 3,000 unhoused veterans, according to official estimates.

"It's the most important ruling in the history of this country concerning the rights of veterans," said Mark Rosenbaum, lead attorney with Public Counsel, during a press conference Wednesday. “After this case, there should be no such thing as a homeless veteran.”

The VA did not immediately respond to LAist’s request for comment on the ruling.

‘Long overdue’

The appeals court affirmed most of U.S. District Judge David O. Carter's 2024 ruling, which found the VA discriminated against disabled veterans by failing to provide adequate housing on the 388-acre property deeded as a soldiers' home back in 1888.

The main plaintiff named in the class-action lawsuit, Jeffrey Powers, lived in a tent outside the gates of the VA Medical Center.

At a press conference Wednesday, Powers told reporters this week’s appeals court ruling delivers “about 80%” of what he wanted.

“We got the most important thing, which was to get veterans off the street,” Powers said. “And for that, I'm happy with the outcome.”

The case stems from a 2015 settlement in which the VA promised to build 1,200 housing units, with more than 770 completed by 2022. The department missed that deadline, prompting the new lawsuit.

Iraq War veteran Rob Reynolds came to the West L.A. VA for PTSD treatment in 2018, met veterans sleeping on the streets outside and began advocating for them.

During Wednesday’s press event, he called this week’s Ninth Circuit ruling “long overdue.”

"There should never have been a lawsuit filed in the first place,” Reynolds said. “ They were using the property for everything but what it was intended for, and that's housing.”

The veteran plaintiffs argued that lack of on-campus housing prevented disabled veterans from accessing physical and mental health services at the facility.

As of late 2024, the VA said there were 307 veteran housing units open on the West L.A. campus and 461 units under construction.

Robert Reynolds (right), a veteran advocate with AMVETS, walks with Los Angeles County Sheriff Alex Villanueva as they tour the Veterans Row encampment along San Vicente Boulevard in November 2021.

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Commercial leases

The appeals court ruling invalidated most commercial leases on the property, including Brentwood School's 22-acre sports complex and an oil company's drilling license.

However, the court overturned the district court's previous invalidation of UCLA's lease for its baseball stadium. Rosenbaum said he plans to refile that portion of the case, which had been argued on different grounds.

Reynolds criticized local leaders for what he said was inaction at the West L.A. VA Campus. He said local officials’ personal connections to Brentwood School and UCLA played a role.

“ A lot of these special interest groups on the VA land have so much influence politically in Los Angeles,” he said. "That's why you've had a lot of our politicians remain quiet about this."

In May, President Donald Trump signed an executive order instructing the VA secretary to declare the West L.A. VA campus a national hub for homeless veterans and develop a plan to house 6,000 people there by 2028.

That housing goal is even more ambitious than the court order, but local advocates say they haven’t heard anything from the Trump administration since it was issued.

“They need to speak to the people that actually live on that property,” Reynolds said. “I'm hoping now that we have this Ninth Circuit ruling in, that we'll be able to have some more discussion with the administration and with the VA leadership to try to figure out what the next steps are.”

As a result of this week’s ruling, the case has been sent back to the District Court judge to implement the housing order and oversee construction

On a chilly December night in Sandy Spring, Md., dozens of people crammed into the Woodlawn Manor for a Victorian-era Yuletide dance lesson, the wood floors creaking under the uncertain steps of 21st-century people learning 19th-century English country dances.

"Every good party has dancing," said Angela Yau, a historical interpreter for the parks department who was teaching the dances — and the Victorians loved a good Yuletide shindig.

Angela Yau, a site manager for the Montgomery County parks department who also works in cultural and natural history interpretation, wears an 1840s-style dress while teaching Victorian dances to the room.

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The merriment was emblematic of how many think of Yule; today, it's synonymous with Christmas. But centuries ago, before crooners sang about carols being sung by a fire, Yule meant something different: a pagan mid-winter festival around the solstice, dating back to pre-Christian Germanic people.

It was particularly important to Scandinavian communities during that time of year, beset by late sunrises and early sunsets, according to Maren Johnson, a professor of Nordic studies at Luther College.

"All these kinds of winter traditions are tied very intricately into small communities," she said. "You develop between yourselves a folklore about this winter time and this period of darkness."

In this week's installment of "Word of the Week," we travel back in time to the origins of Yule festivals, and trace those earliest traditions to modern-day Christmas celebrations.

Feasting, drinking and animal sacrifices

Scholars of these early pagan festivals don't have much concrete evidence of what actually went on at them, according to Old Norse translator Jackson Crawford, because much of the written record comes much later from Christians. But what is clear, he said, was that feasting and drinking were abundant.

Terry Gunnell, a professor of folkloristics at the University of Iceland, agrees. Drinking copious amounts of ale was not only encouraged but required, he said, and animals were slaughtered as part of the sacrifices to gods and spirits typical of these early festivals.

"The snow is coming down the mountains and in a sense, the nature spirits are moving closer," he said — and people wanted to appease them.

And then, there was the oath-swearing. Crawford said this was one of the major hallmarks of early Yule celebrations as recorded in myths like The Saga of Hervör and Heidrek from the 13th century. In it, a man swears to the king of Sweden that he'll marry his daughter with no real prospects of doing so.

"But your oaths during Yule are kind of sacred, extra binding," he said. "So he has to try to fulfill it," even though he eventually gets killed.

Crawford thinks that this oath-swearing could be where the word "Yule" actually comes from. The earliest roots could come from Indo-European words for "speaking," he said, and then Germanic peoples came to use it for more judicial purposes like admitting, confessing or swearing.

There's other theories out there, though, the dominant one being that the word could come from the Old Norse word hjól, meaning "wheel" — as in the "wheel of the year" that keeps turning with the seasons, Gunnell said.

Yule gets co-opted into Christmas

Christianization of this part of Europe, however, changed how people celebrated Yule. The church began to align its own holidays with pagan celebrations, Gunnell said. Easter replaced the festival at the beginning of summer, for example, and St. John's Day replaced midsummer. "And then we hear in Icelandic source material that [Yule] was replaced with Christmas," he said.

"So what the church is really doing is to allow people to go on doing what they had done before, but now under a Christian name," he added.

Around the 900s, Crawford said, Scandinavians started saying "Yule" and "Christmas" interchangeably.

"I think it suggests that, fundamentally, both of them are basically parties," he said.

That's not to say that Christmas was the exact same as the Yule celebrations of old. There was a new emphasis, Gunnell said, not so much on winter spirits but "a period of joy with the birth of Christ." But much of the feasting and drinking spirit of Yule stuck around — and became Christmas traditions throughout much of Europe.

Fast forward to the Victorian era, where the spirit of merriment became embedded in English culture, thanks to two important cultural influencers: Prince Albert, who imported traditional Yuletide customs popular in his native Germany, and Queen Victoria.

The queen fell in love with the traditions, Yau of the parks department said. And since she was a fashion icon, "These Christmas traditions really spread from the royal couple out through England and out through the colonies and everywhere else." And, as cultural customs are wont to do, the traditions morphed — creating, among other things, Santa Claus.

Still making sacrifices — just sweeter

Although slaughtering animals to please winter spirits is perhaps less typical of modern Yuletide celebrations, the spirit of sacrifice still remains, according to Gunnell.

That's particularly true in Scandinavian Christmas folklore. People leave out porridge for nisse and tomte, small trickster spirits who live in local forests, around the winter solstice in hopes of placating them or receiving gifts. (Though these days, Johnson said, many Scandinavians also celebrate the Julenisse, more of a Santa Claus figure.)

In Iceland, there's not really a Santa Claus figure at all, Gunnell said. Instead, there's the "Christmas Men," also known as the Yule lads. As the stories have told it, the mystic men – with names like "Window Peeper," "Sausage Swiper," "Bowl Licker" and "Meat Hook" — come one by one down from the mountains by your community, play pranks and steal things from homes. (To be fair to them, they'll also leave presents in windows for children.) On top of that, they have an ogress mother, Grýla, who eats misbehaving children "like sushi for Christmas," Gunnell said.

And although he doesn't swipe sausages or eat children, Santa Claus is not a completely dissimilar figure.

"The idea of sacrifices remains in leaving out a little bit of sherry or whiskey for Santa Claus and some food for the reindeer," Gunnell said.

It's something to consider the next time you leave out cookies and milk.
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Carmen Peterson's son Ethan is a big fan of Elmo and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. And although Ethan is nonverbal, he loves to sing along in his own way.

"He's a really fun-loving 8-year-old. He doesn't speak, but he gets his point across," Peterson says.

Ethan has a rare genetic disorder — Syngap1 — which, among other things, causes a kind of seizure that can make him drop to the ground without warning.

"Everything just kind of shorts out for a moment," Peterson says. "And the danger of that — and I've seen this — is him falling on hardwood floors, concrete, off of stairs, like all of these things."

She says he's gotten hurt and she's had to rush him to the emergency room.

Ethan takes a medicine called Epidiolex that prevents these seizures. But last holiday season, a thief stole it off the family's front porch in Charlotte, N.C.

Peterson remembers finding the empty box and then checking her Ring doorbell camera footage. "I see this guy walking off … and I am just livid," she says.

Then, she had to figure out how to get this medicine — worth $1,800 — replaced so her son didn't miss a dose. It turned out to be a challenge.

How many stolen packages?

December is a busy time for package deliveries and for porch pirates who steal them. Sometimes the thieves run off with mail-order medication instead of getting an iPad or a Labubu.

E-commerce took off during the pandemic, and December remains the busiest time of the year for package deliveries, according to the U.S. Postal Service.

Still, it can be tricky to get the whole picture when it comes to package theft.

As easy as it is to buy stuff online, getting it to customers is actually really complicated. That's because so many people and companies interact with a package before it's delivered, according to Ben Stickle, a professor of criminal justice administration at Middle Tennessee University.

"So it's really hard to get, you know, what happens from the point that you click a button to when it gets delivered, all put back together with enough detail to find out when and where these thefts are occurring and then actually do something about it," he says.

Stickle worked on a study with the Postal Service published earlier this year, and says that victims of theft wind up reporting it to different places that don't share information with each other or even necessarily record the missing package as "theft." And sometimes victims don't report it at all.

"There's a lot of packages stolen," he says, explaining that according to security research company SafeWise, it's about 250,000 packages every day. Stickle has worked with SafeWise.

The Postal Service report estimated that at least 58 million packages were stolen in 2024. "So what are the odds that one of those, unbeknownst to the thief, has some type of medication in it?" Nobody really knows for sure, he says.

Ways to lower theft risk

So what can you do? Stickle says scheduling deliveries for when you're home and having a delivery spot that's hidden are good ideas. Even a locker for your porch that doesn't lock is a good deterrent.

"If a thief can see that there's a package, even if it's an envelope on your porch from the roadway, it seems to be far more likely that it's going to be stolen," he says.

According to Express Scripts and Optum Rx, which are two companies that offer mail-order pharmacy services, medication theft is pretty rare.

CVS Caremark, another company that ships prescriptions by mail, said it offers customers package tracking to prevent theft, but didn't answer NPR's question about how common medication theft is.

Pharmacies, including Walgreens, say they offer order tracking and use discreet packaging to help prevent theft. Customers can also opt to require a signature when their medicines are delivered.

Making sure patients don't miss a dose is a top priority, says Stryker Awtry, the director of Loss Prevention and Transformation for Optum Pharmacy, part of Optum Rx.

"Especially during the holiday seasons when deliveries surge, we want to make sure we build in peace of mind for our customers," he says. "So if a theft were to happen, No. 1, contact the pharmacy right away."

He says to also report the theft to your prescribing doctor and local law enforcement.

A lost prescription replaced  

As for Carmen Peterson in North Carolina, when she called her insurer's pharmacy to get Ethan's medicine replaced, the answer was no. But Ethan missing a dose and having a seizure that put him in the emergency room again? Not an option for her.

"It's just like it's one of those things that you just don't have a choice," she says.

If forced to, she would have found the money to buy the medicine herself.

"It was just unfortunate that the … company was so ready and kind of willing to just wash their hands of it because they felt like they had done what they were contracted to do, which is deliver the medication."

That company, Liviniti Pharmacy, said it couldn't comment on the Peterson family's experience because of patient privacy laws.

Unwilling to give up, Peterson reported the theft everywhere and made noise about it — including on her local news stations. That worked. Jazz Pharmaceuticals, the company that makes the drug Ethan needs, saw the stories and replaced it for her within a week.

Now, she recommends getting important medicines delivered to a P.O. box, a workplace or just going to the pharmacy to pick it up yourself.

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