Lakewood’s Koreatown: The Largest K-Town in the Pacific Northwest and a Must-Visit in Tacoma

The largest Koreatown in the Pacific Northwest might surprise you with its location. Nestled in Lakewood, Washington, a city of 60,000 just outside Tacoma, it’s a stark contrast to the usual I-5 corridor sights of fast food, gas stations, and car dealerships. As you turn onto South Tacoma Way, you’ll encounter a vibrant stretch of Korean strip malls that feels like a sudden oasis. Spanning four miles, Lakewood’s Koreatown boasts numerous restaurants, bookstores, travel agencies, large grocery stores, and department stores, serving a substantial Korean American community of about 17,000 in Pierce County, surpassing even the tri-county area around Portland or Seattle.

Community enclaves have always been crucial for immigrants, offering support and continuity. Chinatowns across the country, many established in the late 1800s in response to exclusionary policies, are prime examples. The original Koreatown in Los Angeles emerged in the early 20th century, centered around churches and supported by businesses and services, as discriminatory housing laws and racial covenants confined Korean immigrants to this area.

The 1950s saw a surge of Korean immigrants to the U.S., many women and students relocating after the Korean War. The pivotal change came with the Immigration and Naturalization Act of 1965, which relaxed immigration restrictions. This act led to a massive influx of immigrants seeking to reunite with relatives or escape conflict. By the 1970s, LA’s Korean community had grown significantly, laying the groundwork for the expansive Koreatown we know today.

Lakewood’s Koreatown stands out for its unique origin story, driven largely by a group of women addressing specific community needs. Among them was Sulja Warnick, a former high school English teacher from Daegu who had lived through the Korean War. After marrying a third-generation Tacoma native she met while studying in South Korea, Warnick moved to the U.S. with him, contributing to the development of Lakewood’s vibrant Korean community.

In 1972, amidst the growth of LA’s Koreatown, a group of Korean women in Lakewood established the Korean Women’s Association. They gathered monthly to enjoy meals, sing together, and provide a much-needed sense of community and belonging after their move to the U.S. Many of these women had relocated after marrying American soldiers following the Korean War, settling near the local military bases. Warnick, who joined in 1976, noted that adjusting to life in the U.S. was challenging, with many struggling with English and modern conveniences like dishwashers and washing machines.

Over time, a troubling issue emerged: many women who had married American soldiers found themselves in abusive domestic situations and struggled to communicate their plight to base officers. In the late 1970s, Warnick, then a translator at Fort Lewis, encountered a young woman who had been assaulted by her husband. Distressed by the situation, Warnick took the woman to her home and pleaded with her not to return to the abuser. This experience prompted Warnick and others to intensify their commitment to the association.

By this period, the Korean Women’s Association had evolved into a vital social services entity, offering ESL classes, driving instruction, and practical skills like resume writing and operating household appliances. In 1979, it officially became a nonprofit and expanded its mission through the 1990s to include affordable housing and senior care. Today, it stands as one of Washington’s largest nonprofits, employing 1,400 staff across 11 counties and managing over $40 million annually, with Warnick as the last active founding member.

“Tacoma is a close-knit community; getting involved means making a real difference,” Warnick observed. “By engaging with the Korean Women’s Association, I gained invaluable experience and developed a strong network.”

In late March, I spent two gray days navigating the four-mile stretch of South Tacoma Way in Lakewood and the nearby Federal Way, where a newer Koreatown has recently taken shape. I explored from cozy, homestyle diners to large, fluorescent-lit grocery stores. While LA’s sunshine might evoke thoughts of grilled meats, Lakewood excels in warming soups and stews like soondubu, sullungtang, and budae jjigae that are perfect for the Northwest’s dreary, cool weather.

On my first visit to Lakewood two years ago, I beat the seasonal chill by spending nearly the entire time at Olympus Spa, a women-only jjimjilbang or Korean day spa. This time, I used the spa as a landmark and set out to sample as much local cuisine as possible within 48 hours.

Located next to Olympus, Ho Soon Yi is a small, bright-yellow Mytoury with a Smurf-blue roof, known for its spicy soft tofu stews. The menu offers a dozen variations of soondubu, which can be customized with extras like bacon or fish roe. I opted for ham and sausage to enhance the silky tofu, adding a raw egg to the steaming, anchovy-flavored stew upon arrival. The stew was mildly spicy with bits of salty pork, perfect alongside a bowl of rice on that overcast day. Ho Soon Yi also served the best barbecue I tasted in Lakewood — a $13.95 galbi special featuring a generous portion of well-seared, sesame-coated short ribs, sweet, savory, and smoky with a hint of pink inside.

A couple of blocks south, I found a popular spot for budae jjigae and knew I had to try at least one bowl. Budae jjigae, or “army stew,” originated from the use of surplus items like ramen and Spam shortly after the Korean War, when food was scarce. At Tacoma Cheong Guk Jang, the budae jjigae was served in an enormous metal pot, overflowing with ramen, kimchi, enoki mushrooms, green onions, and ample slices of Spam, hot dogs, kielbasa, tofu, pork belly, and Lit’l Smokies in a fiery red broth. I managed only two bowls of the spicy, sweat-inducing stew before needing to request takeout containers. When I asked the server if anyone had ever finished the whole pot, she laughed.

Opposite the street, Saritgol offers a superb yang ji sullungtang, a rich noodle soup with a creamy white broth made from simmered ox bones, and a blazing yukgaejang, a spicy ox bone soup packed with shredded beef and white radish. The sullungtang is served with green onions floating over tender brisket and chewy wheat noodles; you can adjust the seasoning with salt, black pepper, red pepper, and green onions from the table. The dish also comes with a small bowl of tangy soy dipping sauce for the brisket. By this point, having enjoyed nearly five bowls of robust, meat-laden soups and stews, I was craving something sweet.

The go-to spot in Lakewood for cold, unique treats is the newly opened T-Town Cafe. This cozy, wood-paneled cafe, known for its always full parking lot, offers a diverse menu of sweet and savory items with a strong Korean influence. Highlights include soft serve-filled taiyaki (Japanese fish-shaped cakes usually with red bean paste) and injeolmi bingsu, airy shaved ice topped with sweet rice cakes and bulgogi cheese fries.

The taiyaki can be ordered in pairs, stuffed with red bean, custard, sweet potato, or Nutella, or as a crispy-chewy cone paired with your choice of green tea, vanilla, or ube soft serve. Hotteok, Korean sweet pancakes filled with cinnamon sugar and peanuts, are available plain or with soft serve. I tried a taiyaki cone with red bean paste and vanilla-green tea swirl, topped with sprinkles and Pocky, and another filled with Nutella, topped with ube-vanilla swirl, Fruity Pebbles, sprinkles, and Pocky in a cup.

T-Town’s airy “snowflake” bingsu uses milk ice instead of traditional water, creating a texture so finely shaved it barely registers as cold on the first bite. I tried the black sesame injeolmi, which featured delicate layers of snow, red bean paste, and creamy vanilla ice cream.

Although I arrived before any other diners, I could only imagine the lively evenings at Momo Cafe/Hof, one of Lakewood’s top chimaek spots—Korea’s favorite late-night combination of fried chicken (“chi”) and beer (“maek”). Inside, individual booths separated by vinyl partitions adorned with Korean liquor ads created a sense of privacy in the chicken joint, decorated with beer caps and soju bottle tops hot-glued to the pillars or draped as garlands from the ceiling.

The vibrant decor sets the stage for the main draw: crispy fried chicken paired with “Korean radish coleslaw”—a crunchy Napa cabbage salad mixed with pickled radish and a tangy vinegar dressing. My “half and half” wings—half plain, half coated in a sticky sweet-spicy sauce—arrived perfectly crisp and lightly breaded. The coleslaw was a refreshing palate cleanser and some of the only vegetables I had eaten all day. After a day of indulgence, I managed to savor a couple of wings and took the rest to go, needing a long walk and a fridge for my expanding collection of takeout containers.

In 1973, around the same time the Korean Women’s Association was expanding, Boo Han and his family immigrated from Seoul to Tacoma. Noticing a shortage of Korean food and produce, Han saved money from his jobs at Lakewood General Hospital and a meat processing plant to open a small rice cake and tofu factory. Starting in the family garage in 1975, the factory became so successful that Han barely slept. By 1978, it expanded to include a small grocery store, also named after Boo Han, operating from the family home and stocking hard-to-find items like medium-grain rice, local seafood, and frozen goods. “My dad wanted to create a place where Korean Americans could feel a bit like they were back in Korea,” said Boo Han’s son, Jae. “I think he achieved that in the area.”

The following year, the Han family relocated the store from the garage to a building now part of the store’s parking lot. As more Korean families settled in search of familiar foods and goods, both the store and the community grew. By the 1980s, Boo Han expanded beyond retail, supplying other Korean-owned stores in the area. At one point, 17 small Korean grocers were supplied with rice cakes and tofu by Boo Han, according to Jae Han.

By 1990, the Han family had accumulated enough funds to acquire neighboring properties, setting the stage for future expansion. Boo Han also established two additional locations: one in Portland, Oregon (which is now independent of the Han family but retains the original name), and another in Edmonds, Washington, currently managed by Jae Han.

As the Boo Han grocery chain grew and the Korean Women’s Association thrived, Lakewood’s Koreatown solidified into a vibrant neighborhood, with increasing support from the community for Korean businesses and Mytouries. Starting in the late 1980s, Korean shopping malls began emerging along South Tacoma Way. In 1988, Warnick’s husband constructed Koreana Plaza, the first major shopping center, which housed 16 establishments, including a Korean bookstore, a Chinese herbal medicine shop, and a doughnut shop.

With the rise of large-scale malls in the late 1980s and early ’90s, the Korean Women’s Association proposed officially designating South Tacoma Way as Koreatown, complete with signage. While Lakewood opted to name the area the “International District,” the businesses in the area remain predominantly Korean.

Starting in the late 1980s, Lakewood’s Korean community began expanding further, reaching into Tacoma proper. A smaller, yet significant strip of Korean restaurants and stores emerged about two miles long, approximately 18 miles north along Tacoma’s Federal Way, creating a mini-Koreatown closer to Seattle. This restaurant corridor is a popular destination for Seattleites seeking homestyle Korean cuisine. I embarked on another soup exploration here, hopping between Youngwol Noodle, known for its kalguksu or knife-cut noodles, Traditional Korean Beef Soup for a comforting bowl of sullungtang, and Seoul Restaurant to savor their haejangguk, or hangover soup.

Youngwol Noodle offers a unique dish I’d never tried before: deulkkae kalguksu. Ground perilla seeds, which are also used in ssam, infuse the thick, milky broth with a nutty, barley-like flavor. Combined with chewy, handmade noodles and slices of acorn jelly, it makes for a hearty, comforting meal, especially when paired with pumpkin porridge and steamed barley.

One of the most anticipated spots on my list was Traditional Korean Beef Soup, located just a strip mall north. This restaurant lives up to its name with a menu centered around sullungtang, its specialty. During my trip planning, I had only received one strong recommendation about Lakewood’s Koreatown: this very restaurant, suggested by Peter Cho and Sun Young Park from Portland’s Han Oak.

From the exterior, Traditional Korean Beef Soup could easily be mistaken for an aquarium, with its darkened windows and frosted edges. Inside, the aroma of beef fills the air as diners settle into dark, high-backed booths. The bowls of piping hot, unseasoned soup arrived quickly, accompanied by cabbage and daikon kimchi, dadegi (spicy chili powder sauce), a massive bowl of sliced green onions, and rice. Despite the array of sides, the rich, tonkotsu-like broth was the star; it was so satisfying that I drank straight from the bowl to savor every last drop.

My final stop was Seoul Restaurant, a cozy, wood-paneled establishment known for its haejangguk and substantial dishes like bossam (thin-sliced pork belly wrapped in cabbage) and jokbal (sliced boiled pig’s feet). I ordered the steaming soondae haejangguk, featuring hearty slices of noodle-stuffed blood sausage and chewy honeycomb tripe. The soup, enriched with a forest of garlicky stewed greens hidden beneath the meat and mung bean sprouts, was flecked with spicy chile oil for extra kick.

As I returned to T-Town for one last taiyaki cone, I pondered the future of Lakewood’s Koreatown. The area, like much of the Pacific Northwest, is evolving. Many Korean Americans are relocating from LA’s Koreatown in search of more affordable housing. According to Warnick, the Korean Women’s Association is seeing many new faces, including a lot of second-generation immigrants who are set to become the driving force in the community. This generational shift is why the KWA is transitioning leadership to the younger generation.

Warnick noted that the second-generation Korean Americans are leaving their own mark on Lakewood’s Koreatown. The KWA has updated its bylaws to cap board members' terms at nine years. Many first-generation restaurant owners have passed their businesses to their American-born children, leading to bolder flavors and inventive twists on traditional dishes. Despite living in the Lakewood area for over 43 years, Warnick continues to be amazed by the community's growth and achievements.

Warnick expressed her admiration for the community’s evolution, saying, “It’s incredible what Koreans have accomplished here. When I first arrived, Boo Han’s family was just starting out, selling bean sprouts, tofu, and rice cakes... and look at what they’ve built now! With KWA, we were driven by a deep commitment to supporting our community, seeking justice and fairness for our people.”

Samantha Bakall is a Chinese-American freelance journalist and photographer who focuses on food diversity issues.Edited by Matt Buchanan