The Drama: Prison Playbook and the Art of Finding Joy
The buzzer sounds. 6 AM.
In a concrete cell barely big enough for four grown men, Kim Je-hyuk—yesterday’s baseball superstar, today’s inmate number 2879—opens his eyes to fluorescent lights and the clang of metal doors. This is his life now: scheduled meals, scheduled sleep, scheduled everything.
Welcome to Prison Playbook (슬기로운 감빵생활), the 2017 tvN drama that somehow turned a Korean correctional facility into the most heartwarming place on television. Director Shin Won-ho, the mastermind behind Reply 1988, did the impossible—he made us laugh, cry, and get desperately hungry watching prisoners eat.
And eat they do.
Every episode features food scenes so lovingly shot, so tenderly consumed, that you forget these men are behind bars. The way they share a packet of instant noodles. The reverence with which they receive a homemade meal from a visiting family member. The ingenuity of “Munraedong KAIST”—an engineer-turned-inmate who transforms cup noodles into gourmet bibimmyeon using nothing but soda and determination.
But it’s the humble dosirak that captures this drama’s soul—those simple aluminum lunchboxes that evoke a simpler time, when food meant survival, love, and connection all packed into a small metal container.
The History of Dosirak
What Is Dosirak?
Dosirak (도시락) is the Korean word for a packed meal or lunchbox. The term comes from dosiraku (道子樂) in classical Korean, though some linguists trace it to the Japanese dōshiraku. Regardless of etymology, the concept is universal: portable food, carried from home to wherever life takes you.
But in Korea, dosirak isn’t just food. It’s memory.
The Golden Age of Aluminum
Picture Korea in the 1970s. The country is industrializing at breakneck speed. The average GDP per capita is $279—fresh meat is a luxury, refrigeration is rare, and mothers wake before dawn to prepare their children’s lunches.
Enter the aluminum lunchbox.
| Era | Dosirak Type | Characteristics |
|---|---|---|
| Joseon Dynasty | Bamboo tumak (투막) | Woven containers for peasants and soldiers |
| Japanese Colonial | Bento-style | Lacquered wooden boxes |
| Post-Korean War | Tin/aluminum | Cheap, durable, industrial |
| 1970s-1980s | Golden aluminum | Mass-produced, iconic |
| 2000s-present | Nostalgic revival | Retro restaurants, pojangmacha |
These golden boxes had no compartments. Rice on the bottom. Banchan (side dishes) piled on top. By the time a child walked to school, everything would be mixed together—rice absorbing the kimchi juice, egg pieces scattered throughout, pink sausage slices intermingling with everything.
This wasn’t a design flaw. It was destiny.
The Radiator Ritual
In winter, Korean students would place their dosirak on the classroom’s coal-heated radiator. The warmth would permeate the aluminum, heating the rice and banchan to a perfect steaming temperature by lunchtime. The entire classroom would smell of home—garlic, sesame oil, fermented vegetables.
When the lunch bell rang, students would shake their dosirak vigorously—the ultimate mixing method. Then they’d pop the lid, and inside would be a beautiful mess of flavors, textures, and a mother’s love.
The Yennal-Dosirak Revival
By the 2000s, as Korea became one of the world’s most prosperous nations, something strange happened. People started missing those simple aluminum lunchboxes. Yennal-dosirak (옛날 도시락, “old-style lunchbox”) restaurants began appearing, serving the exact same food their parents had packed decades ago—but at premium prices.
The mixed-up taste became comfort food. The childhood memory became a marketable experience.
The Recipe: Classic Korean Dosirak
Ingredients
- Short-grain rice (2 cups, cooked)
- Korean pink sausage (분홍소세지, or substitute Vienna sausages) Amazon →
- Eggs (3-4)
- Kimchi (stir-fried for dosirak) Amazon →
- Roasted seaweed flakes (김자반, gimjaban) Amazon →
- Carrots (1 small, finely diced)
- Green onions (2, finely chopped)
- Sesame oil Amazon →
- Salt and vegetable oil
Equipment
- Korean aluminum dosirak (traditional lunchbox) Amazon →
- Non-stick pan (for gyeran-mari)
- Skillet for stir-frying
Video Tutorial
Video by Aaron and Claire
Instructions
Step 1: Make Gyeran-mari (Korean Rolled Omelette)
The cornerstone of any proper dosirak. This isn’t a Western omelette—it’s a delicate, layered roll.
- Beat 3 eggs with a pinch of salt
- Add finely diced carrots and green onions
- Heat a non-stick pan over medium-low heat
- Lightly oil the pan with a paper towel (micro-film, not a puddle)
- Pour a thin layer of egg mixture
- When mostly set but still slightly wet on top, roll from one end
- Push the roll to one side, add more egg, lift roll to let egg flow underneath
- Roll again. Repeat until all egg is used
- Let cool, then slice into 1-inch pieces
The secret: roll while the top is still slightly wet. Too dry, and it tears.
Step 2: Prepare the Pink Sausage
The iconic bunhong-soseji (pink sausage) was invented during Korea’s industrialization when fresh meat was unaffordable.
- Slice sausages diagonally into oval shapes
- Lightly beat one egg for coating
- Dip sausage slices in egg
- Pan-fry until golden on both sides
- The egg coating creates a protective layer and adds protein
Step 3: Stir-Fry the Kimchi
Fresh kimchi can make a dosirak soggy and smelly. Stir-frying solves both problems.
- Squeeze excess liquid from 1 cup of kimchi
- Chop into bite-sized pieces
- Stir-fry in a dry pan over medium heat for 2-3 minutes
- Add ½ tsp sesame oil and a pinch of sugar
- Cook until slightly caramelized and dry
Step 4: Assemble the Dosirak
Now comes the art:
- Pack hot rice into the bottom of your lunchbox
- Drizzle with sesame oil
- Sprinkle seaweed flakes (gimjaban) over the rice
- Arrange gyeran-mari slices on one side
- Place egg-coated sausages on another
- Add stir-fried kimchi in the remaining space
- Top with a fried egg if desired
Step 5: The Ritual
When it’s time to eat, hold your dosirak with both hands and shake vigorously for 30 seconds. The contents will mix together, the sesame oil will coat everything, and you’ll have created the perfect bite in every spoonful.
FAQ
Why do Korean dosirak have no compartments?
Traditional Korean dosirak were designed without compartments because the food was meant to be mixed together. Unlike Japanese bento, where visual separation is prized, Korean lunchboxes celebrate the harmony of flavors that comes from everything touching. The “shaking” ritual before eating is part of the experience.
Why stir-fry the kimchi?
Fresh kimchi releases liquid and can make rice soggy during transport. Stir-frying removes excess moisture, intensifies the flavor, and makes the kimchi less pungent (important in enclosed spaces like classrooms or offices). The caramelization also adds sweetness that balances the sourness.
What is bunhong-soseji (pink sausage)?
Bunhong-soseji (분홍소세지) literally means “pink sausage.” In the 1970s, when Korea’s GDP per capita was under $300, companies created cheap processed meat products as protein alternatives. This pink sausage became a lunchbox staple—coating it with egg before frying was a way to add nutrition and stretch the protein further.
Can I use a regular container instead of an aluminum dosirak?
Yes, but the experience won’t be quite the same. The aluminum conducts heat well (great for warming on radiators, though we don’t recommend that today) and creates a nostalgic presentation. Modern insulated containers work for keeping food warm, but the aesthetic is different.
What other banchan work well in a dosirak?
Classic dosirak banchan include:
- Myulchi-bokkeum (stir-fried anchovies)
- Odeng-bokkeum (stir-fried fish cake)
- Jangjorim (soy-braised beef)
- Gamja-bokkeum (stir-fried potatoes)
- Pickled radish or danmuji
The key is choosing items that don’t release much liquid and can sit at room temperature.
Why was the dosirak so important in Prison Playbook?
In Prison Playbook, food represents connection to the outside world. Inmates receive standardized meals, but when family members visit, they sometimes bring homemade food. The contrast between institutional food and a mother’s dosirak represents love, memory, and everything the prisoners have temporarily lost.
Make It Tonight
There’s something revolutionary about simple food.
In Prison Playbook, the most memorable meals aren’t elaborate. They’re cup noodles transformed by ingenuity. They’re home-cooked meals eaten in a visiting room. They’re the memory of what food used to taste like before everything changed.
The dosirak represents this perfectly. It’s not fancy. It’s rice, eggs, sausage, and kimchi—foods available to almost everyone. But packed with care, shaken with intention, eaten with gratitude, it becomes something more.
Tonight, skip the compartmentalized meal prep container. Find the simplest vessel you have. Pack it with whatever you’ve got—rice, leftovers, whatever fits. And when you eat, shake it first. Mix it all together. Let the flavors become one.
That’s what Korean food is about. That’s what Prison Playbook understood. The walls don’t matter when the food tastes like home.
오늘 밤, 슬기로운 감빵생활의 주인공들처럼 추억의 양은 도시락을 흔들어 먹어보는 건 어떨까요?
Hero image: “Dosirak” by Ryuch, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
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Part of our K-Drama Kitchen series—cooking the dishes that made us hungry while watching.
