Propaganda

Heat, rice, and the first plate out

The first heat lands in the fryer before the room fills. Youra Kim, chef at Propaganda in Copenhagen, works from that register: Korean flavour, direct seasoning, and a table that feels close rather than staged. She came to the kitchen after Noma, where discipline sharpened her sense of control, then took the post at Propaganda in 2021. The move matters because the food does not read like fine dining translated downward. It reads like a cook choosing another frame. Kim has described the room as “like inviting people into my own home,” and the cooking follows that line without softening its edges. Fried galbi rice, kimchi mandu, glass noodle crab soup, and gochujang fried chicken wings sit in a language of comfort, heat, and specificity. The bench here is not arranged around spectacle. It is arranged around pace, appetite, and the ability to bring a dish to the table while its texture still has its say.

A Korean kitchen with a natural wine spine

Propaganda opened in December 2021 as a Korean restaurant, wine bar, takeaway counter, and bottle shop under one roof, from the Barabba team and owner Riccardo Marcon. That structure shapes the craft as much as the menu does. The pass sends out small plates and à la carte dishes built for sharing: Korean Fried Chicken, Ongsimi Bokki, kimchi and pork mandu, galbi rice with pork neck, soy-cured egg yolk, and house BBQ sauce. The method stays legible. Frying has to hold skin and juice at once; curing gives the egg yolk weight; rice carries heat, fat, and sauce without becoming background. The wine program works in the same informal key, with natural and organic bottles chosen to sit beside spice, vinegar, allium, and fried crust. Guests can drink from the list or take bottles away, and the cellar’s range gives the kitchen another register: not contrast for its own sake, but lift, cut, and a little volatility where the food can meet it.

The room keeps the volume up

The room is raw and pared back, with a dark interior, loud music, and the kind of informal pressure that suits a busy pass. It is not a hushed dining room built to flatter glassware. It is a city-centre room where plates move, bottles leave shelves, and the counter feels close to the work. That proximity suits Kim’s food. Fried chicken arrives as something to share rather than admire; mandu and rice carry warmth without ceremony; the natural wine program keeps the table in motion. The service style is relaxed, but the cooking asks for attention in the hand: crisp skin, cured yolk, heat that gathers rather than shouts. At Propaganda, gochujang fried chicken wings still set the measure.