A Traditional Tea House In Insadong, Korea: Shin Old Tea House (신옛찻집)

Buried down one of the many alleys that make up the back streets of Insadong is a quaint little tea house that appears almost forgotten.Its exterior is not particularly impressive, nor does it do much to advertise itself; it’s not until you are standing in front of the entrance that you notice the small wooden sign that reads  “신옛찻집” – Shin Old Tea House.

I pull the door open and a bell alerts the shop owner that two customers have arrived. The sweet ajumma smiles at us, her only guests on this chilly afternoon, and invites us to take off our shoes. We leave them on the concrete ground and step up unto the creaky wooden floors.

Inside it is a warm repose from Seoul’s wintry streets.

We plop ourselves down on bright silk pillows in front of a rustic table that sits just a few inches off the ground.

My eyes wander in all directions: colourful tapestries, ceramic teapots, a goldfish swimming in a tank, a large wooden chest, hanging lamps, beaded space dividers, a quirky frog sculpture, and more pillows and more knick-knacks.

Between the dim lighting and the heated floors, it’s difficult not to sink back into the cozy space.

While I’m still gazing at my surroundings and making mental notes of wallpaper designs and pillow patterns, the ajumma returns with a menu.

Ice teas and hot teas, citrous and sweet – each item listed sounds more enticing than the next.

What We Ordered At The Traditional Korean Teahouse in Insadong

I order the plum tea off the menu, and Sam opts for the ginger tea.

Our sweet beverages are accompanied by sticky rice cakes and puffed rice. I haven’t enjoyed a single rice cake I’ve tried over the course of my year in Korea, but somehow paired with my sweet plum tea the combination is just right.

The ambiance is so serene that I find myself whispering and trying to laugh quietly even though no one is listening to us and there is no one to disrupt.

This is our second last weekend in Seoul and it feels nice to be doing something traditional yet low-key.

Sipping on our teas we reminisce about the past few months together, while plotting the adventures that await us in Malaysia in just a week’s time. This little Korean tea house is the perfect place to end our time in Korea.

Just a street away Insadong’s main strip is buzzing with activity, but seated in this cozy little tea house I feel like I am miles away.

Sometimes a neighbourhood’s best kept secret lies not too far off the trodden path.

Everything You Need to Know Before Visiting Shin Old Tea House

Here’s a deeper look at Korea’s tea culture, ordering etiquette and a few practical pointers that will help you savour each sip.

The Tiny History Behind a Modest Wooden Sign

Many travellers assume Shin Old Tea House is a clever modern reconstruction. But the building itself predates the tea room by several decades. The hanok started life as a seonang-dang (a shamanic guardian-spirit house) on the edge of a ginkgo grove that once belonged to a local calligrapher. When Seoul’s post-war boom swallowed the grove, the owner’s granddaughter converted the cabin into a teahouse where her art-college friends could gather, sketch and recite poetry. She named it Shin—meaning “new” or “to believe,” depending on the hanja—because she hoped the space would inspire fresh ideas while keeping faith with Korea’s disappearing folk traditions.

Decoding the Menu: Five Signature Teas Worth a Try

The laminated English list captures only part of the story, so here are a few drinks to keep on your radar:

Tip: if you can’t decide, ask the ajumma for a ban-ban—half serve of two teas in smaller bowls. She’ll smile at the foreigner who knows the loophole.

Etiquette 101: How to Sip Like a Seoullite

• Shoes off, socks on – Holes in your heel? No judgement, but pack a spare pair if you plan a photo op.

• Lower your volume – Conversation in a tea room is pitched at gentle subway-carriage levels. If you need to FaceTime home, step outside first.

• Two-handed pour – When topping up a friend’s cup, hold the teapot with your right hand and support your forearm or wrist with your left. It’s a small nod of respect.

• Leave a few grains – If you nibble the complimentary yakgwa (honey biscuits) or rice cakes, tradition says not to polish the plate; a crumb shows you’re satiated.

• Pay at the antique till – Instead of signalling for the bill, walk to the chest near the entrance; each drawer slides out to reveal a guest ledger and bamboo pen.

Planning Your Visit

Pairing Your Tea House Stop With Nearby Gems

Making a half-day of Insadong? Try this mellow loop:

1. 11:00 a.m. – Browse antique ink stones at Tongmungwan, Korea’s oldest bookshop (est. 1907).

2. Noon – Slide down the basement stairs of Jirisan Restaurant for a vegetarian mountain-herb lunch set.

3. 1:30 – Sip maesil-cha at Shin Old Tea House while the post-lunch lull settles.

4. 3:00 – Walk to Kyung-In Museum of Fine Art; the admission ticket includes access to their courtyard persimmon trees.

5. 4:15 – End with a street-food grazing session—honeycombed hotteok and dragon-beard candy—on the main strip.

Seasonal Reasons to Return

• Spring (April) – The hanok’s courtyard azaleas blossom; limited-time cherry-blossom tea appears on the chalkboard menu.

• Monsoon (late June) – Rain drums on the tiled roof, amplifying that cozy, cave-like vibe; try smoky danggwi-cha (Angelica root) to banish the damp.

• Chuseok Holiday (Sept/Oct) – Staff wear hanbok, and you’ll receive a miniature songpyeon (half-moon rice cake) alongside your order.

• First Snow (usually Dec.) – Floor heaters crank up; order cinnamon-laced ** sujeonggwa** and watch flakes settle on the papered window lattice.

Alternatives When Shin Is Packed

Insadong has morphed into café central, but authentic hanok tea rooms remain if you know the alley map:

• Tteuran (뜰안) – Hidden behind a persimmon tree, they specialise in persimmon-leaf tea and bamboo-leaf bingsu.

• Moonbird Only Thinks of the Moon (달새는달만생각한다) – Quirky name, creaky staircase, fantastic pine-needle tea and homemade injeolmi (roasted-soybean rice cake).

• Dawon – Inside the Kyung-In art complex; sit on the veranda overlooking lotus pots while sampling five-flavour omija punch.

While coffee chains have exploded (Seoul now has more cafés per capita than Seattle), traditional tea houses anchor a slower rhythm. UNESCO recently listed “traditional Korean tea-making” on its Intangible Heritage watchlist, and spots like Shin are living classrooms. When you swirl the copper kettle, you’re literally stirring centuries of ceremony dating back to the Goryeo Dynasty’s royal darye (tea etiquette).

So fold your legs, wrap your fingers around that porcelain cup, and let the steam fog your glasses. Seoul will wait outside. Right now, it’s just you, the tea, and eighty quietly magnificent years of history.