[Lost] Fumu Fumu

A Japanese-Style Brunch Spot That No Longer Exists

Some places are easy to walk past. Fumu Fumu was not one of them.

The sign out front — ふむふむ in rounded hiragana, followed by the English subtitle brunch & pub — already told you this wasn’t going to be a ordinary meal. Tucked into a quiet alley, its white-painted brick exterior and dark wooden door felt like a deliberate step out of Seoul and into somewhere warmer, slower, slightly imagined.

Inside, the space was layered with the kind of detail that takes years to accumulate: Persian rugs on worn wooden floors, floral curtains dividing the rooms, mismatched chairs, shelves of small objects, warm lamp light even in the middle of the day. It felt less like a designed interior and more like someone had simply been living there for a long time and decided to start serving food.

The food leaned Japanese in spirit — soft, considered, a little whimsical. A signature egg dish arrived plated like a small face, surrounded by cherry tomatoes, arugula, ham, and olives. The kind of thing that made you smile before you ate it.

A chalkboard menu stood outside on the pavement. The red velvet sofa by the window was almost always occupied. A rag doll sat on the windowsill watching the street.

Fumu Fumu is gone now. The building is still there. But whatever it was — that particular combination of someone’s taste, patience, and cooking — that’s harder to find again.

If you went, you probably remember it.