I often criticize shows for lacking dramatic structure, but Fermentation Family is the rare work that I actually wish had a less tightly constructed plot. There are gangsters, revenge schemes, birth secrets and nefarious corporations galore but underneath all the thriller trappings is a lovely, bittersweet meditation on family, food and loss. Most of the show unfolds in a traditional restaurant, and when it stays grounded in the routines and rituals of making a meal or creating a community, it’s wonderful. I could hang out with its motley band of lost souls forever as they chop vegetables, drink makgeolli and watch the seasons change. All of the complicated story machinations feel clunky next to the power of their simple human moments. Speaking of human moments, a great deal of the show’s charm comes from its strong ensemble cast. As much as I love Song Il-Guk in serious sageuk mode, it’s a delight to watch him in a more comic role. He’s a marvelous physical actor, and his shy, awkward romance with Park Jin-Hee is one of my favorites in K-drama. A few of the secondary characters are overplayed, but most strike a nice balance between humor and heartfeltness. If you can survive the awkward first episode, the occasional jarring tonal shifts and the general overabundance of narrative threads, you’ll be rewarded with quiet, gorgeously filmed scenes of flawed people learning to connect, forgive, and let go. The show doesn’t offer any easy answers to the world’s problems, but it provides a welcome retreat to shelter from the storms.