Beyond sushi: 10 raw dishes Asia has cherished for generations
Before omakase counters and Michelin-starred nigiri, before tuna tartare and ceviche reigned on brunch menus, raw fish had already been part of the daily diet across Asia for centuries and longer. And no, sushi isn’t the whole story.
From the coastal barangays of the southern Philippines to the chilly northern provinces of Korea, people across Asia have long mastered the art of eating raw protein. It wasn’t just a culinary preference, but a matter of freshness, climate, preservation and cultural ritual. These are dishes built on trust: in your catch, your knife, your fermentation method and your ancestors.
These 10 raw dishes may not be sushi, but they have been feeding communities long before raw food was branded a lifestyle.
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Kinilaw (Philippines)
Before Filipino adobo, there was kinilaw, which many believe should be the Philippine national dish due to its provenance. This pre-colonial method of preparing fish, shellfish and sometimes meat with vinegar or citrus was one of the archipelago’s earliest food preservation techniques. The name comes from kilaw, “to eat raw”, and it’s believed to date back at least 1,000 years. Fresh fish like tanigue (mackerel) is typically “cooked” in native vinegar, with ginger, onion and chilli. Some cooks toss in coconut milk, too. Spanish explorers once mistook it for ceviche, but this isn’t an imported idea. It’s a flavour memory of seafaring, pre-refrigeration island life: bright, sharp and unapologetically acidic.
Hwe / hoe (Korea)
Korean raw fish culture doesn’t come with wasabi and whispering chefs. Instead, it comes with gochujang, soju and a side of loud conversation. Hwe or hoe refers to a broad category of raw dishes, usually thin-sliced white fish, such as halibut, flounder or rockfish, served with dipping sauces and wrapped in lettuce or perilla leaves. Historically, raw fish consumption was linked to Korea’s coastal provinces, with records tracing its practice back to the Joseon dynasty. Unlike Japanese sashimi, it is often eaten in large, social settings. It is rowdy and ritualistic; think sashimi’s wilder cousin, best chased with a shot. It also comes in the raw-meat variety.
Gohu ikan (Indonesia)
In the eastern Indonesian province of North Maluku, gohu ikan is a refreshing raw tuna dish that deserves global attention. Made with cubed fresh tuna marinated in calamansi or lime juice, bird’s eye chilli, shallots and hot coconut oil, it resembles ceviche at first glance. However, aromatic oil gives it a deeper, richer finish. Gohu ikan is often considered the Indonesian counterpart to kinilaw, though its origins are tied to the indigenous Ternate people. Even in equatorial climates, raw dishes thrive when acidity and spice do the heavy lifting.
Umai (Malaysia)
For the Melanau people of Sarawak, umai is more than a dish. Instead, it’s a tradition that dates back generations, born from fisherfolk preparing their lunch on boats using only what was fresh and available. Raw fish is sliced thin and mixed with onions, chillies and calamansi juice, often served with sago pearls or plain rice. Umai is unique not just for its Bornean roots, but for its balance of texture and heat. Once an everyday meal for workers, it’s now gaining recognition in Malaysian food circles as a regional heritage food worthy of preservation.
Let thoke (Myanmar)
Technically a salad, let thoke, which means “hand-mixed”, can involve a wide variety of ingredients, but in coastal communities, raw fish or shrimp versions exist and are eaten with lime, peanuts, fried garlic, fermented tea leaves and a riot of textures. Though less globally documented than its Southeast Asian cousins, raw seafood salad in Myanmar is deeply rooted in both regional diversity and Buddhist culinary practices, with an emphasis on freshness and balance. It’s a dish that feels like a family secret: passed down, eaten fast and rarely interpreted.
Ika sashimi (Japan)
While sushi often gets the spotlight, ika (squid) sashimi is one of Japan’s most elemental expressions of raw seafood. Sweet, translucent and slightly chewy, raw squid is served either sliced into ribbons or stuffed into the mantle and sliced into coins. In Hakodate, Hokkaido (one of Japan’s squid capitals), ika is sometimes served odorigui style, where it’s still twitching from residual nerve activity. But don’t let the drama overshadow the centuries of reverence: raw squid has been recorded in Edo-period dining, valued for its delicacy and seasonality. It's not about novelty but more about honouring the ocean in its purest form.
See more: 7 of the most expensive and exclusive types of sashimi on the market
Pla ra-based dishes (Thailand)
Pla ra, Thailand’s intensely fermented freshwater fish paste, isn’t eaten raw on its own. However, it forms the backbone of several Isaan dishes where raw fish and meats appear in bold, bracing forms. One example: koi pla, a spicy raw fish salad mixed with lime, chilli, shallots, roasted rice powder and often a spoonful of pla ra for deep funk. It’s popular in northeastern Thailand and Laos but has been the subject of public health debates due to parasitic risks. Still, the tradition persists, grounded in cultural identity and the instinct to flavour fearlessly. It’s a dish that reminds you that food is often political before it’s pretty.
Narezushi (Japan)
Before modern sushi evolved into artful nigiri and chirashi bowls, there was narezushi. This is the OG of fermented raw fish. Made by packing fish (often freshwater varieties like carp) in salt and cooked rice for months to ferment, it dates back over a thousand years. The result is pungent, soft, intensely sour and completely unlike today’s sushi. Narezushi, still made in select parts of Japan like Shiga Prefecture, was originally developed as a preservation technique in a pre-refrigeration era. Today, it’s more historical artefact than lunch order—but its legacy lives in every sushi roll.
Lao lap / koi (Laos)
Often overshadowed by its Thai sibling larb, the Laotian dish koi is traditionally made with raw freshwater fish or beef, marinated with fish sauce, lime, chilli, galangal and toasted rice powder. It’s bold and herbal, and despite the occasional overlap with Thai larb, the Laotian version is often raw and more aggressively seasoned. Foundational to Lao identity, the dish is best eaten fresh, by hand and without apologies.
San-nakji (Korea)
For the adventurous palate, Korea offers san-nakji, a dish that’s as famous for its immediate, startling freshness as its flavour. Tiny, live octopus (nakji) is quickly chopped into bite-sized pieces and served immediately, often with just a drizzle of sesame oil and a sprinkle of sesame seeds. The pieces are still twitching and suction cups are active, providing a unique, almost alarming tactile experience as they cling to the palate. While controversial for its perceived “liveliness”, san-nakji is a testament to the Korean emphasis on extreme freshness and distinct textures. It's not just food; it’s an exhilarating culinary dare.
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