The price increases have caused many middle- and lower-income homemakers to cancel the making of kimchi at home this year, a traditional rite of autumn that typically brings together mothers, daughters, aunts, grannies and neighbors. Some families can go through a couple of hundred heads of cabbage, and it’s not unusual for all the bathtubs and sinks in a house to be filled with bobbing cabbages as they are washed, soaked and brined.

“I’m probably not going to do it at home this year,” said Roh Eun-ja, a Seoul restaurant owner. “Even if the price of cabbage comes down and I do make kimchi, I’ll be downsizing. Not so much this year.”

Mrs. Roh has two daughters, both in their 30s, and she said they learned to make kimchi “by looking over my shoulder, by tasting and doing, like all Korean girls are supposed to.”

One daughter works at an Outback steakhouse, the other at an upscale department store, and they have little time to make kimchi on their own, Mrs. Roh said, lamenting the loss of another tradition to the “ppali ppali” or “hurry hurry” lifestyle of modern South Korea.

“It’s also more expensive to make it on your own,” Mrs. Roh said, “so more and more people buy it ready-made now. That’s what my daughters do.”

Supermarkets have reportedly had difficulty keeping packaged kimchi in stock. A pouch of the popular Chongga Jip brand, made solely from Korean ingredients, sold this week for $4.05 a pound — about half the price of homemade.

Some Koreans are taking the kimchi crisis in stride, saying it is a blip in the market. At her food stall in the sprawling Mo Rae Ne market in western Seoul, Lee Young-ae still serves free kimchi to the vendors and laborers who come by for a $5 plate of roasted pig cheeks, blood sausage and her famous soondae soup.