636 recipes. Page 20 of 27
Everyday Korean side dish recipes
How long the stems simmer decides this kimchi: seven minutes in salted water, then half an hour in cold water, takes out the bitterness and the toughness, and undercooked stems keep both. Unlike the soy-pickled version, these butterbur stems are tossed in a red chili paste thickened with glutinous rice porridge. Gentle tossing matters, since squeezing hard breaks the crisp fibers.
Every butterbur stem has to be peeled end to end, because the outer skin is a layer of tough strings. Some bitterness survives blanching; the stems are dressed with doenjang and ground perilla seeds, and if the bitterness is too much, more perilla powder goes in.
Instead of being stirred into liquid, the doenjang (Korean soybean paste) is fried at the edge of the pan in the fat from the pork, which cooks off its pasty smell, before the blanched cauliflower goes in. There is no broth at all, and the heat goes off while the cauliflower stems still have a little firmness.
With nothing more than radish, soy sauce, sugar, and garlic, everything depends on cooking the thick 2 cm rounds through to the center. Covered first, then uncovered to reduce, the radish turns translucent at the edges and picks up the soy while its own sweetness rounds out the salt. A single green chili and a little sesame oil at the very end add a light kick and a nutty smell to an otherwise plain, everyday side.
After two or three days in the fridge in a soy and vinegar brine, the water parsley (minari) stays crisp and its fresh, grassy smell picks up a salty, tart edge. Leftover water is what usually turns it limp, so the washed stalks are spread out and dried thoroughly first.
Minari, sold in English as water parsley, smells clean and green in a way parsley and celery do not, and the scent does not survive much heat. Past 20 seconds in the pot it leaves with the steam and only the crunch remains, which is why the blanching stops there.
Kohlrabi is firm and a little sweet, and even stir-fried it still crunches between pieces of springy shrimp. The red bell pepper is there more for color than flavor.
Unlike the spicy, raw-dressed dried radish salad, this version braises rehydrated radish strips with thin slices of lean beef eye of round in a soy broth until chewy and lightly sweet. Drying concentrates the radish's sugar, and the strips drink up the braising liquid as they simmer. Soaking them in cold water for at least 20 minutes, until they spring back, sets up the right final texture.
Ten minutes of salt is all the water dropwort (minari) gets, so the stems stay crisp and the fresh, grassy aroma comes through intact. Even draining is gentle, a light press with the palm, since wringing the stems would cost them that snap. Anchovy fish sauce gives the light herb a savory base, and the fruity tartness of plum syrup softens the chili heat, while finely grated onion binds the paste into one smooth seasoning. Served with fatty pork belly or boiled pork, the herb clears the richness from the palate between bites. It is best eaten cold on the day it is made, before the stems wilt further.
Dried miyeok swells more than eightfold in a 20-minute soak, so adding extra because the dry pile looks small quickly turns one side dish into a big bowlful.
The ingredients match the usual boiled-and-dressed soybean sprout side dish, but here the sprouts go straight into an oiled pan and pick up a faint smoky note. The lid never goes on. Covering the pan traps steam, which turns the cooking into steaming and keeps the raw, beany smell in.
Made from the same tiny dried anchovies as crunchy myeolchi-bokkeum, this braise goes the other way: the fish soak up a soy and sugar syrup and stay moist and tender inside. The heat drops further near the end so they never dry out and turn hard, and as it cools, the glaze thickens around each anchovy.
Crunchy seaweed stems carry a layer of salty soy and sharp vinegar over a faint taste of the sea. The stems are blanched for only about 20 seconds and squeezed dry right away; that brief dip is what keeps their snappy chew. Onion lends the brine a natural sweetness and cheongyang chile a hot finish. Salted stems vary in saltiness, so the soaking time is adjusted by tasting a strand.
Miyeokgwi, the ruffled base of the sea mustard plant (sold as mekabu in Japan), is thicker and bumpier than the leaves and bounces back when you bite it. It is dressed sweet, sour, and hot with chili flakes, soy, vinegar, and sugar, then chilled for 10 minutes before serving.
Take the garlic scapes off the heat while they are still bright green and they stay crisp to the core; longer than that, the color dulls and they turn tough. For anyone who eats less heat, hold back some of the gochujang sauce and add it bit by bit, tasting as you go.
A couple of fork pricks in each shishito pepper keep them from bursting in the hot pan and let the soy and syrup glaze seep inside. The peppers are stir-fried on their own until glossy and lightly wrinkled, while the anchovies are toasted dry and only tossed back in for a quick glaze. You get nutty, salty anchovies against the mild green taste of the peppers.
Cubes cut to an even 1.5 cm take in the hot soy brine at the same pace, and after three days in the fridge they turn slightly translucent and salty-sweet to the center. The brine goes into the jar right after it comes to a full boil, because longer boiling drives off the sharpness of the vinegar. A single dried chile tucked among the cubes adds a gentle warmth. It sits comfortably beside gimbap, bibimbap or a bowl of gukbap.
Pulling radishes in autumn, at kimchi-making time, leaves a pile of radish greens. Dried, they become siraegi; boiled and dressed right away, they become this namul. It is seasoned with doenjang and soup soy sauce and finished with ground perilla seeds, which thicken it.
Bacon cooked slowly over low heat gives up smoky fat, and that fat becomes the base for stir-frying the garlic scapes, with little or no extra oil needed. Since bacon is already salty, the soy sauce is scaled back to taste, and a spoonful of syrup leaves a thin glossy coat that balances the salt with sweetness.
Pollock roe is loosened with egg and water, spread thinly over slabs of firm tofu, and steamed until it sets like a soft savory custard. Firm tofu holds its shape in the steamer, and pressing out only the excess water, leaving the surface moist, keeps the slabs from cracking. Green onion and red chili go on near the end so their color stays bright.
Drying concentrates the radish's sweetness, and the rehydrated strips keep a chew that sets them apart from fresh radish pickles, as long as the soak in lukewarm water stops at 20 minutes, when the centers bend but before they turn floppy. The chili flakes are stirred into the brine after it has cooled completely, so the color spreads evenly through the jar.
Drying makes radish sweeter and chewy, and that chew is the reason to use it. The strips get only 20 minutes in cold water; any longer and they turn limp like fresh radish. Rice syrup in the gochujang dressing gives it its shine.
Garlic scapes taste of garlic without the sharp bite of the cloves, more sweet than pungent, and even people who shy away from garlic tend to keep reaching for them. Their season runs from spring into early summer, when the stalks are at their most tender.
Hollowed cucumber sections are packed with a filling of ground chicken, tofu, and carrot, then steamed upright so each piece has a crisp green shell around a soft, juicy center. Seasoning stays minimal, just soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil, and steaming without oil keeps much of the cucumber's fresh aroma. Seon is a style of stuffed, steamed dish from Korean court cooking, and a little mustard sauce or vinegared soy alongside adds a sharp note.