636 recipes. Page 22 of 27
Everyday Korean side dish recipes
Made with early-spring shepherd's purse, this kimchi is eaten as soon as the seasoning settles in the fridge, and sweet rice paste gives the chili and anchovy sauce dressing enough body to cling to the thin stems. Washing takes more care than anything else in the recipe: soil hides between the fine roots, and any left behind makes the whole batch taste muddy and bitter.
The name echoes the tang-tang of the knife hitting the board as live octopus is chopped into short, chopstick-sized pieces. An egg yolk sits in the middle to be stirred in just before eating, while the sesame oil and salt dip stays on the side so each bite can be seasoned to taste. Any water left on the octopus after cleaning pools on the plate and keeps the oil from clinging, so it is patted completely dry.
Seaweed stems are thick and springy and crunch audibly when you bite them. Salted stems vary a lot by brand, so after soaking, taste one strand and rinse again in fresh water if it is still too salty.
Thick slices of Korean radish line the pot and soak up the soy broth, while the Spanish mackerel rests on top, never touching the bottom, so its soft flesh keeps its shape. A short rest in rice wine before cooking tones down the fishy smell, and the seasoning stays light with just soy sauce and garlic. Cheongyang chili added at the end gives the mild broth a clean, spicy finish, and the radish is as much a part of the meal as the fish.
Raw nakji, a slender-armed octopus, gets a 30-minute salt cure and then goes straight into the red pepper seasoning and stays springy instead of turning soft like long-fermented jeotgal. Thin arms and the thick body are cut to different lengths so each piece makes a similar bite. Starch syrup makes the dressing glossy and sweet, slices of garlic give some bites a sharp edge, and sesame finishes it with a toasted note. Anyone who should avoid raw seafood should skip this dish, as salt curing does not replace cooking.
Ogeurakji is North Gyeongsang dialect for dried radish shriveled and curled up, and the name covers the seasoned side dish made from it. Jocheong (grain syrup) stands in for sugar, which makes the chili dressing cling heavy and glossy, and anchovy fish sauce with soy sauce does the salting. It needs a hard kneading by hand or the seasoning just slides around. Eat it right away, or give it a day in the fridge for the red to reach the center of each strip.
Where most seaweed stem stir-fries finish with sesame oil, this one is cooked in perilla oil and coated in plenty of ground perilla seed, which pushes the nutty flavor right to the front. The salted stems soak in cold water for at least 15 minutes to draw out salt, but leave them much longer and the taste of the sea goes too.
Spanish mackerel has white, tender flesh that flakes apart easily once cooked, so this braise never flips the fish. Instead, the pot gets a gentle shake and the sauce is spooned over the top. A gapless bed of radish, thicker slices in the middle, keeps the fish off the pot. The red sauce of soy, gochujang and gochugaru seasons both the mild flesh and the radish, which turns translucent as it cooks.
Hot soy brine sets only the outer surface of the cucumber while the center stays crisp even after several days of chilling. Whole garlic cloves slowly release their aroma into the liquid and hot green chilies leave a faint heat at the end of each bite, giving more depth than plain soy pickles. Because the half-moons are cut a thick 1 cm, they need about two days of chilling before the soy and vinegar reach the middle. The first pour is hot, but when the brine is drained and boiled again to keep the slices crisp for longer, it goes back on only after cooling. Serve it over rice or next to gukbap, a Korean rice and soup dish.
Oiji are cucumbers put down in brine for a month or more in summer, when cucumbers are everywhere, and they come out with a firm, chewy crunch nothing like a fresh one. Straight from the brine they are too salty. The slices soak in cold water for about 30 minutes, though a bite of one slice tells you more than the timer.
Snappy seaweed stems and springy shrimp end up in the same bite. Soup soy sauce is the only seasoning, with the rest of the salt coming from what is left in the stems, and the ground perilla seed is scattered over right after the heat goes off.
Tofu, spinach and shiitake share one covered pan over low heat without any frying, and the soy seasoning stays light and clean. The slices are pressed firmly between paper towels before they reach the pan, since water left in the tofu clouds the liquid and dilutes the seasoning. Shiitake supplies most of the savory depth in an otherwise plain sauce, while the spinach wilts down between the tofu slices. Perilla oil is drizzled on only after the heat is off, which keeps its nutty aroma from cooking away. Just a shallow pool of liquid gathers under the tofu, making this a side dish for chopsticks rather than a soupy one.
The cucumbers are stored whole, split lengthwise into quarters with the red chive filling poking out, and only cut into bite-size pieces at the table. Bite into one and the cucumber juice and the seasoning come out together.
The squid comes out of the boiling water after 2 to 3 minutes, once the flesh turns opaque white and curls a little. Left in a pile, it keeps cooking in its own heat and toughens, which is why the pieces are spread out to cool. The body is cut into rings and served with chogochujang (vinegared chili paste) before it gets too cold.
Pork shoulder is browned until its fat runs, then seaweed stems join it for a quick toss. The roasted taste of the pork mixes with a smell of the sea, and the stems keep their snap.
Jijim uses far less liquid than a stew, so by the end the dried radish greens (siraegi) are coated in a glossy doenjang (Korean soybean paste) sauce with almost no broth left. Stripping the tough outer fibers matters: skipped, the stems stay stringy however long they cook.
Whole cucumbers sit in a hot salt brine and then age, refrigerated, for at least five days, turning into strongly salted pickles meant to be sliced thin and used a little at a time. Only 2 to 3 mm is trimmed from each end, since deeper cuts let brine rush in and soften the flesh. The slices go into side dishes or chilled Korean soups.
Fine, tangled parae hides a lot of sand, and it is washed through five or more changes of water until nothing settles at the bottom of the bowl. Ten seconds in boiling water is all the cooking it gets. The gochujang, vinegar and sugar dressing goes in over two or three additions; pour it all at once and the thin strands clump.
Covered and cooked in a little soy-seasoned water, the radish strands turn translucent and bend easily around a chopstick. Made with winter radish, the dish comes out noticeably sweeter.
Dried radish greens (siraegi) stay chewy through the braise and soak up the gochujang and soy sauce, so here they are as good with rice as the hairtail itself. The greens are tossed with a little doenjang beforehand, which leaves a nutty, savory note under the braise.
Salting firms the squid flesh enough to keep a pleasantly chewy bite after it is coated in the red seasoning. Starch syrup gives the gochugaru paste a gloss and a little sweetness that keeps the salt from standing alone. The squid should be frozen at -20°C or below for at least 24 hours and thawed in the fridge before cleaning, with any visible parasites removed. Hot rice is the usual partner.
Ground perilla seed turns into a thin, nutty coating on each strand of bracken fern. The perilla oil is split in two: half goes into the raw seasoning so the soy and garlic soak into the chewy fibers, and the other half carries the green onion's aroma in the pan.
Stir-fried in perilla oil, julienned radish loses its raw, peppery sharpness and turns gently sweet. It is one of the basic namul, used for bibimbap and set out on Korean ancestral-rite tables.
Oily mackerel and earthy dried radish greens cook down together, the fish fat seeping into the greens while the greens soften the strong flavor of the fish. Radish on the bottom of the pot grows sweeter the longer it braises and takes the edge off both the chili heat and any fishiness. The sauce is left slightly loose, enough to spoon over a bowl of rice.