636 recipes. Page 6 of 27
Everyday Korean side dish recipes
Flounder fillets are brushed with soy sauce mixed with yuja-cheong, a Korean citron marmalade, so the salty glaze carries a bright citrus note. The fillets are thin and break easily; turn them once, in one go, with a wide spatula. If your yuja-cheong is very sweet, add a little more soy.
Matchstick-thin strands of potato, not grated pulp, give this pancake an open lattice that crisps at every strand instead of the chewy pull of grated gamja-jeon. Not a drop of water is added: potato starch dissolves into the potato's own moisture and glues the strands together.
The cartilage near the wing joints softens the longer it braises, which changes the chew when you tear the meat off the bone. The wings reduce uncovered and get turned two or three times so the glaze works into the joints. Eaten with the fingers, they often end up next to beer or soju.
Bo-kimchi wraps a filling of julienned radish, Korean pear, chestnuts, and blanched octopus in brined napa cabbage leaves, then ferments the bundles. After brining, check that the thick cabbage stems bend without snapping, and drain the rinsed leaves well, because wet leaves leave a watery pool inside each parcel. Overlap two large leaves so the filling is enclosed without gaps, and pack the bundles seam side down so they stay closed while they ferment. Blanch the octopus only briefly, since longer cooking makes it tough.
Slicing cooked octopus thin and wide with the knife laid at a low angle shortens its tough fibers, so each piece chews easily. Cho-gochujang, gochujang sharpened with vinegar and sugar, coats it in a sour heat, while minari (Korean water dropwort) adds a fresh, herbal aroma and cucumber and onion bring crunch.
Pollock innards are salted for 30 minutes, then mixed with gochugaru, garlic, ginger and fish sauce and left in the fridge for at least three days to become jeotgal, a Korean salted relish. Most of the work is in the first wash: the innards are rubbed in cold water again and again until the rinse water runs clearer and the surface is less slick.
The tofu is pan-fried in perilla oil until golden before anything else, so it keeps its shape when it is tossed with the broccoli in the doenjang sauce.
Shrimp and squid are brushed with a thin layer of doenjang sauce and grilled. There is only half a tablespoon of gochujang in it, so it tastes more savory than hot. You know it is done by smell: once the sauce turns deep brown and smells toasty, it comes off the heat, and a little longer brings a burnt note.
Grated raw potato is squeezed, and the liquid sits for at least 10 minutes until white starch settles at the bottom; that sediment goes back into the pulp to make the batter. Spread as thin as possible, the edges shatter like glass while the middle stays chewy. The dipping sauce is soy sauce with vinegar and minced cheongyang chili.
Braised a long time with bone-in chicken, the radish turns brown from all the chicken stock and chili sauce it takes in. The potatoes crumble at the edges and thicken the sauce.
Crisp stems and tender florets sit side by side in this soy pickle, a contrast that depends on keeping the blanch to 40 seconds and moving the broccoli straight into ice water. Unlike many hot-brine pickles, this one waits until the brine is completely cool, because warm liquid softens the florets. Red bell pepper and onion add sweetness and a flash of red against the green. The crunch is best in the first two days, while the seasoning reaches all the way through after 3 to 4 days. It packs easily into a lunch box and keeps for up to 2 weeks in the fridge.
Doenjang, Korean fermented soybean paste, carries this cucumber side dish, with only half a tablespoon of chili flakes, and it tastes gentler than the red, spicy oi-muchim. The cucumbers are cut fairly thick and salted only briefly to stay cold, juicy and crisp under a thin coat of paste.
Store-bought changnanjeot, salted pollock innards, sits in a fine sieve for a minute or two while its thick brine drips away, then gets a fresh dressing of gochugaru, garlic, scallion and sesame oil. Pressing it in the sieve would dry the pieces out, so it is left alone. Covered and chilled for at least 10 minutes, it goes out in small portions.
The bell pepper is cut to roughly the size of the shrimp, so shrimp, broccoli and pepper land evenly in each bite. Seasoning is a tablespoon each of soy and oyster sauce, with five sliced garlic cloves fried in the oil first.
The hwangtae, a Korean dried pollack, is not soaked; it is only dampened front and back with wet hands, which keeps it chewy rather than soggy once grilled. The gochujang glaze goes on in several thin layers over low heat, and it is done when the surface turns sticky and glossy.
In the Gangwon mountain style, onion is grated right along with the potatoes and finely chopped cheongyang chili goes straight into the batter. Makgeolli is the traditional pairing.
Drumettes, potato and onion all go into the pot raw with the gochujang sauce and braise under a lid, with no searing or frying beforehand. As they cook, the meat around the bone turns firm and chewy and holds on to the thickening sauce. With a little extra time, browning the drumettes in a pan first deepens the color and flavor.
Garlic chives are tossed straight into a paste of gochugaru, anchovy fish sauce, garlic and sugar with no salting and no fermentation, making this one of the fastest kimchi styles. The fish sauce supplies the briny depth that aged kimchi would build over days, and the chives' garlicky bite pushes the red pepper heat forward. Letting the chili flakes absorb the fish sauce for a couple of minutes before adding the chives avoids dry, patchy spots. Cutting the chives to 5 cm lets the paste reach inside the hollow stems and out to the leaf tips. Because pressing or kneading wilts them fast, the chives are lifted gently from below and left alone once the stems are coated red but still springy. It can be served right away, and after a night in the refrigerator the seasoning spreads evenly and the flavor mellows slightly, which suits grilled pork or noodles.
Sliced paper-thin on the bias, about 0.1cm, the cucumber takes on the dressing quickly and turns tender while keeping its crunch. Vinegar brightens the cucumber's cool, watery freshness, and the chili heat follows quietly behind. It shows up constantly on Korean summer tables, on its own with rice or piled onto naengmyeon and bibimbap. It is mixed close to mealtime, since after about 30 minutes the cucumber starts weeping water and goes limp.
Cheonggak, a branching green seaweed, gets just ten seconds in boiling water: enough to turn it a deep green while keeping its crunchy, almost cartilage-like bite. It's dressed with plenty of vinegar and eaten right away.
The liquor the hard clams release as they open is the base of the sauce here; no stock goes in. A little soy and oyster sauce is added, and the chives are cooked only until they wilt, so they are still bright green on the plate.
Before cooking, Atka mackerel gets wiped down with water that has a little vinegar in it. Salt and pepper are its only seasoning, and after the flip the thickest part sits under a lid for a minute to cook through. Half a lemon goes on the plate, and it is served hot.
Mild green chilies split lengthwise are stuffed with ground pork, pressed tofu and garlic and fried filling side down, which browns the meat while the pepper keeps its fresh, gentle heat. Fill each half only about seventy percent of the way, because the filling swells as it cooks and an overstuffed pepper splits open.
There is no chili in this braise, just soy sauce, sugar and garlic, and the juices from the boneless thighs soak into the potato and carrot so nothing else needs seasoning. If the fat feels like too much, trim off some of the chicken skin before cooking.