124 recipes. Page 3 of 6
Traditional drinks and bar snack recipes
Whole cinnamon bark simmered slowly on low heat gives a heavier cup than a quick steep, with a peppery warmth that stays behind the sweetness. The jujubes are split in half before they go in, and as they soften they give the tea a little body.
Soaking the dried tangerine peel for two minutes in the very water that will become the tea tames its harshness without throwing any of that water away. Bitter-bright citrus and ginger heat arrive together in the amber cup, and honey and rice syrup sweeten it in two registers, one clean and floral, the other thick and malty.
Of the two Jeju hallabong, one is peeled down to bare segments and the other is juiced. Sugar and lemon juice are dissolved into the juice for the syrup, and a few segments pressed lightly in each glass release bursts of juice as you drink.
Raw, the fruit of the oriental raisin tree is small, knobbly, astringent and rather flat. Twenty-five minutes over low heat with jujubes, ginger and a cinnamon stick turns the water deep brown and gives it an earthy, faintly sweet aroma. The pot then rests, covered and off the heat, for five minutes before straining.
Roasted black sesame, ground fine and warmed in milk, gives a nutty, coffee-free latte whose texture depends on the grind. The blender runs only in short bursts, because a long run makes the seeds release oil and clump.
Seventy grams of cooked, cooled black rice turns this smoothie a deep purple. It is blended thick with coconut milk, banana and date syrup, then topped with toasted coconut chips.
Black rice soaked for an hour and cooked until the grains collapse blends with milk into a latte that goes down smoothly despite being made from grain. Any hard centers left in the rice stay gritty however long the blender runs. For a cold glass, chilled milk takes the place of ice so the drink does not thin out.
Persimmons gone soft as jelly blend into something closer to jam than juice. An astringent variety that is not fully ripe leaves a dry, puckering feel in the mouth, and only completely soft fruit goes in.
All the fruit is cut to 1.5 to 2cm so a single spoonful holds crisp apple, crisp pear and green grapes that pop when bitten. The honey is dissolved completely in cold water first, and the sparkling water goes in just before eating. Other seasonal fruit can stand in.
The brown rice goes into a dry pan unwashed, which lets the bran give off a strong toasty aroma as it roasts. About eight minutes over low heat is enough; stop at pale brown, because dark brown brings bitterness.
The roasted soybean powder that coats injeolmi rice cakes dissolves into milk for a nutty dessert drink. Roasting matters: raw soybean powder has a sharp, grassy smell, while roasted powder tastes like toasted grain.
Thinly sliced fresh ginseng simmers on the lowest heat with jujubes and ginger for close to twenty minutes. The ginger is there to soften the ginseng's aroma and is never left out; if it comes through too strongly, a splash of hot water goes into the finished tea.
Sword beans are three or four times the size of ordinary beans, and roasted ones give this tea a heavy, grainy aroma. Once used, the beans can be brewed a second time.
Grapefruit preserves live or die by the white pith. Even a little of it makes the jar harshly bitter, and the tough membranes come off too until only flesh and juice go into the sugar. After a day or more the sugar melts into a thick syrup, which is stirred into hot water by the cup. Mixed with sparkling water instead, it becomes a cold ade.
Job's tears need two hours of soaking and enough boiling to crush easily between the fingers. Undercooked grains leave grit that no amount of blending removes. Pine nuts, rich in oil, emulsify with the milk as they blend and give the shake its heavy, creamy body.
Jehotang is said to have been made by the Joseon court's medical office to see the king through the summer heat. Cinnamon, ginger and licorice root are simmered, then mixed with plum syrup and honey and served cold, so the sweet-tart taste comes with a quiet herbal note behind it. Plum syrups vary a lot in sweetness, so adjust the water and honey by taste.
Two kiwis are mashed roughly with a spoon so small bits of fruit stay in the drink, and the third is cut into thin rounds pressed against the inside of the glass. The mint gets only a press or two; crushed until the leaves tear, it turns bitter.
Soaked white soybeans, boiled briefly and blended with toasted sesame and pine nuts, turn into a thick, cream-colored drink that tastes of the bean itself. Most of the work is rubbing off the skins after soaking: skins left behind bring both a raw beany taste and a gritty texture. Salt and honey stay in the background. Serve it over ice, or pour it over plain cooked noodles as a chilled broth.
Korean pear is full of water and barely acidic; blended with cold water and strained, it makes a pale, mild juice. Pressing the pulp hard in the strainer clouds it, and the spoon is used only lightly. A little lemon and ginger juice leave a faint ginger bite at the end, and a sweet enough pear needs no honey.
Thin lemon slices are tucked between the ice, then fresh lemon juice, simple syrup and a tiny pinch of salt go into the glass before the sparkling water. The sparkling water comes last and is barely stirred.
Only dried plum blossoms processed and sold as an edible tea will do; foraged or ornamental flowers are no substitute, rinsed or not. Jujubes simmer first for five minutes, and the blossoms steep in that water once the heat is off. If the package gives its own steeping temperature and time, follow it over this recipe's two minutes.
Dried liriope root gives a faintly bitter, herbal tea, and shredded pear in the pot takes the edge off that bitterness while adding a natural sweetness. For the full twenty minutes the water should only tremble. A batch kept in the fridge still smells good when reheated.
Six tablespoons of plum syrup are poured through the ice to pool at the bottom, lemon juice goes in on top, and cold sparkling water runs down the side of the glass. The result shades from dark at the bottom to pale at the top. A long spoon lifts from the bottom once or twice, no more.
It is only plum syrup stirred into water, but boiling water dulls the plum aroma, so the water is left to cool a little first. Over ice with a few mint leaves it is a summer drink; without the ice it makes a warm cup on a cold day.