Cheonggukjang smells far stronger than doenjang, and once it is stirred into the stock its earthy, heavy aroma takes over the whole pot. Leaving the soup covered off the heat for a few minutes before serving softens that smell noticeably.
Sour kimchi, first fried in sesame oil, flavors the chicken stock, and miso with soy sauce lays a savory, salty layer on top. Frying the kimchi softens its sharp tang so it sits comfortably beside the miso.
Bok choy turns up more often in Chinese cooking, yet it suits doenjang soup well. It sits in supermarkets all year, which makes it a handy replacement when there is no napa cabbage, and zucchini and tofu fill out the bowl alongside it.
Simmering kimchi dumplings in anchovy-kelp stock lets the kimchi and pork filling season the broth with little help from anything else. Once the dumplings float they are cooked; boiling longer splits the wrappers. A thin swirl of beaten egg softens the soup, and the somen sits in the bowl with broth poured over rather than being cooked in the pot. It makes a quick, warming bowl for a cold day.
Mung bean jelly, set from mung bean starch, slips off chopsticks and gives a slight bounce when bitten. Here it is cut into thick strips and simmered for just three minutes in clear beef brisket broth, then topped with threads of egg and crumbled laver.
Juice from well-fermented kimchi, stretched with water and balanced with sugar and vinegar, becomes a chilled sweet-sour broth for thin somen. Since nearly all the flavor comes from the kimchi, young kimchi leaves the broth flat and short on tang. Chopped kimchi and cucumber strips on top add crunch to a light summer bowl.
In the American South this is everyday home cooking: chicken stew with soft dumplings on top. The batter is spooned onto the broth and puffs up in the steam under the lid, so the dumplings come out light, closer to biscuit than to noodle. The thigh meat is pulled into shreds, so a spoonful gets chicken and dumpling together.
Tofu, shiitake and thick udon all cook in one pot of kimchi broth that goes to the table as is, nabe style. Frying the sour kimchi in sesame oil first takes off its raw sharpness and leaves the anchovy-kelp broth spicy yet rounded. Tofu pressed dry with a paper towel keeps the broth from clouding, and it simmers while broth is spooned over it, since stirring hard breaks it apart. Only half the soup soy sauce is added early because kimchi varies in saltiness, and the rest is added bit by bit once the noodles are in. Once the udon has soaked up the soup it is ready, and any broth left in the pot can take a scoop of rice to finish.
The chicken breast is pulled into long shreds, so it hangs off the spoon together with the egg noodles. If you plan on leftovers, lift the noodles out and store them separately; otherwise by the next day they will have soaked up the broth.
Sweet-savory simmered tofu pockets sit on a clear dashi broth and slowly release their syrup, and the soup grows a little sweeter as you eat. The broth starts out lightly seasoned to leave room for that sweetness and should not taste salty before the tofu goes on. Simmer the tofu until a little liquid remains and it stays moist, and making it a day ahead lets the flavor sink in further. Scallions and shichimi pepper add fragrance and a touch of heat.
In Okinawa this miso soup with pork liver is made on days when someone is worn out or under the weather. Chimu means pork liver and shinji a decocted broth; dishes like this are called kusuimun, though it is home food, not medicine.
A sheet of sweet, soy-simmered fried tofu sits on top of the bowl, and every bite squeezes its braising liquid out into the broth. That broth is a clear dashi made from kombu and bonito flakes, pale in color but full in flavor, in the Kansai style associated with Osaka. Reducing the tofu until its simmering liquid is nearly gone puts the sweetness inside the tofu rather than leaving it in the pot. It tastes best once it has soaked in the hot soup for a moment and gone soft. In Osaka this is everyday food, eaten as an early breakfast as readily as at lunch.
With its thick, reddish broth, chobo-jiru looks at first like sweet red bean soup, yet one spoonful says otherwise: miso and bonito flakes make it fully savory. On Awaji Island in Hyogo, families have cooked big pots of it since the Edo period to celebrate a birth or a child's first shrine visit, sharing bowls with relatives and neighbors. The small sticky-rice dumplings were sometimes shaped round, pointed or dimpled as wishes for the child.
Laksa paste fried until dark, then loosened with shrimp stock and coconut milk, gives this Singapore and Malaysia noodle soup its spicy, creamy broth. Full-fat coconut milk matters, since its fat sets the body of the soup; light versions come out thin. Hard boiling can split the coconut milk, so it simmers gently with the bottom stirred. Rice vermicelli, shrimp, fried tofu, bean sprouts, boiled egg and lime fill each bowl.
The water the chicken was poached in is chilled right through, sharpened with vinegar and hot mustard, and poured over shredded breast meat and julienned cucumber. Lukewarm, the mustard and the vinegar both go flat, so keep it in the fridge until the moment you serve it.
Laksa paste fried in oil until it bleeds red does most of the work, and coconut milk and chicken stock turn it into a spicy, creamy broth. Fried tofu puffs act like sponges, soaking up that broth so they burst when bitten, while the shrimp spend just 3 minutes in the pot and stay plump. This style of curry noodle soup is everyday food in Singapore and Malaysia. Coconut milk turns thick and heavy as it cools, so the bowls go to the table as soon as the broth is poured.
Takasaki zakuni looks like kenchin-jiru, but the vegetables are never fried; soaked dried squid and its soaking liquid supply the savory depth instead. In Gunma it appears at New Year, Setsubun, Ebisu-ko, and household festivals, and one story says oil was left out of wedding versions so the couple would not separate like oil and water.
Beef shank simmered for 2 hours with star anise, cinnamon and ginger yields a clear broth with a gentle spice aroma. The dish comes from Lanzhou in Gansu province, where the noodles are hand-pulled; store-bought Chinese wheat noodles stand in for them. Keeping the pot at a quiet simmer the whole time decides whether the broth stays clear. Daikon, sliced beef, cilantro and chili oil finish each bowl.
Whole loach are boiled, ground fine and pushed through a sieve to leave the bones and skin behind, and that broth simmers with siraegi (dried radish greens) until perilla seed powder thickens it. A pinch of sansho pepper at the table leaves a light tingle on the tongue.
Maesaengi, a seaweed as fine as hair, and plump fresh oysters give this knife-cut noodle soup a deep taste of the sea. Because the noodles cook first and the seafood is added only at the end, the oysters stay plump and the seaweed keeps its bright green color.
The stew is credited to San Francisco wharf fishermen who pooled their leftover seafood in one pot. The tomato and white wine broth simmers on its own first; mussels, white fish and shrimp follow at the end, one after another, for a short cook. Any mussels still shut after cooking are picked out before serving.
Thick, wavy noodles sit under a heap of stir-fried ground pork, cabbage and bean sprouts, finished Sapporo-style with corn and a pat of butter melting into the miso broth. The miso goes in once the broth has stopped boiling hard, and it is not brought back to a rolling boil afterward.
A white, milk-based chowder with small cubes of potato and pieces of clam in every spoonful. Celery, softened with the onion, adds a faint bitterness that keeps the milk from being the only thing you taste.
Mohinga, often called Myanmar's national dish, builds its soup from the water the fish was poached in, then returns the flaked fish to the pot so every spoonful carries it. Chickpea flour stirred in as a slurry gives the broth a heavier, almost porridge-like body that sets it apart from clear noodle soups, and turmeric tints it a soft gold. The flour has to be fully dissolved in cold water and added a little at a time, which avoids lumps and lets the cook stop at the thickness they want. Onion and garlic simmer in the stock long enough to scent it before the seasoning is added, and the rice noodles are rinsed separately before the soup is ladled over. Crisp chickpea fritters, boiled egg, cilantro, and a squeeze of lime finish each bowl with crunch and acidity.