Boiled radish greens and blanched loach simmer in anchovy stock seasoned with doenjang and gochujang, and three tablespoons of perilla seed powder at the end thicken it to something close to porridge. More radish greens push it toward bitter and chewy; more perilla powder makes it nuttier.
Chwinamul, a fragrant Korean wild green, keeps its aroma sharp above the earthy doenjang broth. It only needs 3 to 4 minutes; beyond that, the scent that gives the stew its point fades.
Tang usually signals soup, but there is little broth here: it cooks down until the red sauce clings, glossy, to the chicken and potatoes. The big potato chunks, still holding their shape, get spooned onto rice along with the sauce.
It also goes by dak bokkeumtang, and although the name ends in tang, meaning soup, it is reduced for about 25 minutes until the sauce clings to the chicken. The chicken pieces are blanched for three minutes and rinsed of bone fragments before they go into the pot. Sugar in the sauce makes the sweetness as clear as the heat.
In early spring, February to April, when wild chives are around, a handful goes on top of this clam and gochujang stew. Their sharp scent takes the edge off any fishiness from the clams.
The wild chives keep their bulbs: only the papery skin is peeled off, and they are cut, roots and all, into 4 cm pieces. The bulb end is where the scent is strongest. They go into the doenjang broth after the heat is turned down, and the burner is off within a minute.
The deodeok root is peeled, tapped lightly to open the grain, then sliced on the diagonal about 5 mm thick; cut thinner, it loses its scent. The broth is rice-rinsing water with a tablespoon of gochujang and half a tablespoon of doenjang stirred in.
Pork shoulder is marinated in gochujang, stir-fried with onion and simmered in rice-rinsing water for ten minutes before the deodeok and oyster mushrooms go in, because the root's aroma fades the longer it boils. Leftovers thicken overnight; add a splash of water or rice water when reheating.
Ground perilla seed and the starch from potatoes thicken this stew on their own, leaving a broth that coats a spoon with no extra thickener. Dumping all the perilla powder at once is the usual mistake, since it clumps and scorches on the bottom. Stirring it in a little at a time avoids both.
Blanched radish greens, rather than dried siraegi, sit in a broth made thick and nutty with four tablespoons of perilla seed powder. The shrimp are added well after the greens, which need about ten minutes to soften; shrimp left in that long turn firm instead of springy.
The pork back ribs simmer on their own for 25 minutes, until the meat pulls easily off the bone, before the potatoes and seasoning go in. The perilla leaves are laid on top in large pieces at the very end; cooked too long, they turn astringent instead of fragrant.
With no meat or seafood, the broth depends almost entirely on the doenjang itself. Every brand is salted differently, so the paste goes in a little at a time, tasting as you go.
Wait until the clams are cooked to check the seasoning. As they open they release briny liquid into the broth, and a broth salted to taste with doenjang alone can end up too salty. Throw out any clams that stay shut.
This stew starts from plain water instead of stock: donggeurang-ttaeng, small pan-fried patties of meat, tofu, and vegetables, already carry enough seasoning to flavor the pot. Frozen patties work fine as long as they lie in a single layer under the broth and heat right through to the middle.
A tablespoon of doenjang is stirred into the red chili broth to tame the fishiness. The frozen pollock is thawed only partly, just enough for a knife to get through the bone, and cut while still firm; fully thawed, the flesh crumbles.
Tofu, kimchi, chili flakes, green onion and anchovy stock: that is the whole list, so the broth tastes mostly of however sour the kimchi has become.
The tough, bark-like base of each dureup (aralia shoot) is trimmed off, and thick stems are split lengthwise or scored with a cross at the bottom. That way three or four minutes in the pot cooks them through while they stay crisp. Gochujang goes in at a third of the amount of doenjang, just enough for a low heat.
As the clams open they release their briny liquor into the rice-water doenjang broth, and the zucchini stew tastes cleaner and brighter for it. Give the clams about an hour to purge their sand.
Plenty of eolgari, young napa cabbage, goes in, and as it wilts its sweetness softens the doenjang. A good amount of tofu keeps the salt in check too.
No doenjang or gochujang here; salted shrimp does the seasoning. Its saltiness varies by jar, which is why only one tablespoon goes in at first and the remaining half is added at the end to taste. The base is rice-rinsing water with potato boiled in it for eight minutes, and chili flakes and cheongyang pepper turn it red and sharp.
The soft tofu slowly comes apart in the broth until the whole pot is silky, with crisp bits of young cabbage stem in between. Only a touch of gochujang goes into the doenjang, so it tastes savory more than spicy.
There is no meat, just eggplant, tofu and perilla seed powder, but the broth is anchovy-kelp stock; for a vegetarian pot, change the stock first. The eggplant simmers for about six minutes until soft enough to collapse, while the tofu, cut small at 1.5 cm, stays firm.
Eggplant cut into wide bias slices drinks up the gochujang broth and releases a mouthful of spicy liquid with each bite. The chili paste and flakes need only about 30 seconds over low heat and scorch if left longer.
Boiled bracken goes in first and the hairtail pieces are laid over it without overlapping. The fish is never turned; spooning broth over it keeps the flesh from breaking. Only a shallow layer of broth is left at the end.