Well-aged kimchi brings a sharp sourness that plays against the oily white flesh of hairtail, so this fish stew tastes more tangy and spicy than fishy. A five-minute soak in lightly salted water, followed by a rinse, takes much of the strong smell out of the fish.
Three potatoes, cut big, simmer with pork in a gochujang broth. The starch they release as they cook thickens the broth without any stock or added starch. Stir only now and then, just to keep the bottom from catching; more than that and the potatoes break.
The broth is reduced until there is just enough to mix into rice or spoon onto a lettuce wrap. With so little liquid, it is hard to fix once it turns salty, which is why only 80 percent of the doenjang goes in at first and the rest is used to adjust at the end. While the pastes fry for 30 seconds, keep the heat low and keep stirring.
Gangwon style means 300 g of potatoes, which make the broth thick and filling. The oyster mushrooms are torn along the grain and stay chewy even after a long boil. Zucchini, onion and tofu fill out the pot as well.
A local dish of Taean in South Chungcheong: blue crab and aged kimchi in one pot, seasoned with salted shrimp. The broth gets its flavor from the kimchi, and it has to be well-fermented mukeunji. The crabs have the top shell removed and the leg tips trimmed, and the bodies are cut in half before they go in.
A whole blue crab, scrubbed and split, simmers in a doenjang and anchovy broth, and the shell and meat release a briny sweetness that layers onto the earthy paste. Removing the apron and halving the body lets the broth reach the meat inside.
Two tablespoons of gochujang set the base, and half a tablespoon of chili flakes adjusts the heat. Pork shoulder is first cooked with a little of the water, then the seasoning is fried onto it for a minute, which keeps the gochujang from floating separately in the broth. It suits being ladled generously over cold rice.
Half a tablespoon of doenjang goes into the gochujang seasoning, smoothing the sharp edge gochujang has on its own into something more savory. The pastes are fried in the pork fat over low heat for just a minute.
A thick layer of radish, 350 g, lines the bottom of the pot and boils for ten minutes before the mackerel is laid on top. The radish soaks up the fish broth, and it goes over rice together with the little broth that is left.
Canned whelks need almost no prep: drain them and halve the large pieces. The meat is already cooked, and it goes in only after the cabbage and onion are tender, just to heat through for three minutes at most.
The young leaves of the Korean thistle, a plant in the daisy family, are what goes by the name gondeure. No chili here, and only 1.5 tablespoons of doenjang, keeping the bitter, nutty scent of the greens in front. Once the gondeure is in, the heat comes down to a gentle simmer.
Bracken fern tossed with soup soy sauce, garlic, and gochugaru before simmering carries its seasoning right into each stalk, while beef brisket and radish keep the broth fairly clear with a sharp chili edge. The fern turns tender only over a gentle, medium-low simmer.
Made with plump winter oysters, it smells of the sea from the first spoonful. With lots of tofu and a chili-red broth, it sits closer to a hearty, spicy stew for rice than to a clear oyster soup.
The nutty smell of sour kimchi fried in perilla oil meets the briny smell of fresh oysters in one pot. It is a winter stew, made when the kimchi has gone properly sour and the oysters are plump.
A handful of crown daisy goes into the broth once the oysters and tofu are cooked, and the heat goes off as soon as it starts to wilt. The seasoning is soup soy sauce, which keeps the broth from turning dark.
Clams and shrimp give this doenjang stew the smell of the sea. The clams bring salt of their own, so start with a little less paste than usual.
Blue crab, clams, squid and shrimp share one pot that keeps simmering on a low flame at the table. The seafood gets fished out first as it's ready; the tofu and zucchini stay in the red broth a while longer.
Clam juice forms the base, with gochugaru and gochujang turning the pot deep red and spicy. Thick slices of tofu and zucchini soak up the seafood broth all the way through. Served straight from the pot, it stays bubbling until the last spoonful.
With Spam and Vienna sausages piled in by the handful, the salty, meaty side of budae jjigae leads. Well-aged kimchi cuts through the processed meat with its sourness, and a block of instant ramen soaks up the seasoned broth as it cooks.
Mussels go in by the potful here, 900 g of them. Once the water with radish and garlic is boiling, the mussels are tipped in, and when they open and the broth turns milky, the chili flakes and soup soy sauce follow. Any that stay shut at the end get thrown out.
Dried pollock strips toasted briefly in perilla oil give this clear, chili-free stew a nutty base, and napa cabbage softens slowly into it, adding its own sweetness. The pollock only gets a quick dip in water, since a long soak washes out its flavor.
Dried pollack strips, tofu and eggs make up nearly the whole list. The pollack toasts in sesame oil for two or three minutes, until it smells nutty, and only then does the water go in. The broth stays clear, but that toasting keeps it from tasting thin. Beaten egg poured into the boiling broth spreads into fine threads.
Freshwater eel is cut into 3 to 4 cm pieces, bones and all, and simmered in a gochujang broth. With the bones still in, the liquid comes out rich, and ground perilla seed stirred in just before the heat goes off thickens it. In Korea it turns up on the table around boknal, the hottest days of summer.
Jjageuli is not supposed to leave much broth behind. Gochujang seasoning is fried in rendered pork fat, thick-cut potatoes go in, and as they simmer they slump and crumble until only a shallow, thick sauce is left in the pot. It sits closer to a rice topping than a soup.