189 recipes. Page 2 of 8
Hearty steamed and braised dish recipes
Fat from the thin brisket slices melts down into the bean sprouts underneath, so even a bite of sprouts alone tastes rich. The dressing is light: soy sauce with garlic, a little sugar and sesame oil.
With no seasoning beyond salted steaming water, snow crab tastes only of itself, which also means mistakes have nowhere to hide. Crab set over weak steam turns soft and watery, while crab left too long goes tough.
The cod is patted thoroughly dry first so the sauce clings instead of sliding off. It cooks covered on a bed of radish and onion and gets turned just once, gently, at the end so the underside picks up the sauce too.
Cod is lean and mild, so it gets a punchy sauce of soy, gochujang and chili flakes. The radish under it soaks that sauce up and ends up as good as the fish.
The wingettes brown in a dry pan, skin side first, before the soy sauce mixture goes in to reduce. By the time the sauce is nearly gone, the meat pulls easily off the bone.
Chicken thighs go straight into the soy braising liquid without browning, so the seasoning works between the fibers and the meat ends up glossy brown and seasoned through. Big chunks of potato soften at the edges and drink up the sauce, turning fluffy and starchy.
Bone-in chicken, chunky potato, carrot and onion braise in soy sauce and sugar, with no glass noodles. The glossy sauce forms only in the last few minutes, after the potatoes are tender and the lid comes off. Uncover too early and the liquid runs out before the potatoes cook; keep it covered to the end and the sauce stays thin.
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.
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.
Long cooking turns the skin and cartilage of chicken feet chewy and sticky, and that texture is the whole reason to eat them. Once the red sauce coats them in a glossy layer, they go out with rice or a cold beer. Adjust the heat with the amount of chili flakes.
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.
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.
Short ribs braise in a soy broth sweetened with Korean pear juice, which softens the meat and leaves a faint fruit sweetness through to the end. The dish takes the galbi jjim served at Korean holidays and birthdays and adds kabocha, which softens only at the edges and thickens the sauce naturally.
Glossy braised kelp should have a springy, almost jelly-like bite that snaps cleanly. That spring is decided at the soaking stage: take the kelp out when it bends easily rather than by the clock, because kelp left too long in the water goes soft.
Deodeok, a mountain root with a bitter, faintly resinous aroma, mellows as the soy and rice syrup glaze soaks in, though the inside stays firm and chewy. The roots are lightly pounded and then torn by hand, and those rough surfaces take on a lacquered coat of sauce.
The back ribs soak in cold water for an hour and get a ten-minute parboil before they are braised. Without that, the soy glaze would not cling and the liquid would not taste clean. In a sauce with pear juice, about forty minutes is enough for the meat to start lifting from the bone.
Half the pleasure is digging out the meat lodged between the vertebrae and cartilage, which after an hour's simmer comes away with no effort. The broth is seasoned with a spoonful of doenjang plus chili flakes and soy sauce. It works as a companion to soju or as a meal, with the broth spooned over rice.
The tofu is cut into thick slices and pan-fried golden before it goes into the doenjang broth. That browned surface lets it take constant ladlings of sauce without falling apart, and it turns a deeper brown as the doenjang soaks in.
Long simmering turns the cartilage and tendons of beef knee translucent and soft, and the broth becomes rich enough to set like aspic once it cools. A hard boil clouds the broth, so most of the craft lies in holding the pot at a gentle bubble. In Korea it is mostly a winter dish.
Knee cartilage and tendon should come out chewy and springy. Cooked too long, they slump and start to melt. Slices about 0.7cm thick sit on blanched garlic chives with a ladle of warm broth poured around them, so it eats like a moist meat platter rather than a soup.
The name comes from dombae, the Jeju word for cutting board, after the habit of slicing the boiled pork and serving it right on the board. Skin-on pork belly simmers gently in water seasoned with doenjang until the rind turns translucent and bouncy and the fat layers go soft enough to melt.
The sea bream is steamed whole and goes to the table that way, which is why the dish turns up at holiday meals and when guests come. Soy sauce never touches the fish before steaming; it is heated, mixed with the juices that collect on the plate, and spooned over at the end.
This cold-weather braise calls for frozen pollock on purpose, not fresh. Freezing and thawing firms up the flesh and leaves it slightly spongy, and the pieces hold together through a long simmer in the spicy broth.
The oyster mushrooms are torn by hand into thick strips along the grain, and they stay chewy even after the braise. The sauce starts from plain water rather than stock; the mushrooms give it all the savoriness it needs.