189 recipes. Page 7 of 8
Hearty steamed and braised dish recipes
Duck releases a steady stream of fat as it steams, so skimming the surface every 10 minutes during the 30-minute cook leaves a clean sauce rather than a greasy one. Garlic chives are laid on top only at the end and wilt just enough to stay pungent, cutting through the richness of the meat.
Ground perilla seeds (deulkkae-garu) thicken the soy braising liquid into a creamy, nutty sauce, a world away from the red, spicy versions of Korean braised tofu. Searing the tofu on both sides first firms the surface so the sauce coats it thickly and the slices hold their shape. Green onion and a few drops of sesame oil at the very end lift the earthy perilla flavor. Perilla powder is sold at Korean grocers and is not the same thing as sesame.
Layered with well-aged kimchi and left to simmer a long time, the kimchi goes soft right down to the stems and the pork shoulder, streaked with fat, pulls apart with chopsticks.
Served cold and thinly sliced, pyeonyuk has a firmer, cleaner bite than warm boiled pork. Pork shank simmers with ginger, garlic, and whole peppercorns to take away any gamey smell, then gets rolled tightly in plastic wrap while still warm and chilled for at least 2 hours so it holds a neat shape. Slices are dipped in salted fermented shrimp, a classic starter for holiday tables and guests.
Searing king oyster mushrooms until browned before adding any sauce gives this banchan two textures: a chewy, golden cut face and a juicy center. Spread in a single layer, they lose the water they release, which would otherwise thin the glaze and keep it from turning glossy. Mix the sauce beforehand and keep it beside the pan so it can be poured straight in before the mushrooms scorch. The soy and oligosaccharide syrup glaze cooks only briefly, and the heat goes off before it turns too strong, letting residual heat bring up the shine. Finished with green onion and sesame oil, it is best warm and keeps well as a make-ahead side.
Pan-fried tofu and thick-cut king oyster mushrooms share the same spicy soy and gochujang sauce but feel completely different to bite: one soft, the other springy. Browning the tofu slowly over low heat until the edges firm up gives the sauce a surface to cling to.
King oyster mushrooms soak up the soy broth and turn light brown, giving this quail egg braise a meaty chew alongside the soft eggs. The mushrooms braise first until they wilt and soak up plenty of seasoning, while the eggs join later and never simmer long enough to toughen. Mushrooms sliced at least 1 cm thick hold on to that chew. With no chili at all, just garlic and black pepper, it stays mild, and a spoonful of syrup at the end adds shine and rounds off the saltiness. Stored in the fridge with its remaining broth, both mushrooms and eggs stay moist, which makes it an easy side to portion into packed lunches.
The shrimp steam on a bed of onion, green onion, and garlic, and the rising vapor carries those aromas in between the shells. Apart from a splash of rice wine and a squeeze of lemon there is no seasoning, which puts the shrimp's own sweetness at the center. The steaming stops within 8-9 minutes, before overcooking can shrink the flesh and make it stiff.
Store-bought boneless jokbal, Korean braised pig's trotters that are already cooked, gets a second short simmer in a soy, sugar, and ginger glaze, turning it into a warm, glossy dish in well under an hour. As it cools, the gelatin-rich skin sets with the glaze into a pleasantly chewy texture, which makes leftovers worth eating cold.
Thick slices of Korean radish line the pot and soak up the soy broth, while the Spanish mackerel rests on top, never touching the bottom, so its soft flesh keeps its shape. A short rest in rice wine before cooking tones down the fishy smell, and the seasoning stays light with just soy sauce and garlic. Cheongyang chili added at the end gives the mild broth a clean, spicy finish, and the radish is as much a part of the meal as the fish.
Spanish mackerel has white, tender flesh that flakes apart easily once cooked, so this braise never flips the fish. Instead, the pot gets a gentle shake and the sauce is spooned over the top. A gapless bed of radish, thicker slices in the middle, keeps the fish off the pot. The red sauce of soy, gochujang and gochugaru seasons both the mild flesh and the radish, which turns translucent as it cooks.
Pork belly and big chunks of radish braise together in soy sauce, and by the end the radish has absorbed as much of the rich, salty liquid as the meat. The belly is blanched briefly and rinsed first; skip that and the surface impurities and porky smell end up in the sauce. The radish is cut large because small pieces fall apart over the long simmer. Covered at first and then uncovered, the pot moves from gentle braising to reducing, which leaves the pork and radish coated in a glossy soy glaze rather than sitting in thin broth. It holds up well when made ahead, because cooling and rewarming drive the seasoning in further.
Beef shank carries a lot of connective tissue that stays tough after a quick cook but lets the meat pull apart along the grain after a long, low simmer. As the braise cools, gelatin from the shank sets the sauce, and warming it again melts it back into a glossy, slightly thick glaze.
Tofu, spinach and shiitake share one covered pan over low heat without any frying, and the soy seasoning stays light and clean. The slices are pressed firmly between paper towels before they reach the pan, since water left in the tofu clouds the liquid and dilutes the seasoning. Shiitake supplies most of the savory depth in an otherwise plain sauce, while the spinach wilts down between the tofu slices. Perilla oil is drizzled on only after the heat is off, which keeps its nutty aroma from cooking away. Just a shallow pool of liquid gathers under the tofu, making this a side dish for chopsticks rather than a soupy one.
Jijim uses far less liquid than a stew, so by the end the dried radish greens (siraegi) are coated in a glossy doenjang (Korean soybean paste) sauce with almost no broth left. Stripping the tough outer fibers matters: skipped, the stems stay stringy however long they cook.
Dried radish greens (siraegi) stay chewy through the braise and soak up the gochujang and soy sauce, so here they are as good with rice as the hairtail itself. The greens are tossed with a little doenjang beforehand, which leaves a nutty, savory note under the braise.
Oily mackerel and earthy dried radish greens cook down together, the fish fat seeping into the greens while the greens soften the strong flavor of the fish. Radish on the bottom of the pot grows sweeter the longer it braises and takes the edge off both the chili heat and any fishiness. The sauce is left slightly loose, enough to spoon over a bowl of rice.
Doenjang and ground perilla seeds turn dried radish greens into a soft, nutty side dish with just enough broth left to spoon up. Peeling off the stringy outer skin of the stems matters more than cooking time; left on, it stays tough however long the pot simmers.
Seasoned radish greens (siraegi) go into hot perilla oil before any liquid, which toasts the doenjang and carries its savory smell into the plain water added afterward. Soup soy sauce (guk-ganjang, a lighter, saltier Korean soy) backs up the seasoning. Splitting the thick stems lengthwise lets them soften at the same pace as the leafy parts, and the slow, low simmer turns tough stems pliable. It finishes with just a shallow pool of liquid in the pot, good for mixing into rice.
Because the eye of round is boiled first and its strained stock becomes the braising base, the soy glaze carries a meaty depth rather than just salt and sugar. Quail eggs simmer in the same liquid and turn brown from the outside in, then keep absorbing seasoning as everything cools. Once fully cold, the braising liquid firms up into a thin coating around the beef and eggs, and a night in the fridge drives the seasoning deeper. If it tastes too salty, 2-3 tablespoons of water and a brief return to the boil bring it back in line. The beef is torn into long shreds along the grain, the classic jangjorim texture for spooning over rice from a container in the fridge.
Twelve whole garlic cloves braise alongside the beef until their raw bite disappears and they turn soft and mellow. Shiitake mushrooms take on the soy glaze and a glossy sheen, and they add an earthy aroma to the beef stock that plain jangjorim, Korean soy-braised beef, does not have. An overnight rest in the fridge lets the seasoning soak all the way in, and the flavor is noticeably darker the next day.
In this braise the radish matters as much as the beef: thick rounds go into a soy broth that has already simmered with brisket and drink up its meaty flavor as they turn translucent at the edges. Trimming the sharp corners of each piece keeps them whole through the long, low braise. Serve the radish with a spoonful of the salty-sweet liquid over rice.
Beef head meat spends at least three hours in cold water and gets a short first boil that is thrown away before the real simmer in fresh water with scallion, garlic, ginger, peppercorns and soju. Because skin and lean meat are layered together, slicing while hot makes them slide apart. Let it cool until you can hold it firmly, then cut thin, even slices for the platter.
Chicken wings have plenty of skin, and in the final reduction the soy and sugar liquid clings to it in a thin, shiny lacquer. The wings first cook covered so the meat turns tender in the broth, and only then does the lid come off to boil the sauce down around them. Shallow cuts in the thick parts let the seasoning reach past the surface, and a teaspoon of sesame oil stirred in off the heat adds a toasted aroma.