After two or three days in the fridge in a soy and vinegar brine, the water parsley (minari) stays crisp and its fresh, grassy smell picks up a salty, tart edge. Leftover water is what usually turns it limp, so the washed stalks are spread out and dried thoroughly first.
Ten minutes of salt is all the water dropwort (minari) gets, so the stems stay crisp and the fresh, grassy aroma comes through intact. Even draining is gentle, a light press with the palm, since wringing the stems would cost them that snap. Anchovy fish sauce gives the light herb a savory base, and the fruity tartness of plum syrup softens the chili heat, while finely grated onion binds the paste into one smooth seasoning. Served with fatty pork belly or boiled pork, the herb clears the richness from the palate between bites. It is best eaten cold on the day it is made, before the stems wilt further.
Crunchy seaweed stems carry a layer of salty soy and sharp vinegar over a faint taste of the sea. The stems are blanched for only about 20 seconds and squeezed dry right away; that brief dip is what keeps their snappy chew. Onion lends the brine a natural sweetness and cheongyang chile a hot finish. Salted stems vary in saltiness, so the soaking time is adjusted by tasting a strand.
Cubes cut to an even 1.5 cm take in the hot soy brine at the same pace, and after three days in the fridge they turn slightly translucent and salty-sweet to the center. The brine goes into the jar right after it comes to a full boil, because longer boiling drives off the sharpness of the vinegar. A single dried chile tucked among the cubes adds a gentle warmth. It sits comfortably beside gimbap, bibimbap or a bowl of gukbap.
Drying concentrates the radish's sweetness, and the rehydrated strips keep a chew that sets them apart from fresh radish pickles, as long as the soak in lukewarm water stops at 20 minutes, when the centers bend but before they turn floppy. The chili flakes are stirred into the brine after it has cooled completely, so the color spreads evenly through the jar.
Between bites of greasy fried chicken or pork cutlet, a cube of this sweet-sour radish resets the palate. The balance comes down to vinegar against sugar: more vinegar and the sourness takes over, more sugar and it starts tasting like candied fruit. It is ready to eat 30 minutes after the hot brine is poured over, but the flavor only reaches the center after a night in the fridge. Leaving the turmeric out changes only the color, since the bright yellow of chicken-shop radish comes from gardenia or turmeric. Thin slices turn soft, while evenly chunky pieces, sealed and chilled, stay crisp for more than two weeks.
Thick, fibrous radish green stems grip the seasoning and keep their chew long after the leaves soften. The stems get a ten-minute head start in the salt before the leaves join them, so both end up evenly seasoned. Cooled glutinous rice paste holds the chili mixture in place as the kimchi ripens, and sliced onion tempers the heat with sweetness. Longer cold fermentation softens the fibers and deepens the sour aroma, which makes older batches good for chopping into doenjang stew or soup.
Radish sprouts are so thin that any pressure squeezes out water and a grassy smell, which keeps the tossing down to about 20 seconds with the fingertips, and the vinegar is added last for a brighter tang. Eaten right away, before the sprouts wilt, it is light and crisp; leftovers keep, chilled and sealed, for a day or two.
The salt is kept at twenty percent of the anchovy weight, and the jar stays in the fridge for the whole cure. The jar stays shut until brine rises over the fish, and only then do garlic, ginger, chili flakes, and rice wine go in, their aroma sitting on top of an already mellowed, salty base. A little stirred into kimchi paste adds savory depth, and a spoonful over hot rice works as a side dish on its own.
Brine poured after only three minutes off the boil lightly blanches the surface of the alpine leek leaves, keeping them bright green while the inside stays raw and garlicky. With soy sauce and vinegar at equal volumes, neither salt nor sourness dominates once the leaves soak through. Each leaf is washed front and back and dried flat, since grit left on a single one turns the whole jar bitter. The finished leaves are mostly used to wrap grilled meat.
Pollock roe sacs tear easily, and every stage of this jeotgal, from rinsing to coating, comes down to handling them lightly enough to keep the membranes whole. A 30-minute salt cure with a piece of kelp firms the surface before rice wine and a thin red coat of chili flakes, garlic, and sugar go on. During the cold cure the eggs tighten and pop when bitten, with the chili warmth staying behind the salty sea flavor. Slices of it go on hot rice.
The broth, not the vegetables, carries this water kimchi: it is meant to be spooned up and sipped cold. Gochugaru is steeped in a cheesecloth bundle so the water turns clear red without powder clouding it. Radish and napa cabbage are sliced into thin flat squares and salted only briefly, so they keep some crunch in the liquid. A day at room temperature brings a gentle tang, and a few more days in the fridge round it out. A spoonful next to spicy dishes cools the mouth, and in summer it drinks almost like naengmyeon broth.
Made with early-spring shepherd's purse, this kimchi is eaten as soon as the seasoning settles in the fridge, and sweet rice paste gives the chili and anchovy sauce dressing enough body to cling to the thin stems. Washing takes more care than anything else in the recipe: soil hides between the fine roots, and any left behind makes the whole batch taste muddy and bitter.
Raw nakji, a slender-armed octopus, gets a 30-minute salt cure and then goes straight into the red pepper seasoning and stays springy instead of turning soft like long-fermented jeotgal. Thin arms and the thick body are cut to different lengths so each piece makes a similar bite. Starch syrup makes the dressing glossy and sweet, slices of garlic give some bites a sharp edge, and sesame finishes it with a toasted note. Anyone who should avoid raw seafood should skip this dish, as salt curing does not replace cooking.
Sardines salted in spring sit through the summer, then are cooked down in late autumn into a thick liquid that pickles whole daikon. Spanning two seasons, this Kakudahama, Niigata tradition is closer to a yearly project than a quick pickle. The radish stays firm but takes on the strong salt and smell of fermented fish. It is sliced thin and eaten with rice a little at a time. The makers use shirokubi daikon, and bottled fish sauce does not stand in for the brine the spring cure produces. A ventilated space for handling and cooking fish, a large barrel and heavy weights matter as much as the ingredients.
Halved eggplants layered with sweetened sticky rice, yellow chrysanthemum petals and sliced red chili show stripes of yellow and red when cut. In southern Akita it has long been set out at New Year and on celebration tables, and it is called sushi because the pickle is built on rice, not fish. Sugar, salt and sake are mixed into the rice, which becomes the pickling bed: the eggplant comes out more sweet than salty, with soft rice clinging to it. Alum, chrysanthemum and bamboo leaves all have to be food-grade, with no decorative flowers or unidentified leaves. The container stays at 4°C the whole time, and any mold or rotten smell means it is not eaten.
Daikon split at an angle into thick, rough chunks soaks up sweet amazake, a thick, lightly fermented rice drink, while the center stays crunchy. Everything stays at 4°C or below from the first salting through storage. Mold, an off smell or unusual sliminess means the batch is discarded without tasting.
Frost-softened nozawana greens are layered whole in a barrel with salt, kombu and dried chili, then pressed under a heavy weight until their own brine rises and lactic fermentation proceeds in the cold. The plant developed in the cool highlands of Nozawa Onsen in Nagano, growing long leaves and stalks rather than a big root, and became an essential way to keep greens through winter. It can be sampled after a few weeks and turns more sour and savory at around a month. With 40 kg of greens, foot-treading and stones of 30 kg or more, this is a two-person barrel project rather than a kitchen pickle.
Hot soy brine sets only the outer surface of the cucumber while the center stays crisp even after several days of chilling. Whole garlic cloves slowly release their aroma into the liquid and hot green chilies leave a faint heat at the end of each bite, giving more depth than plain soy pickles. Because the half-moons are cut a thick 1 cm, they need about two days of chilling before the soy and vinegar reach the middle. The first pour is hot, but when the brine is drained and boiled again to keep the slices crisp for longer, it goes back on only after cooling. Serve it over rice or next to gukbap, a Korean rice and soup dish.
Unlike soy-based Korean jangajji, this Western-style pickle of vinegar, sugar, bay leaf and black peppercorns leans sweet and sour. A 10-minute salting draws water from the 1 cm rounds before they meet the brine, keeping the liquid strong, and its sharp first acidity mellows into the sweetness as the jar chills.
The cucumbers are stored whole, split lengthwise into quarters with the red chive filling poking out, and only cut into bite-size pieces at the table. Bite into one and the cucumber juice and the seasoning come out together.
Whole cucumbers sit in a hot salt brine and then age, refrigerated, for at least five days, turning into strongly salted pickles meant to be sliced thin and used a little at a time. Only 2 to 3 mm is trimmed from each end, since deeper cuts let brine rush in and soften the flesh. The slices go into side dishes or chilled Korean soups.
Salting firms the squid flesh enough to keep a pleasantly chewy bite after it is coated in the red seasoning. Starch syrup gives the gochugaru paste a gloss and a little sweetness that keeps the salt from standing alone. The squid should be frozen at -20°C or below for at least 24 hours and thawed in the fridge before cleaning, with any visible parasites removed. Hot rice is the usual partner.
Finely cut seisai, a Yamagata mustard green, is mixed with daikon, carrot, sunchoke, salted shiso seeds and yellow edible chrysanthemum petals into a colorful, finely chopped relish. It comes from the Murayama, Mogami and Okitama areas of Yamagata. The green liquid released during the overnight pre-salting is poured off and the vegetables squeezed hard, which keeps the soy, mirin and zarame sugar marinade from being diluted. Mildly salted and soy-seasoned, it is spooned over rice or mixed into rice balls, ochazuke or fried rice. That low salt also means it stays refrigerated and is eaten within about two weeks.