239 recipes. Page 1 of 10
Noodle recipes from Korean to pasta
The freshwater fish disappears entirely, its flesh dissolved into a spicy gochujang and doenjang broth thick with both rice and thin somyeon noodles. Perilla seed powder and perilla leaves are strong enough that the muddy taste river fish can have barely registers. Fine bones can survive even several strainings, so eat slowly.
Crushed instant noodles, fried crisp and tossed in a sticky gochujang, ketchup, and corn syrup glaze, taste like the snack sold outside Korean stationery shops near schools in the 1980s and 1990s. If deep-frying is a hassle, 5 minutes in a 180-degree air fryer does the job. Keep the seasoning packet aside and add a little if the glaze tastes flat.
Wavy ramen strands leave ridges and pockets across the surface of this pancake, and those uneven spots fry up especially crunchy. The noodles are boiled for only two minutes so they stay firm; the heat of the pan finishes them and they keep their spring instead of collapsing into the batter.
With no broth to dilute it, the soy, sesame oil, and oyster sauce mixture at the bottom of the bowl clings straight to the noodles, so every mouthful lands at full strength. A small splash of vinegar keeps the oil from feeling heavy, and a bowl that starts to taste greasy just needs one more toss from the bottom up.
Modeled on Korea's summer bowl of noodles in cold soybean broth, this version skips soaking and grinding soybeans: unsweetened soy milk is blended with toasted sesame and peanut butter into a thick, nutty broth. The only heat used goes into boiling the linguine, which is then rinsed in ice water so it stays firm and chewy in the cold broth. Cucumber and cherry tomatoes go on top.
With dried anchovies, kelp and somyeon noodles on hand, this bowl comes together even when the fridge is nearly empty. There is no chili and no fermented paste; the clear anchovy broth simmers for 15 minutes and is seasoned with soup soy sauce and salt. The thin wheat noodles cook in a separate pot and are rinsed, so their starch does not cloud the broth.
Packaged wheat noodles, cooked separately and laid in a clear broth of brisket and beef bones, make this a home version rather than a re-creation of traditional geonjin guksu, whose noodles are kneaded with soybean flour. The broth is not meant to turn milky and gelatinous like a long-boiled bone stock; about 70 minutes of gentle simmering, or longer if the brisket is still tough, is enough. Soaking, blanching, and boiling the noodles add time on top of that. Each bowl is topped with shredded brisket, zucchini, and separate strips of yolk and white omelet.
Minced pork, crumbled fine, clings to thin glass noodles as they soak up a reduced doubanjiang broth, and those bits of meat on the strands give the dish its name. The liquid cooks down almost completely, so the result is moist and glossy rather than soupy. Glass noodles go in still slightly firm and finish cooking in the pan, absorbing the sauce without breaking.
With grated fresh apple handling part of the sweetness and apple cider vinegar bringing the tang, the gochujang sauce tastes lighter and fresher. It is not fruit-sweetened alone, though: oligosaccharide syrup goes in too. Thirty minutes in the fridge takes the raw edge off the gochujang and lets the apple's acidity settle into it. Half a boiled egg on top turns the thin somyeon noodles into an easy light meal.
Tamarind gives this fish broth its sour backbone, with flaked mackerel and rice noodles underneath and cucumber and mint on top. A finely blended paste of onion, garlic, and ginger forms the base and carries the chili heat. The mackerel is cooked and boned before it goes into the soup, so the bowl is easy to eat. Cucumber and mint add a cool, fresh finish to the hot, sour broth.
Wide, hand-cut wheat noodles simmer briefly in a warm, sweet red bean soup, making a dessert that eats like a bowl of noodles. Coarse zarame sugar gives the beans a clean, pronounced sweetness, with a pinch of salt to round it out. Floating is not proof the noodles are done; the thickest strand gets split open to look for raw flour.
Hard clams, not anchovies, give this broth its base, and their clean sea flavor soaks into every strand of hand-cut noodle. Radish, zucchini, and onion add sweetness, while starch released by the noodles thickens the soup slightly without any added thickener. Shaking the loose flour off the noodles first keeps that thickening from turning the broth cloudy. The clams come out as soon as their shells open and return only at the end, keeping the meat from turning rubbery. This style has long been eaten along the coasts of South Chungcheong and Jeolla, and it tastes best when clams are in season.
Manila clam broth is naturally salty, so a little soup soy sauce is enough, and more would bury the clean, mineral sea flavor. For a stronger soup, the answer is more clams rather than more seasoning.
Pork stock thickened lightly with tapioca starch carries crab meat, thick chewy banh canh noodles, and soft curds of egg in this southern Vietnamese soup. The broth should just coat the back of a spoon, and it keeps thickening after the heat is off, so a splash of hot stock at the end loosens it.
Halved onion and ginger, charred black in a dry pan, lose their raw bite and lend a caramel sweetness to an otherwise clear broth. Thin slices of Korean chadolbaegi brisket go into the bowl raw and cook only from the boiling broth poured over them, staying soft and juicy. The thinner the slices, the better that brief heat reaches the middle. The marbled brisket fat adds more body than standard pho, landing somewhere between Korean gomtang and Vietnamese pho. Bean sprouts, cilantro, and lime on the side let each person tune aroma and acidity, with the cilantro added just before eating so its scent stays fresh.
Beef and shiitake share one soy and garlic marinade and hit the pan together, letting the mushrooms soak up the meat juices instead of tasting like a separate vegetable. What sets this japchae apart is the last step: after everything is tossed in a bowl, it goes back into a hot pan just long enough to drive off loose seasoning. The noodles should end up clear and bouncy with no thin sauce pooling underneath. Sweet and salty japchae like this is a fixture of Chuseok, Seollal and birthday tables in Korea.
Shiitake carries the chew in this meatless japchae, cut into long thin strips alongside the onion and carrot. The seasoning is split: half dresses the sauteed vegetables, and the rest is stir-fried with the boiled noodles so they take on flavor of their own.
Five minutes in soy-and-mirin-seasoned bonito dashi is enough for shiitake and oyster mushrooms to spread their savory, woodsy flavor through the whole broth. Tearing the oyster mushrooms along the grain, instead of slicing them, lets them soak up more liquid. The soba cooks in a separate pot and gets rinsed in cold water, washing off surface starch that would cloud the broth and leave the noodles limp. A pinch of grated yuzu zest at the end floats a sharp citrus note over the earthy broth so the bowl finishes light, and sliced chives add color.
Wide ribbons of hand-stretched dough, slapped against the counter as they lengthen, come to the bowl with chili flakes and garlic piled in the middle. Oil heated to just short of smoking is poured over that pile, cooking the garlic and chili on contact, while soy sauce and vinegar underneath turn it into a sharp, savory dressing. With all-purpose flour, resting does more of the work than kneading, and a strip that shrinks back or tears needs more time under cover, not a harder pull. The broad, thin ribbons get stirred the moment they hit the boiling water, before they can stick to each other.
With only gochujang, vinegar and sugar in the dressing, this bunsik-shop noodle dish lives on the texture of the noodles. A thorough cold rinse is what makes sweet potato glass noodles springy, because any warmth left after draining keeps them softening until they stick into a clump. The dressing keeps in the fridge, but the noodles should meet it only just before eating, or they soak it up and turn soft.
Gochujang heat, the sweetness of maesil plum syrup, and a sharp hit of vinegar land together in each mouthful of these cold somyeon noodles. A thorough cold-water rinse strips off surface starch, so the thin wheat noodles turn bouncy and the sauce coats them evenly instead of clumping. Torn lettuce and cucumber strips bring crunch, and the little moisture they release loosens the thick sauce just enough.
The gochujang sauce grips tough, springy naengmyeon noodles rather than sliding off, and every strand carries the spicy-sour coating. Mixing the sauce 10 minutes ahead gives the sugar time to dissolve and the flavors time to even out. The noodles cook in well under a minute over high heat, and lifting them out the moment the strands separate keeps them from going soft. Rubbing them under cold water to strip the starch, then squeezing them hard, stops leftover water from thinning the sauce. Cucumber and Korean pear, crisped in ice water, cool the heat with crunch and light fruitiness, and half a boiled egg softens the chili's edge.
Kecap manis, Indonesia's thick sweet soy sauce, caramelizes against the hot wok and wraps the thin rice vermicelli in a dark, sticky coat. Sambal fried in the oil first puts heat underneath that sweetness, and chicken, cabbage and carrot are tossed in quickly so the vegetables keep some crunch. Street stalls and warung across Indonesia and Malaysia cook it from early morning until late at night.
Tsuyu sharpened with vinegar dresses this cold soba salad and finishes lighter than an oil-based dressing would. Purple shreds of red cabbage, cucumber and lettuce mix in among the brown buckwheat noodles, and nori flakes are scattered on top. Rubbing the noodles under cold water until the slick surface is gone keeps the strands separate and lets the dressing cling. A boiled egg or some chicken breast turns it into a full meal.