1880 Korean recipes. Page 2 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Chestnut Sweet Jelly (Korean Agar-Set Chestnut White Bean Confection).
Agar sets this chestnut confection firm enough to slice cleanly, and each cut face shows the fine grain of sieved chestnut worked into white bean paste. It is a common holiday gift in Korea, and a block stays in good shape in the fridge for about a week.
Syrup made from prickly pear cactus fruit turns the glass a deep magenta and brings a berry-like sweetness with an earthy edge. Plenty of lemon and grapefruit juice keeps it from tasting like straight syrup, and the sparkling water goes in last, poured down the side of the glass and stirred only once.
Thin pork belly is wrapped tightly around each asparagus spear, and the rolls go into the pan seam side down. While the fat renders and crisps the outside, the asparagus steams inside and keeps some snap. Wipe the rendered fat out of the pan before adding the sauce, or the soy and syrup glaze will slide around instead of clinging.
This is the spicy monkfish soup Koreans go looking for the morning after, made at home. Monkfish flesh is soft and breaks apart easily, so once it is in the pot it barely gets stirred. If you can get the liver, adding it separately makes the broth deeper.
Fine strands of beet and onion, held together by a light coat of potato starch and pancake mix, fry into a thin pancake where the red shreds stay visible. The beet's deep color makes browning hard to read, which sets it apart from other jeon. The cue for turning is the outer edge instead, where the wet batter should look dry.
This monkfish stew lands between a clear soup and a heavily seasoned jjigae, with a cloudier, bolder broth than either and large pieces of firm fish. A small spoonful of doenjang tames the fish's odor, and gelatin from under the monkfish skin melts into the pot and thickens the broth with no starch.
Agujjim began in the 1970s at the fish market in Masan's Odong-dong, where vendors cooked unsold monkfish over high heat with bean sprouts and chili sauce, closer to stir-frying than braising. No water is added; the sprouts release enough liquid to pool in the pan, and a little starch slurry, added bit by bit, sets the thickness. Once the fish is gone, rice often gets mixed into the leftover sauce.
Twenty seconds in boiling water, then straight into ice water: that short blanch fixes the bright green and keeps a clean snap in every spear. Bending each stalk until it breaks on its own finds the point where the woody base ends, so nothing stringy ends up in the jar. Pickled in soy, brown rice vinegar and sugar, asparagus keeps a grassy, almost herbal note that radish or cabbage pickles never have. Thin lemon slices tucked between the spears add a citrus edge, though too much white pith turns the brine bitter. The aroma and acidity peak somewhere between days 2 and 5, and the sharpness works well beside rich grilled meat.
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.
Swapping basil for chamnamul, a celery-scented Korean mountain herb, and pine nuts for toasted walnuts makes this pesto greener and earthier than Genovese. Parmigiano and lemon juice set the salt and acidity. Twisted trofie hold the pesto in their grooves, and because they are not rinsed, their surface starch helps the sauce cling.
Bomdong, a flat, open-leaf cabbage harvested from winter into early spring, has sweet, crunchy leaves that pair surprisingly well with strawberries. The link is a doenjang dressing: Korean soybean paste loosened with olive oil, lemon juice, and honey, salty and nutty without being heavy. Because doenjang varies a lot in saltiness from brand to brand, the dressing goes on in portions, tasted as you go. The leaves are torn by hand rather than cut to keep their natural shape, then dried well, since leftover water thins the dressing. Strawberries sit on top of the greens instead of in the dressing, which would make them weep juice, and walnuts and sesame add a toasty note that bridges the fruit and the paste.
Sweet kernels coated in butter and mayonnaise sit beneath a stretchy sheet of melted mozzarella in this Korean skillet dish. Canned corn has to be drained well and cooked briefly to drive off water, or the pan turns soupy. The mayonnaise goes in over low heat and stops cooking once it clings, because longer heat makes it separate. A lid over the lowest heat melts the cheese without an oven.
Black rice flour turns these muffins a deep purple and adds a toasty, nutty grain flavor that coconut then sweetens. Coconut milk and neutral oil stand in for dairy and butter, which keeps the crumb soft even after the muffins have cooled completely.
Perilla powder goes in last, after the boiled napa cabbage has been dressed with doenjang. It soaks up the water left on the leaves, so the seasoning clings to each strand instead of pooling in the bowl. One tablespoon is enough; more turns the dish pasty.
Bacon started in a cold pan renders slowly, and that smoky fat replaces cooking oil for the whole fried rice. Well-fermented sour kimchi is fried until its edges brown, which rounds its sharp tang into something toastier. Pressing the rice against the pan builds a light crust on the bottom, the cue to turn off the heat. A runny-yolk fried egg goes on top and gets broken into the rice like a sauce.
Ground perilla seeds thicken the small amount of cooking liquid into a light, nutty sauce, so the cabbage ends up sitting in a shallow gravy rather than dry or watery. Stems and leaves are cut together, yet a short covered cook leaves the stems with some crunch while the leaves turn soft.
Vienna sausages coated in pancake-mix batter and pressed breadcrumbs fry up into hot dogs small enough for one bite. A 30-second blanch strips surface fat from the sausages so the batter grips instead of sliding.
Bokbunja, Korean black raspberry juice, is set with sheet gelatin so the cups keep its deep purple color and tartness. One pass through a fine strainer before pouring takes out foam and sediment, and the jelly turns clear. A few blueberries and a mint leaf go on top.
This is not a copy of Kooksoondang's Baekseju but a homemade rice wine of glutinous rice and Korean nuruk with fresh ginseng, jujubes and ginger. Whether fermentation is done is judged less by the day count than by the bubbling dropping off noticeably and the liquid separating into layers. Live yeast remains even in the strained wine and would ferment honey stirred into it, so honey goes only into each glass at serving.
Instead of lettuce or perilla, this ssam uses napa cabbage leaves charred briefly on a grill, which pick up smoke and sweetness while the inner ribs keep their crunch. That crunch is what lets a leaf wrap around grilled pork belly without tearing. A doenjang-based ssamjang adds salty, fermented depth to the pork fat and cabbage sweetness, and a lightly grilled chili tucked in brings heat.
Altang uses fresh, unsalted pollock roe. Make it with cured myeongran and the broth turns salty on the same amount of soy sauce, so check the label for unsalted when you shop.
Perilla seed powder has a heavier nuttiness than sesame with a slightly bitter finish, and in this jeon its aroma actually gets stronger once the pancake cools. Before they meet the batter, the oyster and shiitake mushrooms spend a minute in a dry pan to drive off their water. Soy sauce in the batter means it is seasoned enough to eat without a dipping sauce.
Mallow leaves turn this doenjang broth silky: their natural mucilage thickens the liquid so it clings to the spoon. Peeling the stringy stem skins and kneading out the green juice keeps the leaves from tasting grassy.
Unlike agujjim, the gochujang-heavy steamed monkfish, this one simmers down in a soy-based broth, where salt and sweetness come before heat. As the liquid reduces, the monkfish and radish take on an amber gloss, and that sauce gets spooned over rice.