1880 Korean recipes. Page 24 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Korean Goji Berry Tea (Herbal Jujube Ginger Brew).
Goji berries left to boil too long darken the tea but turn it bitter. Jujubes and ginger get fifteen minutes on their own first, and the berries join only for the last five, just long enough to plump up and tint the water red.
Pear, onion and garlic are blended smooth as the base of the marinade, and the ribs can sit in it overnight. The leftover marinade has held raw pork, so it gets boiled once in a small pot before being brushed on as the ribs grill. Eat them wrapped in lettuce or with rice.
Cheonggukjang smells far stronger than doenjang, and once it is stirred into the stock its earthy, heavy aroma takes over the whole pot. Leaving the soup covered off the heat for a few minutes before serving softens that smell noticeably.
Chopped napa kimchi and grated potato share one batter, yet the kimchi's sour, fermented tang and the potato's mild sweetness stay distinct within the same pancake. Where kimchi juice meets the pan over medium-high heat, the edges darken into a toasty crust.
This stew starts from plain water instead of stock: donggeurang-ttaeng, small pan-fried patties of meat, tofu, and vegetables, already carry enough seasoning to flavor the pot. Frozen patties work fine as long as they lie in a single layer under the broth and heat right through to the middle.
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.
Carrot brings its own sweetness to this soy and vinegar pickle, so each bite reads as three clear notes: sweet, salty and sour. Cutting the sticks to an even 0.5 cm keeps every piece pickling at the same speed, which is what gives the jar a uniform crunch. Onion, whole garlic and a halved Cheongyang chili (a hot Korean green pepper) season the brine. The jar is ready after about 24 hours in the fridge and works as a sharp, crunchy foil to fatty grilled meat.
Slippery acorn jelly and fine wheat somyeon sit together in cold, tangy dongchimi broth, the liquid from radish water kimchi. Every mouthful mixes two kinds of softness. At least 1 hour in the fridge sharpens the broth's sweet-tangy balance. The jelly holds thin strips best when it is cut straight from the fridge, and the boiled noodles turn springy only after a hands-on rub under cold water strips off their surface starch. Kimchi brings a spicy edge and cucumber a cool crunch, while sesame oil stays in the background, just enough to stop the noodles sticking without masking the broth's clean acidity. It suits hot summer days when appetite runs low.
Crisp apple and kiwi, soft banana, and tart strawberries and blueberries end up together in each spoonful, held by plain yogurt sweetened only with honey and sharpened with lemon. Cutting the fruit to a similar size keeps every bite even. The lemon juice does a second job, slowing the apple from turning brown. Banana softens fastest of all, so it joins the bowl last, after everything else is coated. Ten minutes in the fridge lets the fruit juices loosen the yogurt into a lighter, glossier coating.
Soft milk-and-egg buns are topped with soboro, a crumbly streusel of cake flour, almond flour, sugar and cold butter that cracks and browns in the oven. The sugar and butter are each split between dough and topping, and weighing out the topping portion first keeps the two from getting mixed up.
Braised in the same pot, the tofu turns soft enough to break under a spoon while the shrimp curl up firm and springy. A little of the braising liquid is left in the pan on purpose, for spooning over rice.
Chicken thigh, cabbage and onion stir-fried with gochujang and chili flakes get cold rice tossed in, turning dakgalbi into fried rice. Once it is mixed, the rice is pressed against the pan for 30 seconds to sear the bottom, then covered with mozzarella and melted under a lid.
Big 5 cm lengths of green onion carry as much weight as the meat in this soy-glazed pork neck. Kept apart from the onion, they go in only once the sauce has turned glossy on the pork, so their edges soften while the centers keep their shape.
The vegetable and egg mixture is poured wide in the pan, and once the edges set it gets folded twice into a thick square. That goes with ham between slices of butter-toasted bread, along with ketchup, sugar and mayonnaise.
Sujeonggwa, the Korean cinnamon-ginger punch sweetened with dark brown sugar, is frozen in a tray and raked with a fork into icy crystals that each carry a clear hit of spice. Leave too long between scrapes and it sets into a solid slab, which is why the raking continues at steady intervals after the first pass. Thin strips of dried persimmon and pine nuts on top are the same garnish traditionally floated in the drink.
Dried gujeolcho, a Korean chrysanthemum that flowers in the ninth lunar month, steeps for just five minutes in water around 90°C, since boiling weakens its scent. Fine shreds of pear go into each cup and soften slightly in the hot tea.
Blanching time decides the texture of pork skin, which is almost pure collagen: too short and it stays rubbery, too long and it goes limp. On the grill the skin buckles into ridges that trap the gochujang glaze, concentrating spicy-sweet flavor in every groove.
Bok choy turns up more often in Chinese cooking, yet it suits doenjang soup well. It sits in supermarkets all year, which makes it a handy replacement when there is no napa cabbage, and zucchini and tofu fill out the bowl alongside it.
Some of the batter's liquid is kimchi brine, which turns even the plain batter red and gives it a sour tang. Leftovers crisp up again almost completely in a dry pan with no oil.
A tablespoon of doenjang is stirred into the red chili broth to tame the fishiness. The frozen pollock is thawed only partly, just enough for a knife to get through the bone, and cut while still firm; fully thawed, the flesh crumbles.
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.
No soy sauce goes into this pickle: deodeok, a mountain root prized for its fragrance, sits in vinegar, sugar and salt alone, leaving its own aroma in front. Pounding the split roots flat with the back of a knife loosens the dense fibers and lets the brine work its way between them, and a day of chilling turns the texture pleasantly chewy. Chili flakes and sesame oil go on only at serving time, which keeps the red bright, and the dish is served cold.
Two separately cooked toppings make this bowl of dressed noodles: pan-seared tofu and stir-fried ripe kimchi. Pressing the tofu dry before it meets a hot pan gives it a golden crust and a soft center, a mild counterweight to the gochujang dressing. Brief frying takes the sharp sourness off well-fermented kimchi and pushes its savory side forward. The noodles end up spicy, sweet and tangy without turning harsh.
Hot mustard hits the nose first, then the vinegar's tartness follows and leaves the mouth feeling cool and clean. The jellyfish is sliced thinly along the grain to match the cucumber and bell pepper strips. The dish is chilled in the fridge and eaten right away, before warmth can soften its crunchy snap. Familiar as a starter at Chinese restaurants in Korea, it is easy to make at home with ready-to-use jellyfish that has already been desalted and cooked according to the package.