1880 Korean recipes. Page 41 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Chilled Eggplant Soup, Korean Dried Radish Greens Pancake, Korean Mussel Stew.
Eggplant is steamed for just five minutes, torn along the grain and tossed with soup soy sauce and garlic so it takes on seasoning of its own. It then goes into cold water seasoned with vinegar and sugar and is topped with cheongyang chili and sesame seeds, a summer side dish. If ice is going in, the seasoning should be a little stronger, since it thins as the ice melts.
Siraegi, dried radish greens that have been boiled and stripped of their tough skins, still show their fibers after frying, a rustic chew unlike softer vegetable pancakes. The batter starts with doenjang (soybean paste) dissolved in cold water, plus some buckwheat flour, which makes it look a little rough; that is how it should look. The paste brings enough salt that none is added.
Mussels go in by the potful here, 900 g of them. Once the water with radish and garlic is boiling, the mussels are tipped in, and when they open and the broth turns milky, the chili flakes and soup soy sauce follow. Any that stay shut at the end get thrown out.
Giving the potatoes a 5-minute head start in plain water lines up their timing with the beltfish, and the starch they release thickens the sauce. Since beltfish breaks apart if handled often, the broth is ladled over rather than the pieces moved, and the reduced sauce is spooned onto rice with the fish.
Bamboo shoots have a tight, dense grain that drinks in the soy, vinegar and sugar brine slowly yet stays crisp, and by the third day of chilling the seasoning reaches the center. A bay leaf and whole peppercorns give the plain soy pickle a quiet spice note; the bay leaf comes out as soon as the brine boils so it does not take over. Raw shoots carry a bitterness the brine cannot hide. Next to fatty pork belly or galbi, the sharp, salty pieces cut the richness between bites.
Instead of being boiled apart, the hand-cut noodles go straight into the anchovy and kelp stock, and their surface flour thickens the broth slightly. Potato and onion cook first, giving the soup a mild sweetness under the savory anchovy. Expect a lightly cloudy, silky broth rather than a clear one.
Coarse, soft lumps of tofu sit between thin strips of red and yellow pepper and cucumber, and each bite alternates between creamy and crisp. The soy and vinegar dressing is a small amount, and any water left on the tofu or vegetables thins it quickly and pools at the bottom of the bowl.
The sprouts get no chili and no soy sauce; jayeom does the seasoning. This traditionally made salt has more savory depth than refined salt. It goes on before the other seasonings so it can reach the thick stems.
Black soybeans cooked soft and blended with their cooking water turn the rice porridge a deep purple-black, with a toasty, nutty bean aroma throughout. The beans and rice each need at least 4 hours of soaking before cooking begins.
Chicken breast, sliced thin across the grain, is seasoned with soy sauce, garlic and ginger and seared quickly. The fussiest part is the knife work: slices of even thickness cook at the same pace.
Store-bought jjondeugi, a chewy Korean snack sold in flat sheets, gets warmed in a pan and brushed with a thin sweet-and-spicy gochujang glaze. A plain, unseasoned product works better than one already coated in spicy seasoning, since the added glaze is easier to balance.
Dry-roasting dandelion root together with barley before simmering makes the cup taste more of toasted grain than of earthy root. Licorice and sliced ginger soften whatever bitterness remains and leave a warm finish.
The mussels start with two tablespoons of white wine and a lid, steaming for about 2 minutes. Only the opened ones are set aside; butter and garlic melt into the liquid left in the pan, and the mussels go back in for 2 or 3 minutes of tossing. Half a lemon is squeezed over once the heat is off.
Horse mackerel, cut in half on the bone, simmers with napa cabbage in a thin, strained doenjang broth in this Jeju soup. The pieces are left alone because stirring breaks the flesh, and the soup keeps cooking past the point where the cabbage softens until the fish is opaque at the center.
Four shiitake, finely chopped, go into the ground beef, and the mushroom's grain turns up in every mouthful of meat.
Dried pollock strips toasted briefly in perilla oil give this clear, chili-free stew a nutty base, and napa cabbage softens slowly into it, adding its own sweetness. The pollock only gets a quick dip in water, since a long soak washes out its flavor.
Hairtail is so soft and oily that stirring it with a ladle breaks it apart. Here the pot itself gets a shake now and then to move the sauce around underneath, and broth is spooned over the fish only in the last few minutes with the lid off.
Kale's strong green smell mellows as it ferments while the leaves keep a firm bite, giving a kimchi that chews more than napa cabbage kimchi does. Julienned radish adds crunch, and soup soy sauce, rather than fish sauce, supplies the salty depth. Pear puree, or apple puree in its place, wraps the chili heat in fruit sweetness and balances the slightly bitter finish of the kale. It tastes best from the day after making, once the seasoning has settled into the leaves overnight.
Torn dough flakes and knife-cut noodles share one bowl, so soft, silky sujebi alternates with springy noodles in every spoonful. To judge doneness, bite into a flake: once the raw-flour taste is gone and the noodles still have bounce, serve right away.
Briny clams and the clear sweetness of persimmon come together cold in a hot-mustard dressing, a Korean naengchae, or chilled salad. The clams are blanched briefly and moved straight into ice water so residual heat does not keep cooking them. Minari (water parsley) adds a grassy bitterness that balances sweet and salty, and red cabbage contributes crunch and purple color. Fine strips of Korean pear release juice that spreads the dressing through the bowl. Firm persimmon works better than soft, holding its bite even when sliced thin. Vinegar and hot mustard paste leave a sharp, clean finish, so it suits a seasonal starter for guests.
A tablespoon of mayonnaise goes into the gochujang dressing. Its oil coats the dry squid strips, letting the dressing cling softly and making the squid less tough to chew. The finished dish is nearly dry, and in a lunchbox the sauce stays put instead of creeping into the next compartment.
Small balls of sesame-oil rice and a dab of garlicky ssamjang, a Korean dipping paste of soybean and chili, are wrapped in Swiss chard leaves blanched for just 30 seconds. The one bit of prep that matters is shaving down the thick rib on the back of each leaf with a flat knife; left whole, it stays stiff and pokes through when you fold.
Garlic goes into melted butter, then the shrimp, and as soon as they turn pink the soy sauce, sugar and cheongyang chili go in for a thirty-second finish. There is no time to measure anything in those thirty seconds, so the seasoning is set out before the burner goes on.
Chopped kimchi goes into the pork filling, so its sourness and heat cut through the richness of the meat. Browning, steaming and crisping all happen in one pan, and the soy dip gets an extra splash of vinegar.