1880 Korean recipes. Page 5 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Korean Soy-Braised Baby Potatoes, Korean Coastal Herb Pickle.
Instead of a spatula, the pot itself does the stirring: you shake it so the baby potatoes roll through the reducing soy sauce, which keeps the skins on and the glaze even and dark. Cooled and kept in the fridge, they take the seasoning all the way through and last close to a week.
Coastal hog fennel keeps its sharp, slightly bitter fragrance even under soy brine, which makes this pickle stand out among milder side dishes. A blanch of exactly 15 seconds sets the aroma, and a cold rinse right after holds the crunch. A longer blanch strips the scent first. Squeeze the herb hard before it goes into the jar, or its water thins the brine. After 2 to 3 days of chilling, the bitterness and the soy seasoning even out, and small portions go alongside rice.
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.
This tomato-free lasagna gets its nutty, toasty depth from ground perilla seeds (deulkkae) stirred into the white sauce, and that flavor pairs with the earthy browned mushrooms. Button and oyster mushrooms are browned in batches so they taste roasted rather than steamed. Mozzarella binds the layers and Parmigiano browns the top, and a short rest after baking lets the slices hold their shape.
Eaten raw, chamnamul (a Korean mountain herb) gives off a fresh aroma somewhere between parsley and celery. Pan-fried cubes of firm tofu, golden and crisp outside, give it something to chew on, julienned Asian pear adds cool sweetness, and halved cherry tomatoes bring a little acidity. Whether the tofu forms a firm crust depends on moisture: pressed poorly, it sticks to the pan and never firms up. The cubes are folded in last, after the greens are dressed, once they have cooled completely and can hold their shape. The pear is cut right before assembly to limit browning, and the dressing is just perilla oil, lemon juice, and soup soy sauce, kept simple so the nutty perilla oil leads.
Rolled in roasted soybean powder or black sesame powder and poked with a chopstick for eyes, these buns come out looking like potatoes fresh from the dirt. The dough is tapioca starch and glutinous rice flour, so it stays chewy even cold, and it holds a sweet mashed potato filling mixed with mayonnaise.
Eye round is simmered for 20 minutes, and that broth, seasoned with soy sauce, becomes the braising liquid, so the beef flavor stays under the salt. The meat is torn by hand along the grain rather than sliced, then cooked down with peeled quail eggs until the liquid has halved. A night in the fridge evens out the seasoning.
Rice toasted in sesame oil before any water is added gives this plain Korean porridge a faint nutty base instead of a flat, watery taste. The long, low simmer needs a wooden spatula working the bottom of the pot; skip that and the porridge catches, turning darker and off in flavor.
The shrimp are scored along the back, seared for just 30 seconds and set aside on a plate. They go back in only after the cabbage is done, so the shrimp stay springy and the stems keep their crunch. Soy sauce with a little fish sauce does the seasoning.
Most of the filling is a flat omelet of shredded cabbage and carrot, cooked to the size of the bread. The sugar is not stirred into a sauce; it is scattered straight onto the toasted bread, followed by mayonnaise, the omelet, ham and ketchup.
Cooked glutinous rice, flecked with black sesame, is pressed thin and pan-toasted like nurungji, the crisp rice crust Koreans scrape from the pot. The sheet then breaks into pieces that are tossed in a grain syrup glaze, which turns glassy and crisp as it cools.
Misutgaru, a Korean powder of roasted mixed grains, is blended with ripe banana, so the sweetness of the fruit sits on top of a toasty, grainy base. A spoonful of peanut butter makes it nuttier, and blending in ice leaves it thick and cold.
Made as a drinking snack, these mushrooms get nothing more than butter, garlic, a splash of soy sauce and some pepper. Crowd them in the pan and they sit in their own water and end up tasting boiled, so a small pan means cooking in two batches.
Everything in this napa cabbage doenjang soup is easy to find, and half a spoonful of gochujang gives the broth a reddish tint and a mild heat. Doenjang brands differ a lot in saltiness. The paste goes in light at first, and the pot is adjusted with more doenjang or water at the end.
Garlic chives make up most of this pancake, with just a little carrot and onion. The batter is loose enough to run off a spoon, and instead of one big pancake it is spread thin in several small ones. Small rounds are easier to keep even and to support on the spatula when flipping.
The broth here comes from a generous 700 g of hard clams. Thick slabs of tofu go in only after the clams open and simmer for five minutes, long enough to soak up the clam juices that come out again when you bite. The shells bring their own salt; soup soy sauce is kept light.
The female crabs, full of roe and tomalley, steam belly-up so that everything inside the top shell stays there instead of leaking into the pot. The soy, oligosaccharide syrup and rice wine mixture is only spooned over the shells, nothing like a heavy braising sauce. Past 15 to 20 minutes, the meat starts to fall apart into mush.
The bitter, herbal aroma of bangpungnamul (coastal hog fennel) cuts through the chili paste and makes this kimchi taste nothing like the napa cabbage kind. That aroma depends on a blanch of only 20 seconds, and any longer leaves the stems limp. Kneading would dull the scent too, and the greens are only lifted and turned through the paste. A spoonful of soup soy sauce adds depth without extra saltiness. After 2 hours at room temperature it goes into the fridge and is served cold from the next day.
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.
Like risotto, orzo stirred through vegetable stock turns creamy and spoonable, all in one pot. The clams are added near the end and open right in the pot, letting their briny juice mix with doenjang, the Korean fermented soybean paste that seasons it all.
Sweet yuja citron syrup, balanced with soy sauce and a little garlic, turns plain chicken breast into something bright. Gently poached chicken breast, rested off the heat and torn along the grain, soaks up that dressing between its fibers instead of turning dry. Chamnamul, a slightly bitter Korean herb, keeps the citrus sweetness from tipping the salad toward dessert.
In Korean bakeries, danpat-ppang means a soft yeast dough wrapped around thick, sweet red bean paste, so plain bread and rich filling arrive in the same bite. Both rises matter: the first fills the dough with air, and skipping the second leaves the crumb tight and heavy.
It's fried twice, exactly like Korean sweet-and-sour pork, but with oyster mushrooms torn along the grain in place of the meat. The sweet-sour soy sauce comes on the side, so everyone decides for themselves whether to pour it over or dip.
The rice is cooked in the broth from simmering clams with kelp, so every grain tastes of the shellfish. The picked clam meat goes on top after the heat is off and warms through as the rice rests, and each bowl is mixed with a sauce of soy and sesame oil. Water poured over the crust at the bottom of the pot turns it into sungnyung, a toasted rice drink.