1880 Korean recipes. Page 50 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Korean Pickled Garlic Scapes, Korean Octopus Chogochujang Buckwheat Noodles.
Unlike whole-garlic jangajji, which waits for a cooled brine, garlic scapes get the brine while it is still boiling. That heat lightly cooks the surface, so each 4 cm piece snaps cleanly when bitten. Whole peppercorns slowly release a warm, spicy aroma into the liquid as the jar ages. The scapes are edible the next day, though day three is when the seasoning reaches the center and the crunch is still intact.
Thin slices of boiled octopus sit on chilled buckwheat noodles dressed in chogochujang, gochujang loosened with vinegar and sugar into a sweet, sour, spicy sauce. Already cooked, the octopus mainly needs patting dry so the sauce clings instead of sliding off. Shredded cabbage and perilla leaves under the noodles add crunch and an herbal note, and only half the sauce is tossed in at first so the rest can season the bowl just before eating.
Yuzu syrup, sweet and fragrant with citrus peel, coats chewy-crisp lotus root and makes a bright side for rich main dishes. Thickness decides the texture: even 3 mm rounds stay pleasantly chewy after blanching, while slices cut too thin lose their crunch. A quick rinse in cold water right after blanching stops the cooking while the cut faces are just turning translucent. The rinsed slices are then spread out to drain so leftover water does not dilute the dressing. A rest of about 5 minutes and one more toss let the dressing reach the hollow channels. If the yuzu syrup tastes too sweet, a drop more vinegar brings it back into balance, and the dish is chilled before serving.
Dip the tentacle tips into the boiling water three or four times and they curl inward; that curl is the shape the octopus keeps on the plate. After that the water stays at a gentle simmer, because a hard boil toughens the flesh. Thick diagonal slices go out with chogochujang, a vinegared chili sauce.
Black rice that has not soaked for at least an hour stays hard even once the white rice around it is cooked. The soaking water turns purple, and it goes into the pot as part of the cooking water, which deepens the color of the rice.
Only soy sauce, cooking wine and garlic season it, and lightly, so the sweetness of Korean zucchini (aehobak) and the shrimp come first. It holds up well at room temperature.
Split open a coin-stamped Korean 10-won bread and mozzarella stretches out in long strands, with sweet corn kernels scattered through the salty cheese. The batter is mixed only until no dry flour remains, since extra stirring turns the thin crust tough instead of lightly crisp.
Young pine needles steeped over low heat with jujubes and ginger give a clear, resin-like pine scent. Longer simmering does not make that scent stronger, only more astringent, so the brew stays under 20 minutes.
Cockles are at their plumpest from winter into early spring. They go into boiling water only until the shells start to open, then get a thin layer of spicy sauce and a turn in the pan. Bubbling sauce does not mean the meat is done; the center should hold 85 to 90°C for more than 90 seconds. The sauce left in the pan gets mixed into rice.
Gochujang, chili flakes and soy sauce dissolve into beef bone broth, turning the pot red and heavy. Napa cabbage, onion and oyster mushrooms line the bottom with the intestine and tripe piled on top, and as the vegetables soften underneath they sweeten the broth.
No stock goes into the pot: plain water plus 3 tablespoons of salted shrimp (saeujeot) carries all the savory depth. The radish is cut into thin julienne and tossed with the shrimp and chili flakes before cooking, so the seasoning is already in the strands when the water goes in. The broth comes out clearer and more lightly spicy than doenjang or kimchi jjigae.
Steamed in the shell, oysters keep the briny liquor that pools around the meat, so they taste of the sea with no added salt. It is a quick way to cook winter oysters from start to finish, and a dip of soy sauce, vinegar and chili flakes puts a sour edge over the salt.
Butterbur stems carry a sharp astringency that a long cold-water soak after blanching draws out, while the stalks keep their fibrous structure. The stringy outer layer has to be pulled off first; left on, it stays tough in the jar. Pouring the soy, vinegar and sugar brine, steeped with kelp, over the stems while it is still hot keeps them crisp for longer. Sliced garlic and cheongyang chili give the salty pickle a streak of heat.
Myeongi jangajji (wild garlic leaves pickled in soy) is sliced into the bowl, and its pickling liquid loosens the gochujang into a sauce for chilled udon. The garlicky smell of the leaves comes through the heat, and shredded cucumber and tuna go on top.
Sweet citrus from yuja (Korean citron) marmalade and the nose-tingling heat of Korean mustard share one dressing, which coats shredded chicken breast and thin-cut vegetables served cold. The chicken is poached without salt, so all the seasoning comes from the dressing.
Medium dried anchovies are toasted in a dry pan for a minute before any sauce touches them, which drives off moisture and fishy smell and keeps them crunchy under the glaze. Once the anchovies are in the sauce, the coating takes under 2 minutes, and any longer sets the glaze hard.
Sweet rice flour, not grains of rice, thickens this kabocha porridge, so it stays smooth all the way through. A teaspoon of ginger juice stirred in at the end leaves a warm, sharp note behind the squash and sugar.
Pumpkin leaves get tougher and more fibrous as they grow, so this uses young ones picked in summer. The stringy fibers are peeled from the stems, and the leaves are blanched, squeezed dry and stir-fried with shrimp in perilla oil, seasoned with soup soy sauce.
Sundae, Korean blood sausage, alternates with onion and green onion on the skewer before it goes into the pan. The onions lose water and turn sweet as they cook, a break between rich mouthfuls of sausage. The glaze mixes gochujang with ketchup, oligosaccharide syrup, and soy sauce.
Somaek, short for soju plus maekju (beer), started as a bomb-shot habit at Korean drinking tables, and this version tidies it into something closer to a highball with ice, lemon juice, and a lemon slice. At one part soju to three parts lager, beer still carries most of the flavor while soju adds strength. A splash of soda water lowers the alcohol and sharpens the fizz.
Busan-style kkomjangeo, or hagfish, is cooked fast over high heat. Leave it too long in the marinade or the pan and it weeps water and loses its springy chew. The scallions go in just long enough to wilt.
Only chili flakes and soup soy sauce season the beef bone broth in this Seoul version, with no gochujang, so it turns red yet stays clear and sharp. The intestines simmer alone for about 12 minutes to release their rich, fatty filling before cabbage, onion, and oyster mushrooms go in and soak it up. The style traces back to the gopchang alleys of Euljiro and Majang-dong in Seoul, and a pot like this is usually shared over soju, with perilla leaves added at the end for fragrance.
A whole pollack roe sac (myeongnan) sits in the pot intact, so the outside firms up while the eggs inside stay separate and pop when you bite them. The heat drops to low as soon as the broth returns to a boil; a hard boil breaks the roe apart and dulls that texture. Since the roe is already salty, the stew often needs nothing more, and the broth with pieces of roe is good spooned over rice.
Salted tiny shrimp (saeujeot) season the eggs instead of salt, and anchovy stock gives them savory depth. Cooked slowly in an earthenware pot (ttukbaegi) over low heat with a gentle stir through the middle, it comes out soft and puffed, nothing like the glassy-smooth custard of Japanese chawanmushi.