1880 Korean recipes. Page 54 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Korean Cinnamon Persimmon Punch, Korean Grilled Soy-Doenjang Pork.
It needs a night in the fridge, about twelve hours, so make it the day before. Cinnamon sticks and ginger go down to low heat with the lid on as soon as the water boils; a hard boil makes the punch bitter. The dried persimmon is not added ahead of time but floated in each cup, where it soaks up the punch and softens as you drink.
Seasoned with doenjang instead of gochujang, this pork neck tastes savory and fermented rather than hot or sweet. The basting portion of the marinade is set aside before any of it touches raw meat. At 1.5 cm thick, the slices can look browned well before the center is done, and a thermometer makes the final call.
When the drinking table runs short of snacks, this soup is ready almost as soon as the water boils. Pour the egg in along a chopstick while the broth is only gently bubbling, and it spreads out into fine threads.
Well-fermented sour kimchi is cut without shaking off its seasoning, so that paste goes into the broth too, and it simmers with pork shoulder that has a good streak of fat before thick slices of tofu go on at the end.
On drying racks in Gangwon-do, pollock freezes and thaws dozens of times over the winter to become hwangtae, and the flesh ends up full of sponge-like pores. Braised in soy sauce with gochujang, it takes the salty-sweet seasoning in through those pores, all the way to the middle rather than just on the surface.
Thick, fibrous radish green stems grip the seasoning and keep their chew long after the leaves soften. The stems get a ten-minute head start in the salt before the leaves join them, so both end up evenly seasoned. Cooled glutinous rice paste holds the chili mixture in place as the kimchi ripens, and sliced onion tempers the heat with sweetness. Longer cold fermentation softens the fibers and deepens the sour aroma, which makes older batches good for chopping into doenjang stew or soup.
Thick red bean broth, salted first and only lightly sweetened, turns knife-cut wheat noodles into a filling winter meal rather than a dessert. The beans are boiled twice, with the first water thrown out entirely, which strips their astringent edge and gives the broth a cleaner color. Glutinous rice flour thickens the strained puree just enough to hold the noodles without turning stodgy, and the pot needs frequent stirring because the bottom scorches easily. Cooking the noodles in a separate pot and rinsing them keeps their starch from thinning or clouding the broth. Chestnuts and pine nuts on top add a firmer bite against the smooth puree.
The squid comes out of the boiling water after 2 to 3 minutes, once the flesh turns opaque white and curls a little. Left in a pile, it keeps cooking in its own heat and toughens, which is why the pieces are spread out to cool. The body is cut into rings and served with chogochujang (vinegared chili paste) before it gets too cold.
There is no separate sauce here. Unsalted butter melts into the hot rice, shredded jangjorim (soy-braised beef) goes on top, and its braising liquid is spooned over a little at a time until the seasoning tastes right. An egg yolk and crushed roasted seaweed finish the bowl, and with jangjorim already in the fridge it comes together in about 15 minutes.
Made in spring with webfoot octopus (jjukkumi) full of roe, each bite comes with little pops. The octopus is rubbed hard with coarse salt to strip its slime, blanched briefly, coated in gochujang sauce and stir-fried over high heat in under two minutes.
Seared tripe, briefly warmed sundae (Korean blood sausage), and cabbage that keeps some bite all share one pan, each with a different chew. Equal parts gochujang and gochugaru make the heat unmistakable.
Rice pressed into the bottom of a pot until it forms a golden crust, then simmered with water, brown rice, and glutinous rice, gives a cloudy, toasty grain drink. Everything depends on how far the crust goes: golden means nutty depth, but any burnt patch spreads bitterness through the whole pot.
Pork makchang is boiled once before cleaning and blanched for another 7 minutes after. The gochujang marinade works into its wrinkled surface, and slow cooking over medium heat turns it into a sticky brown glaze. The blanching does not finish the cooking; the thick parts stay on until they pass 71°C, and then it is snipped with scissors and served with perilla leaves or shredded green onion.
Pork spine bones simmer for about two hours into a cloudy, rich stock, then blanched cabbage greens (ugeoji) rubbed with doenjang and chili join the pot for an earthy, spicy depth. Cubes of seonji, congealed blood, are added near the end and warmed by ladling broth over them rather than stirring, so they hold their shape.
Mackerel or beltfish both work for this spicy fish stew. The radish gets a five-minute head start, then the fish pieces are laid in a single layer and simmered with the lid slightly open to let the fishy steam escape.
The eel is steamed once with a splash of rice wine, and only after the flesh has turned white and given up some of its fat is the soy glaze brushed on for a second round. Brushed onto flesh that has lost some of its fat, the glaze settles in and sets glossy. In Korea it is a common dish for the bok days at the height of summer.
Radish sprouts are so thin that any pressure squeezes out water and a grassy smell, which keeps the tossing down to about 20 seconds with the fingertips, and the vinegar is added last for a brighter tang. Eaten right away, before the sprouts wilt, it is light and crisp; leftovers keep, chilled and sealed, for a day or two.
Starch from sliced potato simmered first gives the broth its base body, leaving the perilla seed powder added near the end only to finish it. The result is a light, nutty soup that clings thinly to the noodles. Fresh kalguksu noodles go straight into the pot, and stirring right away is the main guard against a clumped, stuck mass.
Fine, tangled parae hides a lot of sand, and it is washed through five or more changes of water until nothing settles at the bottom of the bowl. Ten seconds in boiling water is all the cooking it gets. The gochujang, vinegar and sugar dressing goes in over two or three additions; pour it all at once and the thin strands clump.
Brisket and thin slices of radish are stir-fried in sesame oil before any water is added, which lays a nutty base under the chili-red broth of this market-style beef soup. Blanched outer cabbage leaves (ugeoji) soak up the broth and turn silky over the long simmer.
The chili sauce looks too thick, but no water goes in: the octopus releases its own liquid as it cooks and loosens it. The pork belly is browned in the pan first, and the octopus joins it over high heat for just a minute or two.
Without the tripe of sundae-gopchang-bokkeum, this stir-fry leans on cabbage, onion, and scallion for a lighter plate. The vegetables are cut thick so they still have bite after cooking, and soy sauce in the gochujang glaze makes it as salty as it is spicy.
Cooked corn kernels are sautéed in butter for about two minutes, simmered in milk and blended fine. However smooth the blend looks, the corn skins survive it, so the latte goes through a fine sieve once before it feels silky. White pepper goes in only in the smallest amount, and super-sweet corn gives a more natural sweetness.
Garlic scapes stay tough if they go into the pan raw. So they spend just 30 seconds in boiling water, get rinsed in cold water right away, and then cook with the gochujang sauce in a pan for about 3 minutes. Done, they bend easily but still snap when you bite.