1880 Korean recipes. Page 55 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Korean Seafood Scorched Rice Soup, Mixed Korean Army-Style Stew.
Hard scorched rice dropped into hot seafood broth starts out crisp, turns chewy, and if left a while longer softens into something like porridge. It goes into each bowl at the table rather than into the pot, and how long you wait decides which version you eat.
Kimchi, ham, and tofu, all common refrigerator staples, come together into something close to a pared-down budae jjigae. Frying the kimchi for 2 minutes first tames its sourness so it blends with the salty ham and the sweet heat of gochujang instead of competing.
Steamed in the shell with only green onion and ginger beneath it, abalone keeps its sea-sweet aroma, with seasoning limited to a little soy sauce, rice wine and sesame oil spooned over afterward. A shallow crosshatch on the thick side lets heat reach the center so the edges do not toughen while the middle catches up.
The salt is kept at twenty percent of the anchovy weight, and the jar stays in the fridge for the whole cure. The jar stays shut until brine rises over the fish, and only then do garlic, ginger, chili flakes, and rice wine go in, their aroma sitting on top of an already mellowed, salty base. A little stirred into kimchi paste adds savory depth, and a spoonful over hot rice works as a side dish on its own.
Fish cake simmered right in the broth, a heap of dried seaweed flakes, and sliced scallions: this bowl recreates the udon sold at Korean street stalls, known as pojangmacha. The fish cake stays in for only about 5 minutes, since much longer leaves it soft and limp. The broth is a quick homemade dashi of kombu and bonito flakes, seasoned with both soup soy sauce and regular soy sauce for a balance of savoriness and color, plus a little sugar to round off the soy. The bonito flakes steep off the heat without stirring, which keeps the dashi clear. The soup stays clear because frozen udon is only blanched in a separate pot and placed in the bowl first, with the broth brought back to a rolling boil and poured over.
Ground perilla seed turns into a thin, nutty coating on each strand of bracken fern. The perilla oil is split in two: half goes into the raw seasoning so the soy and garlic soak into the chewy fibers, and the other half carries the green onion's aroma in the pan.
Pine nuts ground smooth with water turn plain rice porridge rich and silky. That pine nut liquid goes in after the rice has simmered on its own for about 10 minutes, and salt is the only seasoning. A few strips of jujube on top add a little sweetness and color.
Fresh bamboo shoots are only around for a short season in spring, so most of the year this banchan is made with canned or vacuum-packed shoots. Fresh ones need at least 30 minutes of simmering in rice-rinsing water to remove their acrid bite; canned ones need a thorough rinse to lose their tinny smell. Soy sauce and garlic keep the seasoning light, and the point is crunch: cooked too long, the shoots dry out and toughen.
Glutinous rice dough is wrapped around mozzarella and fried, with sweet chili sauce on the side. The shell is thin and crisp, and past a chewy layer the cheese pulls into long strands.
Burdock root, sliced thin with its skin on and dry-roasted until it browns, gives this tea its toasty aroma. The slicing matters as much as the roasting: thick slices hold their flavor back.
Minuh, a Korean brown croaker, has enough savory depth that coarse salt and white pepper are all it needs. With a whisper of flour and left undisturbed skin side down, the skin crisps lightly. It is at its best in July and August, but frozen fillets grill up the same way.
With no chili paste or doenjang, only salt, garlic and scallion, the broth tastes of nothing but the clams, shrimp and squid. Each bowl holds open clam shells, curled red shrimp and white rings of squid.
The blood curd (seonji) is cut in large pieces, so every spoonful catches a soft chunk, and the broth, with ugeoji (outer napa cabbage leaves) and soybean sprouts, is earthy and spicy. Haejang refers to easing a hangover, and this is what people reach for the morning after drinking.
Gizzard shad, a small fish at its fattiest in autumn, stays moist even when braised in a soy and gochugaru sauce. Three deep scores along the back let the sauce reach the thick part of the fish without a long cook. Thick slices of radish packed across the bottom of the pot keep the fish from scorching and turn sweet as they soak up the sauce; the thicker the slices, the sweeter they get. Basting with a spoon takes the place of flipping, which would break the delicate flesh apart. The reduced sauce left in the pot is spooned over steamed rice.
Brine poured after only three minutes off the boil lightly blanches the surface of the alpine leek leaves, keeping them bright green while the inside stays raw and garlicky. With soy sauce and vinegar at equal volumes, neither salt nor sourness dominates once the leaves soak through. Each leaf is washed front and back and dried flat, since grit left on a single one turns the whole jar bitter. The finished leaves are mostly used to wrap grilled meat.
Rabokki adds instant ramen noodles to tteokbokki, the chewy rice cakes simmered in a sweet, spicy gochujang sauce. The rice cakes simmer alone for 5 minutes to soften, and the ramen and fish cakes follow for just 3, because the noodles soak up sauce fast; by the time they are cooked, the sauce has reduced to a thick glaze. Plenty of water at the start allows for that absorption. Half a packet of the ramen seasoning deepens the savoriness, and a layer of cheese turns it into cheese rabokki. Boiled eggs and green onion finish the pot, which is best eaten right away before the noodles swell.
Shiitake cut into thick slices soak up a soy and syrup glaze until the outside turns glossy brown and the inside stays chewy. The braise stops before the pan goes dry, while the sauce still coats a spoon lightly; reduced all the way, it starts to scorch. Sesame oil goes in after the heat is off, and a few minutes of cooling lets the glaze soak in further.
The abalone innards are fried with the rice in sesame oil, tinting the whole porridge a pale green. How green it gets, and how much it tastes of the sea, depends on how fresh those innards are, and that is decided when the abalone is bought. An egg yolk sits in the center of each bowl.
Bamboo shoots sliced thinly across the grain stay crisp and outweigh the beef, and the dish eats more like a vegetable stir-fry with soy-marinated meat running through it. Beef round is very lean and toughens quickly, which is why the meat is seared briefly, lifted out, and only returned for a final toss once the bamboo has cooked down on its own.
Half sausage and half mozzarella on one stick, so a bite at the seam gets salt and a long cheese pull at once. Cooked, cooled sweet potato cubes and breadcrumbs are pressed into the pancake batter before frying, leaving the outside knobbly and sweet in patches.
Ripe watermelon blended and passed through a fine sieve loses its fiber and small seeds, leaving a clean, light juice sharpened with lime and lifted by soda water. Half the mint is pulsed in for a few seconds and the rest floats on top, so the drink smells of mint both in the glass and above it.
Minced garlic warms in olive oil over low heat until it turns pale gold, and only then does the heat go up for the boiled octopus. Three to four minutes in the pan browns the edges while the pieces stay springy. Paprika powder in place of the chili flakes makes a milder version.
Blue crabs go in shell and all, turning red as they cook and flavoring the radish broth, and with cheongyang chilies for heat the pot goes in the middle of the table for everyone to dip into.
There is no chili anywhere in this tofu stew. Garlic and onion soften for a minute in a teaspoon of perilla oil, the stock goes in, and a tablespoon of soup soy sauce is all the seasoning it gets. Spinach is added at the very end, and the heat goes off while it is still bright green.