1880 Korean recipes. Page 6 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Korean Clam Stir-Fry (Manila Clams with Butter, Garlic and Chili).
A splash of cheongju (Korean rice wine) under a lid opens the clams, then butter goes in, and the clam juices and butter run together into a salty sauce in the bottom of the pan. Whatever is left gets mopped up with bread. The clams bring their own salt, so the soy sauce stops at a teaspoon, and any clam that stays shut is thrown out.
Glutinous rice dough sinks to the bottom of the oil at first and only puffs up and floats a little later. Until it rises, leave it alone. The shell is thin and crisp, the inside stretches like rice cake, and the sugar goes on once they have cooled to warm.
Roasted soybean powder, black sesame and pine nut powder are bound with honey alone and pressed into a carved dasik mold. No heat is used at any point. A piece holds firm for a moment, then loosens as it warms in the mouth, releasing a nutty, toasty smell, and its mild sweetness sits well beside bitter green tea.
A few salt-pickled cherry blossoms floated on top leave a faint saltiness and a floral note at the end of this sweet milk tea. The blossoms soak in cold water for only five minutes to lose some salt; any longer and the scent goes too. Cream and vanilla bean paste added to the milk make it heavier than an everyday milk tea.
The soy and honey glaze goes on in two rounds, so the bollak, a small Korean rockfish, comes out with a dark, glossy brown skin. The fish is lean and dries out quickly, so keep the grilling short.
Midwinter napa cabbage grows sweeter the more cold it weathers, and simmered from cold water with radish it sweetens the broth with no separate stock. The oysters go in last for a minute or two, and since they bring plenty of salt, the soy sauce stays light.
Well-aged sour kimchi, garlic chives and thinly sliced cheongyang chili go into a batter that also takes 40 ml of kimchi brine, which turns it red before it ever reaches the pan.
Clams and seaweed go into a base broth of simmered radish, and with no meat in the pot, the clams carry the flavor. Their briny savoriness and the sea smell of the miyeok layer up in the same pot.
This bulgogi never goes over a flame. It simmers down in its marinade in a wide pan and comes to the table still juicy, with about half the liquid left. Soy sauce is the only seasoning, no gochujang or doenjang, in the inland North Gyeongsang manner, and in Andong it has long been set out in its pan at ancestral rites and family gatherings for everyone to serve themselves.
Halved Brussels sprouts hold their structure through salting, and each bite gives a firm crunch and a little sweetness. Score the stem ends no deeper than 5 mm or the leaves fall apart, and give strongly bitter sprouts an extra 5 minutes in the brine.
With only gochujang, vinegar and sugar in the dressing, this bunsik-shop noodle dish lives on the texture of the noodles. A thorough cold rinse is what makes sweet potato glass noodles springy, because any warmth left after draining keeps them softening until they stick into a clump. The dressing keeps in the fridge, but the noodles should meet it only just before eating, or they soak it up and turn soft.
There is no cream here and no added salt; the butter sauce is seasoned with doenjang, a Korean fermented soybean paste, and Parmesan. Most of the flavor comes from button mushrooms left alone in the pan until their edges brown.
Napa cabbage seared hard on its cut sides turns smoky-sweet on the surface while the core stays crisp. Gamtae, a fine, hair-like Korean seaweed sold in dried sheets, is crumbled over the warm wedges for a delicate ocean aroma, and the salad is best eaten while the cabbage is still warm and the seaweed still crackles.
Toasted puffed rice and sesame seeds, the core of gangjeong (Korean puffed-rice and seed sweets), are folded into a brown-sugar cookie dough. A little glutinous rice flour in with the wheat lets the dough spread thin, and the baked cookies crumble lightly when bitten.
Amaranth greens, their tough stem ends snapped off one by one with the fingers, are blanched for under a minute, squeezed hard and dressed with doenjang, soup soy sauce and perilla oil.
There are only three fillings: dried gourd strips simmered in soy sauce and corn syrup, egg ribbons, and yellow pickled radish. The gourd turns sweet, salty and chewy, but any braising liquid left on it soaks the rice and laver once rolled. The heat goes up at the end until only a glaze, no liquid, is left in the pan.
Firm bottle gourd is sliced thin, salted briefly, stir-fried, and then finished covered with a splash of water. When it is done, the edges turn translucent and a chopstick slides in easily. Garlic and green onion are the only aromatics, which keeps the gourd's mild flavor up front.
This yeasted dough uses more glutinous rice flour than bread flour, which gives the inside a stretchy, chewy pull that plain wheat donuts lack. Rolled in cinnamon sugar straight from the fryer, the donuts melt a little of the sugar with their own heat, leaving a thin crust that follows every turn of the twist.
Juak trace back to Gaeseong in the Goryeo period and still appear on Korean wedding tables. Small rounds of glutinous rice dough, each pressed with a thumb to leave a dip in the middle, cook through at 150 degrees before the oil goes up to 170 for a light brown color, then roll in warm honey and rice syrup for a glossy coat.
Sparkling water poured down the side of the glass settles over the deep purple black raspberry base in two layers. Frozen berries are tucked in among the ice cubes. Lime juice and honey are fully mixed into the concentrate before any soda goes in, or the sweetness all collects at the bottom.
Grated Korean pear does two jobs in this marinade: its enzymes soften the thin slices of sirloin, and its sugars meet the soy sauce to form the sweet, salty gloss that bulgogi is recognized by. Whether that gloss forms depends on the pan. When all the beef goes into the pan at once, the temperature drops and the meat stews in its own liquid, turning gray and chewy instead of browning at the edges. Onion and scallion marinate alongside the beef and soak up the same seasoning. Spoon it over rice or wrap it in lettuce.
No anchovy or kelp stock here, just the liquor from the clams and the sweetness of napa cabbage, so the soup tastes clean and gentle. That also means any leftover grit has nowhere to hide, which is why the clams need a thorough soak beforehand.
There is more shrimp than chives here, 200 g of it, and it is chopped coarsely with a knife so every bite still has some snap. Two eggs in the batter hold all that shrimp together when the pancake is flipped.
Shiitake stays chewy, oyster mushrooms go soft and silky, and enoki keeps a light crunch: three textures in one doenjang stew. The mushrooms go in equal amounts but not all at once. Shiitake and oyster simmer first to flavor the anchovy broth, and enoki joins near the end so it does not collapse. The doenjang is pressed through a sieve so the broth stays smooth rather than gritty.