1880 Korean recipes. Page 8 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Korean Sea Breeze Herb Shrimp Stir-fry.
Between the slightly bitter bangpung namul, a spring green also called sea breeze herb, and the sweetness of shrimp seasoned with mirin, the dish needs little more than a tablespoon of soy sauce. The spring leaves are thin, so they go in last with the soy and come off the heat while still bright green.
Rice flour dough mixed with boiling water ends up as soft as an earlobe, easy to gather around a cube of mozzarella. Each ball is then rolled between the palms until the seam disappears; any gap left is where the melted cheese escapes in the oil.
Big chunks of sweet potato are fried until fluffy inside and tossed in a sugar and corn syrup glaze with a little soy sauce, which leaves a faint saltiness after the sweetness. The potatoes go in when the syrup throws up large bubbles and are coated within 30 seconds, which means timing the frying to finish just as the syrup is ready.
A green layer sits at the bottom of the glass with sparkling water above it. The base is barley sprout powder stirred into apple juice with lemon juice, and it is only lightly sweetened; the grassy barley taste comes through clearly.
Paper-thin brisket striped with fat and lean cooks in seconds over high heat, its fat melting almost at once as the edges curl and crisp. No marinade is used. The slices go into a sesame oil and salt dip, or into a lettuce wrap spread with doenjang ssamjang. Between just right and dried out there is very little time, and overcooked slices lose their fat and turn chewy.
There is kimchi in this soup but no chili flakes, so the broth stays clear while the sourness of white kimchi and its brine works its way into the clam stock. The clams come out as they open, and the stock is strained through a fine sieve before the kimchi goes in. If the kimchi is salty, the salt is left out.
Burdock root cut into matchsticks is mixed with onion cut the same width, and the batter only coats the outside of the strips. A little tempura flour in the pancake mix crisps the edges almost as if they were deep-fried, while the burdock keeps its crunch.
Okara, the soybean pulp, drinks up the broth and cooks down almost to the thickness of porridge. Pork and sour kimchi are fried in perilla oil first, and salted shrimp seasons the pot at the end. Okara sinks and catches on the bottom; through the 20-plus minutes of gentle simmering, the pot needs frequent scraping.
Monkfish stomach has a dense, springy chew that ordinary fish fillet lacks, and each bite releases more of the spicy-savory glaze. Most of the work is in the cleaning: if the slime is not scrubbed off with salt and flour, the blanching water smells strong and so does the dish. With only a little water in the pot, the gochugaru sauce reduces to a thick red coating.
Cubes of white radish take on the beet's color and, after about a day, turn an even pink all the way through. More beet means a deeper color and a sweeter pickle.
Jjolmyeon noodles have a rubbery, teeth-resisting chew, and topping them with tender soy-and-sugar marinated beef sets up a sharp contrast in texture. The gochujang and vinegar sauce adds spicy, sour notes that cut the bulgogi's sweetness. Shredded cabbage and carrot bring crunch, while a halved boiled egg tempers the chili.
Gochujang, Korean red chili paste, is fried briefly first so its sweet, fermented heat sits underneath the tomato in this beef ragu. The flavor base comes from ground beef left untouched until it browns and sticks, then red wine scraped across the pan to dissolve those browned bits. Wide rigatoni tubes fill with the thick sauce and carry bits of meat inside each piece.
Cheongpomuk, a soft, translucent jelly made from mung bean starch, is cut into batons and tossed in chojang, Korean sweet-and-sour chili sauce. Crisp apple, cucumber, and red cabbage play against the jelly's smooth, bouncy texture, and the apple's sweetness rounds off the chili heat.
Gyeran-ppang, the egg bread sold at Korean street stalls, adapts neatly to a muffin tin: a lightly sweet batter fills each cup halfway, and a whole egg cracked on top bakes into it as the batter rises around it. Chopped ham and scallions add a salty, savory layer to the sweet bread.
No heat touches the garlic chives: they are simply tossed with soy sauce, vinegar and gochugaru. Pressing or squeezing draws water out of the stems, so the tossing is a light lift for no more than 20 seconds, and the dish is served right away or within five minutes.
The shiitake and onion are minced fine and sautéed in sesame oil before the rice goes in, so the mushroom flavor runs through every spoonful without chewy bits. It's a mild porridge, seasoned with just a little soy sauce and pepper.
Canned silkworm pupae are rinsed, drained and stir-fried until soy sauce and chili flakes cook down into a thin glaze on the outside. In Korea this is a drinking snack, and the firm yet slightly yielding bite sets it apart from fish cake or tofu.
The chicken breast is cut small, so each piece is mostly crust. After two rounds in the oil it gets a quick roll in a soy and oligosaccharide glaze, just enough for a sweet-salty coat without losing the crunch.
Dried persimmons are split along one side, opened flat, and rolled around cream cheese mixed with honey and lemon juice, plus coarsely chopped walnuts. After 20 minutes wrapped in the fridge, each slice shows a round of white cream and walnut inside the chewy fruit. If the persimmons have dried hard, five minutes in a damp paper towel keeps them from tearing as they are opened.
Roasted barley carries the toasty flavor, while corn silk and halved jujubes add a soft sweetness in the background. Darker color is not the goal: longer boiling pulls bitterness from the barley, so the tea comes off the heat once it turns light brown and then rests covered to finish infusing.
Tofu is browned on both sides, then a soy sauce with chopped hot green chili, garlic and a little sugar is spooned over and reduced for a minute or two. The tofu itself stays mild; the salty gloss and the sharp chili bite all come from the sauce.
It is a doenjang soup, but with less doenjang than usual. The clams are already salty, and too much paste would bury their flavor. A little zucchini and tofu round out the pot.
Long green onions cut to the length of the pan form the base layer here, with squid, shrimp and mussel meat on top and only enough thin batter to fill the gaps. Unlike a pajeon where batter covers everything, the scallions carry the structure, and each slice shows stacked layers of onion and shellfish.
With no chili, only soup soy sauce for seasoning, the broth stays clear and the clean taste of the puffer fish comes through. The garlic is kept to a minimum for the same reason. Use only professionally cleaned puffer fish from a verified supply chain.