1880 Korean recipes. Page 9 of 79. Compare ingredients and cooking times. Korean Soy-Braised Dotted Gizzard Shad with Radish, Beet Water Kimchi.
Dotted gizzard shad (baendaengi) has fine, soft bones that soften further in the braise, so the fish is eaten bones and all. It is layered with onion over a bed of radish and braised in a gochujang and soy sauce for close to half an hour.
Even a small amount of beet stains the broth red. The radish portion is kept the larger one, since a jar where beet outweighs radish turns muddy and dark. Both are cut into the same thin, flat pieces so a spoonful picks up some of each. The liquid drawn out during salting is added to the jar rather than poured away. Pear juice brings sweetness, sliced garlic and ginger bring aroma, and a cooled rice-flour porridge gives the broth body. A good stir after adding the salt water keeps that porridge from settling on the bottom. It sits out for a day before moving to the fridge.
Chewy and clear, sweet-potato glass noodles grab the gochujang-soy sauce tightly and bring a vivid sweet-spicy hit with every lift of the chopsticks. The dish comes from street food sold in Busan's markets, and it is quick: boil the noodles, then toss them with briefly stir-fried vegetables, fish cake, and the sauce. Fish cake adds a soft savory note against the springy noodles, while cabbage and carrot, cooked only until just bent, keep some crunch.
Sweet corn sautéed in butter takes the edge off the gochujang, so the cream sauce leans sweet and mellow rather than fiery. Gochujang and cheese already carry salt, so any extra salt waits until the sauce has been tasted. Cavatappi, the corkscrew pasta, traps corn kernels in its coils, and the noodles and corn end up in the same bite.
Chia seeds soaked in lemon juice and water swell into soft, jelly-coated beads that pop gently through a yuja citrus dressing. Silken tofu gets no seasoning of its own and relies on the dressing's tangy sweetness and touch of soy, which means each spoonful should hold both tofu and dressing. Left in the fridge for about 30 minutes after mixing, the chia dressing turns noticeably chewier.
Black sesame paste turns the crumb a dark gray and adds a roasted, nutty taste between the coarse grains of cornmeal. Only a little doenjang (Korean fermented soybean paste) is stirred in, not enough to taste of doenjang itself, just enough to leave a salty, savory base underneath.
Cedrela shoots are dressed only with soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil, keeping the seasoning plain so the aroma of the young shoots stays in front. Trimming a little extra from the lower stems, which are much thicker than the tender tips, lets the whole shoot cook evenly in just 40 seconds of blanching.
The silken tofu here stays in big, soft spoonfuls instead of dissolving into the rice. It goes in only once the porridge is done and is barely stirred after that. The rice and shiitake are first toasted in perilla oil, then simmered in kelp stock.
Oyster mushrooms torn along the grain come apart in thin strands, while shiitake cut 5 mm thick have a fuller chew. Whether the mushrooms were rinsed matters less than whether they go into the pan wet or piled in layers.
Instead of broth, these small boiled dumplings get a tangy dressing of soy sauce, vinegar and chili oil that clings to their thin wrappers. Mini dumplings tear easily, so the sauce is spooned on top and the dumplings are turned gently rather than tossed.
These plain glutinous rice balls have no filling: half are rolled in pale roasted soybean powder and half in black sesame powder, with honey on the side for dipping. The dough calls for dry-milled glutinous rice flour. Wet-milled flour or regular rice flour will not take the same amount of water, and the chew changes too.
Chamoe, the small yellow Korean melon, is blended with plain yogurt and milk into a cool, slightly tangy yellow smoothie. The seeds and the watery flesh around them are scraped out first, and the ice goes in only at the end, after the flavor is set, to keep the drink from thinning.
Because the corn is boiled or microwaved first, the grill is only there for color: a butter, soy and sugar sauce brushed on as the cob turns, until the kernels catch caramelized brown spots.
A generous handful of minari, Korean water parsley, goes into this clam broth, and its fresh green smell reaches you before the spoon does. There is no separate stock: the clams and sliced garlic simply start in cold water.
Canned tuna and aged kimchi go in by equal weight with only a small amount of pancake batter, and the filling, not the flour, is what comes through first. The tuna is pressed in a strainer right after the can is opened to get the oil out.
Kimchi goes down first, then Spam, sausages, tofu and rice cakes are laid over it in neat rows by type, with the seasoning paste piled in the middle. The water is poured in around the edge rather than the center to keep those rows in place.
The butter waits until the clams have opened. Added then, it blends with the clam juices into a glossy broth, while butter added at the start just floats as a slick of fat. Soju is boiled hard first to drive off the alcohol smell, and any clam that stays shut after cooking gets thrown away.
Chewy shiitake caps and meaty strips of king oyster mushroom hold their chew through days in a garlicky soy, vinegar and sugar brine with dried chili. Cutting both to a similar thickness lets them season at the same pace. One minute of blanching is enough. Any longer and the mushrooms turn soft and watery. Squeezing them firmly afterward matters more than the blanch itself, since leftover water dilutes the brine.
Refugees who reached Busan during the Korean War began making these noodles from wheat flour in place of naengmyeon, and milmyeon became the city's summer noodle. The noodles are softer than naengmyeon, with a moderate chew; the usual way is to sip the ice-edged beef broth first, then cut the noodles with scissors. That chew comes from plunging them into cold water the moment they are drained and rubbing off the starch. The gochujang is loosened with a little cold broth beforehand so it spreads without lumps. Spooned into the center, it melts a spicy kick into the cold broth, and cucumber and Korean pear add crunch and sweetness.
Gochujang stirred into cream and milk, with no tomato involved, makes an orange sauce where the heat arrives slowly behind the cream. Brands of gochujang differ in saltiness, so start small and taste before adding more.
Korean garlic chives (buchu) are far sharper and more pungent than Western chives, and this side dish keeps them raw to hold on to that bite. Doenjang, a fermented soybean paste, clings to the flat leaves so every mouthful carries its salty depth, while vinegar lightens the finish and chili flakes leave a gentle heat. A 30-second rinse in cold water is enough, and longer soaking dulls the aroma. It is made right before the meal and belongs next to a bowl of rice.
Hobak-bokkeum, the stir-fried Korean zucchini usually served as a side dish, goes onto buttery pie dough with the edges folded up roughly around it. Pea-sized bits of cold butter left in the dough make that folded rim bake up flaky, while in the middle mozzarella melts over the zucchini and onion. Top it with a fried egg for brunch, or cut it thin to go with a glass of white wine.
Chamnamul pairs soft leaves with crisp stems, and the whole method aims to keep both after blanching. Cut to 5 cm, a stem and its leaves come up together in one pinch of chopsticks, and the dish goes to the table at room temperature while the stems still snap.
Spinach, bean sprouts, carrot and zucchini are each cooked on their own rather than tossed together, which keeps their textures distinct even after everything is mixed. Blanched greens that are not squeezed dry leave the rice soggy.