135 recipes. Page 4 of 6
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Five minutes in a hot pan turns sour, wet kimchi into something sweeter and more savory, as the moisture cooks off and the edges darken. The pan has to be hot enough that the kimchi sizzles on contact; otherwise it steams in its own liquid.
Slippery strips of acorn jelly (dotorimuk, a firm, mild starch jelly) sit over rice in an ice-cold broth of kimchi juice and water, with chopped kimchi in the middle for crunch. Sesame oil tossed through the rice and a scattering of seaweed flakes give a nutty, toasty note that cold broth would otherwise lack. Apart from the rice, nothing needs cooking, which makes it a summer bowl.
Pork belly cut into 1 cm pieces renders enough fat to fry the kimchi and rice, so no cooking oil is added and every grain tastes of pork. That only works if the pork gets 4 to 5 minutes, until the edges are golden and the fat coats the pan.
Perilla oil and kkaennip (perilla leaves) both come from the same plant, so one bowl carries the toasty smell of the seed and the fresh, minty smell of the leaf. The egg is cooked soft in butter and folded in.
Half sheets of seaweed are spread with a very thin layer of rice and rolled tightly around just three fillings: yellow pickled radish, spinach, and carrot. The result is a slim roll that cuts into small coins, each one a single bite. Carrot is stir-fried only until it wilts so it keeps some crunch and sweetness, and the spinach is blanched briefly, squeezed dry, and dressed with sesame oil.
Even the liquid from the can of mackerel pike (kkongchi, a Pacific saury) goes in, two tablespoons of it, adding the taste of the fish to the kimchi sauce. Once the fish is in, the spatula splits it only two or three times, and it still sits on the rice in large chunks.
Soy-braised beef, torn along the grain, goes over rice with whole shishito-style peppers (kkwari gochu) and enough of the glossy braising liquid to mix through. The peppers simmer whole for just 6 minutes, long enough to wilt without going limp, and keep a mild heat.
Young soybean leaves have a fresh, grassy aroma that sits well against gangdoenjang, a thick, salty soybean paste here cooked down with shiitake, onion, and garlic until it barely moves. That thickness is the point: a runny paste loosens the rice and leaks out of the leaf. The amount of rice is matched to each leaf, since they vary in size, and the parcels are set seam side down so they hold until serving.
Bean sprouts simmer uncovered in anchovy stock for just 5 to 6 minutes, long enough to drive off their raw, grassy smell but short enough to keep them crunchy. This is the Jeonju style of kongnamul gukbap, a sprout soup poured over rice. An egg is slipped in whole rather than beaten, and it is ready when the white has set around a still-soft yolk. Seaweed flakes and a pinch of chili flakes go on top, and in Korea it is a common hangover meal.
Rice, then a beef patty, onion gravy and a soft fried egg: the Hawaiian bowl is built in that order. The gravy starts in the pan the patties came out of, with butter and the rest of the onion scraping up the browned juices before flour and Worcestershire sauce go in. The yolk gets broken and stirred through with the gravy.
Keep the fat that renders from the ground pork, because the onion cooks in it next and needs time to turn deeply golden; rushing that stage leaves the sauce pale. During the low simmer, the sauce is ready for the peeled eggs once it has thickened and the pork looks glossy, and the eggs stay in until their surface turns deep brown. Spoon both meat and sauce over the rice so the liquid soaks into the grains.
Garlic scapes, a spring vegetable, keep their sharp garlicky smell and firm snap even when stir-fried. Here they cook briefly over high heat with thin slices of pork shoulder in a gochujang sauce and go onto the rice while still crunchy, along with every bit of sauce scraped from the pan.
Once the salt-blanched tofu is in the doubanjiang sauce, the spatula is put away and only the pan gets shaken, which keeps the cubes square all the way to the rice. A sprinkle of Sichuan pepper at the end pushes it toward a proper mala taste.
Each sheet of gim (roasted seaweed) is cut into four, and the rolls come out about the size of a finger, filled with little more than carrot, spinach and a strip of egg. The seasoning comes from a dip of mustard, soy sauce, vinegar and sugar, and the sharp kick of the mustard keeps hands reaching for one more.
The sea squirt goes on last, over rice already topped with cucumber and lettuce, and everything is turned over with the vinegared gochujang only a few broad times right before eating. The longer it is mixed, the more of its briny aroma is lost. Even drying the rinsed sea squirt is gentle: a paper towel pressed on top, never rubbed.
This oyakodon, chicken thigh and onion simmered in dashi, soy and mirin and set with egg, gets a handful of mitsuba at the very end. The lid goes on for twenty seconds before the heat goes off; any longer and the herb's parsley-like scent is gone.
Oyster mushrooms torn along the grain chew pleasantly between the slices of beef, stretching the dish and making it lighter than beef alone. The sweetness in the marinade is gentle, since it comes from pear juice.
The butter is split in two: half to cook the pollock roe for just a minute, half to melt over the hot rice. The roe comes off the heat the moment its color brightens, while the eggs still pop.
Because it starts from cooked rice simmered in anchovy stock rather than raw grains, this porridge comes together much faster. The pollock roe breaks apart into the broth, tinting it pink and spreading its salty, savory flavor through the pot. Eggs poured into a rolling boil seize into rough clumps, but drizzled in at a gentle simmer they set into soft curds.
The octopus gets two minutes over high heat, and the rice goes in as soon as it starts to curl. That leaves no time to mix sauce in the pan; it is stirred smooth before the burner is lit. For less heat, the chili flakes are dropped and gochujang used alone.
Two cheongyang chilies and a tablespoon of chili flakes make this properly hot. The octopus is tipped over the rice with all the loose sauce left in the pan, and bean sprouts can go down on the rice first for a crunchy layer underneath.
The flying fish roe stays in the fridge until the moment of rolling; once it warms up, the skins slacken and the eggs stop popping. Inside there is only a thin line of mayonnaise and cucumber, and a little more roe goes on the cut faces.
Kecap manis, Indonesia's thick sweet soy sauce, coats each grain of cold rice in a glossy brown layer. Shrimp paste and sambal are fried first until the oil turns red, and the rice tastes salty and hot as well as sweet. On top goes a fried egg with crisp edges and a soft yolk.
Hot green tea is poured over rice topped with grilled salmon and laver flakes just before eating. As the salmon and soy sauce seep into the tea, the broth gets richer, and the wasabi on the side changes the heat each time a little more is stirred in. Some pour dashi instead of tea, or swap the salmon for umeboshi (pickled plum) or pollock roe.