1421 recipes. Page 19 of 60
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Young bok choy leaves spend just over a minute on high heat, enough to char the tips lightly. The garlic goes in first over low heat to scent the oil, and the flame jumps up the moment the greens hit the pan.
Soy sauce, minced garlic, and syrup with a little vinegar make a glaze that is salty-sweet with no heat. Boiled down too long, the soy turns harshly salty, so the chicken goes in while the sauce is still thin and gets just a quick glossy coat over high heat.
Soy sauce, pear juice and sesame oil give this thick sirloin a flavor close to bulgogi, while the cooking itself follows steak: a hard sear, a rest, then slicing against the grain. Pear juice tenderizes, but the marinade stays short because past 30 minutes it turns the surface mushy.
The mussels are added with a spoonful of rice wine and boiled uncovered for five minutes, letting the fishy steam escape while the taste of the sea stays in the broth. Any still closed by then are taken out and thrown away.
Pork shoulder is marinated in gochujang, stir-fried with onion and simmered in rice-rinsing water for ten minutes before the deodeok and oyster mushrooms go in, because the root's aroma fades the longer it boils. Leftovers thicken overnight; add a splash of water or rice water when reheating.
There is no chili in this braise, just soy sauce, sugar and garlic, and the juices from the boneless thighs soak into the potato and carrot so nothing else needs seasoning. If the fat feels like too much, trim off some of the chicken skin before cooking.
Tearing steamed eggplant by hand along its grain, instead of slicing it, leaves ragged surfaces that pull the chili, garlic and fish sauce dressing deep between the fibers. There is no fermentation, so it is eaten the day it is made, ideally in summer when eggplant is in season and a quick extra side dish is needed. Spooned over cold rice and mixed, it becomes a simple meal on its own, with soft eggplant and spicy dressing coating every grain.
Surf clams simmered with radish make a clear, briny stock, and rehydrated miyeok seaweed unfurls in it to add its own quiet ocean flavor. Dongjuk look much like Manila clams but give a deeper broth, so no separate stock is needed. Seasoning stays light, just soup soy sauce and garlic, letting the shellfish lead. It suits a slow morning or any time a light, warm bowl sounds right.
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.
The earthy smell of early-spring naengi (shepherd's purse) gives this squid salad with chojang, a sweet-sour chili dressing, its seasonal character. The greens are cleaned of roots and grit, then dipped only briefly in salted boiling water to soften their bitterness while keeping their aroma.
Garlic and dried chili warm slowly in olive oil until fragrant, the shrimp cook in that oil, and whatever is left gets mopped up with baguette. The garlic should only reach pale gold at the edges when the shrimp are added, because browned garlic turns the whole pan bitter.
Dried taro leaves simmer slowly in coconut milk until they collapse into a creamy, spoonable mass with a faint sheen of oil on top. Fully dried leaves are essential, since fresh ones can leave an itchy, prickly feeling in the mouth. It comes from the Bicol region of the Philippines and is eaten a little at a time with plenty of warm rice.
Braised in the same pot, the tofu turns soft enough to break under a spoon while the shrimp curl up firm and springy. A little of the braising liquid is left in the pan on purpose, for spooning over rice.
Oysters go into the pot last, after the rice has broken down and the radish is soft, and they need only a few minutes to stay tender. Most of the work is the long simmer before that: rice and minced radish, first toasted in sesame oil, cook for over 30 minutes and like to stick to the bottom, so stir from the base often.
Chamnamul, a Korean mountain green, smells a little like parsley or celery leaves, only cleaner and stronger. Stir-fried with soy-marinated beef, its fresh scent sits clearly on top of the heavier meat.
As cabbage and onion wilt over high heat, the moisture they release loosens the gochujang sauce so it coats every slice of sundae, Korean blood sausage. Add rice cakes and it becomes tteoksuni; some finish it with cheese on top.
With nothing but coarse salt on the pork, the meat itself carries almost all the flavor, and the quality of the belly or neck shows in every bite. Garlic roasted at the edge of the same pan, a sesame oil and salt dip and lettuce leaves turn each piece into a wrap.
The dried pollock strips soak in cold water for only five minutes. Any longer and the savory flavor leaches out while the flesh goes soft. Toasted in sesame oil and simmered with bean sprouts for fifteen minutes, they turn the broth faintly milky, and a spoonful of doenjang makes a heavier version.
Ground perilla seed and the starch from potatoes thicken this stew on their own, leaving a broth that coats a spoon with no extra thickener. Dumping all the perilla powder at once is the usual mistake, since it clumps and scorches on the bottom. Stirring it in a little at a time avoids both.
Short ribs braise in a soy broth sweetened with Korean pear juice, which softens the meat and leaves a faint fruit sweetness through to the end. The dish takes the galbi jjim served at Korean holidays and birthdays and adds kabocha, which softens only at the edges and thickens the sauce naturally.
Swiss chard has two textures in one leaf: thick, crunchy stems and soft greens that wilt fast. The stems go into the brine first and the leaves join later; salted together, the leaves turn mushy before the stems are seasoned. Firm, thick-stemmed bunches keep their crunch longest after salting. The paste is built on cooled glutinous rice porridge with plum syrup for a soft sweetness, and half a day on the counter before chilling helps it ripen.
Pad kee mao, as drunken noodles are called in Thailand, layers chili and garlic heat with a last-minute handful of basil over wide rice noodles. This version uses chicken thigh and Thai basil, which smells different from the holy basil of traditional versions. The 250 g of noodles is a dried weight (fresh noodles at the same weight give a different yield), and wide dried noodles vary enough that the package directions are the better guide for softening them. Draining the softened noodles well keeps the soy, oyster and fish sauces coating the strands instead of pooling around them. Once the noodles join the pan, a short toss is enough; longer heating breaks them apart.
Gochujang cream pasta combines Korean fermented chili paste with an Italian-style cream sauce. Gochujang adds sweetness and heat, Parmesan contributes salt and aged cheese flavor, and bacon provides a crisp contrast. Onion and minced garlic cook in the fat left by the bacon. In this formula the chili paste is mixed directly with cream, rather than fried alone for a long time. Bacon, gochujang and cheese supply the seasoning, so the pasta water is left unsalted. The reserved water gives control over the sauce thickness; it is a supply for adjustment, not a quantity that must all go into the pan.
Coarse, soft lumps of tofu sit between thin strips of red and yellow pepper and cucumber, and each bite alternates between creamy and crisp. The soy and vinegar dressing is a small amount, and any water left on the tofu or vegetables thins it quickly and pools at the bottom of the bowl.