1421 recipes. Page 27 of 60
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Any vegetables left in the fridge can go into this soup, as long as the order holds: firm ones like carrot and celery soften in oil first, quick-cooking zucchini and beans come later. Ditalini cook directly in the pot, and their starch thickens the broth; if it turns too heavy, hot vegetable stock loosens it without cooling the soup down. Fresh basil and a drizzle of olive oil are added after the heat is off.
Bite-size potato cubes roast on a hot tray rather than in a fryer, picking up firm, crisp edges before a smoky, spicy tomato sauce is spooned over them. Rinsing the cut cubes until the water runs clearer, drying every surface and spacing them apart on the tray gives those edges their crunch, since wet or crowded pieces steam.
Chicken thighs are pressed skin side down with a spatula until the skin turns deep gold, then glazed over low heat with soy sauce, mirin, sake, and sugar, plus garlic and ginger, spooned over until it clings.
Leaves picked from pepper plants after the chili harvest make this namul, and they are at their most tender in August and September. They keep a slightly bitter, green aroma even after blanching, and the chili flakes are kept to an amount whose heat does not bury it. The thin leaves take the seasoning almost at once and go to the table as soon as they are mixed.
Regular khao man gai tops the rice with poached chicken; this version swaps in chicken thighs seasoned with soy and fish sauce, dredged lightly in flour, and fried skin side first to a deep gold. The rice cooks with garlic and ginger, giving it more aroma than plain steamed rice to stand up to the fried chicken. Excess flour is shaken off before frying, since a heavy coat tends to slip away in the oil. Sliced chicken goes over the rice with a sauce on the side.
Dallae, Korean wild chives with small white bulbs, join the gochujang pork only once the meat is fully cooked. They get a single minute over the flame and finish wilting in the residual heat after it is turned off. Their sharp, pungent scent is strongest at the white bulb end.
Deep crosshatch scoring makes the cuttlefish curl open like a flower over high heat, and every gap fills with a glossy red gochujang glaze.
Half the soup is blended and stirred back in, so the broth thickens while whole corn kernels and pieces of potato stay intact. The onion and garlic cook in the fat left from crisping the bacon, and the bacon itself returns at the end, scattered over each bowl with parsley.
Well-aged kimchi brings a sharp sourness that plays against the oily white flesh of hairtail, so this fish stew tastes more tangy and spicy than fishy. A five-minute soak in lightly salted water, followed by a rinse, takes much of the strong smell out of the fish.
Each block of firm tofu gets a shallow well scooped out with a spoon, and none of the scooped tofu is wasted: it returns to the filling with ground beef, shiitake and carrot. Dubu-seon comes from the Korean royal court table; this version skips the older crumble-and-shape method and steams the stuffed blocks directly, with the filling mounded slightly above the rim. A thin glaze of soy sauce and water keeps the finish light and lets the mild tofu lead.
Salted shrimp and anchovy fish sauce layer two kinds of seafood savoriness, and glutinous rice paste thickens the seasoning so it clings to the scallions even after they release water. Six hours at room temperature plus a day of chilling make it ready for grilled pork belly or bossam, and after three days or more its lactic sourness suits stews and stir-fries.
Tiny freshwater corbicula clams, a specialty of Hadong along the Seomjin River in South Gyeongsang, give this noodle soup a broth that tastes strongly of shellfish yet stays light and clear. Restaurants along the river serve the clams in many forms and treat them as the defining local taste. Seasoning is kept to soup soy sauce and a little salt so the clams lead, while one cheongyang chili adds quiet background heat. Skipping the straining step leaves grit and an earthy taste that clouds that clean flavor. The somyeon is boiled separately and scrubbed hard in cold water, since leftover starch would cloud the strained broth all over again.
Mushrooms brown over high heat, while the truffle oil is added only after the burner is off, at the very last stir. Each aroma is handled at its own temperature because heat flattens truffle oil. Well-drained gnocchi matter too: water clinging to them thins the cream sauce.
Loose, creamy cornmeal makes a soft bed for mixed mushrooms seared until their edges brown. The polenta is sprinkled into the boiling water little by little while whisking, since dumping it in all at once leaves lumps, and it is spooned into bowls while it still flows, before standing firms it up.
Peeled boiled eggs simmer with the pork in coconut water, fish sauce and caramel long enough for the whites to turn deep brown. In Vietnamese homes the sauce is spooned over rice, and the eggs pick up even more flavor if the pot cools overnight and is reheated.
Godeulppaegi is one of the more bitter Korean greens, and most of the prep time goes into soaking it in cold water after blanching. If a taste says it's still too sharp, change the water and soak it again, then dress it with gochujang and vinegar.
A whole piece of chicken thigh, rubbed with turmeric and cumin, comes on top of rice cooked in coconut milk. The spice and coconut reach right into the rice, and a spicy dipping sauce on the side sharpens the whole plate.
The deodeok, a fibrous mountain root, goes into the pan ahead of the eggplant and onion, because eggplant cooks far faster. Its earthy bitterness is toned down beforehand with a short soak in salted water.
Garaetteok, the long cylinder-shaped Korean rice cake, turns golden and firm outside and stays stretchy inside when rolled around in butter in a pan. A thin coat of soy sauce and rice syrup goes on next, then sesame salt and crumbled seaweed.
The mushrooms are wiped clean with a paper towel rather than rinsed. Wet slices release water in the pan and struggle to brown, and that deep browning is where most of the soup's flavor comes from.
Gangwon style means 300 g of potatoes, which make the broth thick and filling. The oyster mushrooms are torn along the grain and stay chewy even after a long boil. Zucchini, onion and tofu fill out the pot as well.
The ribs spend half an hour in cold water and get a quick blanch and rinse before they ever meet the soy braising liquid. It is an extra step, but it keeps the foam and impurities out of the pot, and the finished sauce tastes clean rather than murky.
Kale's strong green smell mellows as it ferments while the leaves keep a firm bite, giving a kimchi that chews more than napa cabbage kimchi does. Julienned radish adds crunch, and soup soy sauce, rather than fish sauce, supplies the salty depth. Pear puree, or apple puree in its place, wraps the chili heat in fruit sweetness and balances the slightly bitter finish of the kale. It tastes best from the day after making, once the seasoning has settled into the leaves overnight.
Gochujang and doenjang dissolved together into anchovy-kelp stock give this Gangwon-style knife-cut noodle soup its red, fiery broth. It comes from the province's mountainous interior, where it warmed workers through the cold seasons. The chili paste brings rounded sweetness and heat, the soybean paste an earthy depth, and an extra spoon of gochugaru sharpens the finish. Potato breaks down at the edges as it simmers, thickening the soup with no added starch, so the noodles end up in something closer to a stew than a clear broth. Fresh noodles need constant stirring for the first 30 seconds or their starch clumps, and after that a steady medium heat with the odd scrape of the bottom keeps the thick broth from catching or reducing too far.