1421 recipes. Page 31 of 60
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Flounder fillets are brushed with soy sauce mixed with yuja-cheong, a Korean citron marmalade, so the salty glaze carries a bright citrus note. The fillets are thin and break easily; turn them once, in one go, with a wide spatula. If your yuja-cheong is very sweet, add a little more soy.
Stir perilla seed powder into a clear radish soup and the broth turns milky and thick almost at once, with a nuttiness heavier and earthier than sesame.
Made with plump winter oysters, it smells of the sea from the first spoonful. With lots of tofu and a chili-red broth, it sits closer to a hearty, spicy stew for rice than to a clear oyster soup.
The eggplants are steamed whole, then torn by hand along the grain instead of sliced. The torn surface is rough, and the soy dressing clings to it. It is a summer side dish for when eggplants are everywhere, and it can go to the table chilled.
Denser and drier than Korean radish, kohlrabi cubes hold their crunch even as the kimchi ferments. Eaten right away it tastes light and fresh, almost like a salad; after three to four days in the fridge the fish sauce comes forward and it turns properly savory. It can take the place of kkakdugi, the cubed radish kimchi, or sit beside meat dishes. Twenty minutes of salting is enough once the surface tastes seasoned, with no need to wait for the cubes to bend.
Simmering kimchi dumplings in anchovy-kelp stock lets the kimchi and pork filling season the broth with little help from anything else. Once the dumplings float they are cooked; boiling longer splits the wrappers. A thin swirl of beaten egg softens the soup, and the somen sits in the bowl with broth poured over rather than being cooked in the pot. It makes a quick, warming bowl for a cold day.
Four anchovy fillets melt into the garlic oil over medium-low heat until nothing fish-shaped is left, only a savory base under the tomatoes. Halved black olives and capers follow, and between them and the anchovies the sauce rarely needs added salt. The risk lies in reduction: when the sauce thickens too fast its saltiness turns sharp, and lowering the heat then does more good than simmering longer.
Rosemary, thyme, garlic, and parsley chopped into breadcrumbs form a green crust over the lamb, held in place by a thin layer of Dijon mustard. Searing the rack first supplies the color, leaving the oven only to crisp the crust while the center stays pink. The seared surface needs to cool briefly before the mustard is spread on, otherwise the coating slides. Carve between the bones into individual chops.
The sprouts get no chili and no soy sauce; jayeom does the seasoning. This traditionally made salt has more savory depth than refined salt. It goes on before the other seasonings so it can reach the thick stems.
Butterbur leaves are steamed for 4 minutes rather than blanched, which leaves them pliable enough to fold. Their bitterness softens once each bite also holds sesame-oil rice and a salty ssamjang of doenjang and gochujang.
Chewy squares of Korean fish cake (eomuk) are mixed with crisp onion and carrot. Soy sauce and oligo syrup give a sweet-salty glaze, and a cheongyang chili tossed in at the end adds a little heat.
Shrimp and squid are brushed with a thin layer of doenjang sauce and grilled. There is only half a tablespoon of gochujang in it, so it tastes more savory than hot. You know it is done by smell: once the sauce turns deep brown and smells toasty, it comes off the heat, and a little longer brings a burnt note.
Half a chicken, cut into pieces, simmers until perilla seed powder loosened in water goes in where samgyetang would use glutinous rice and ginseng, giving a nutty, thick chicken soup for far less work.
The nutty smell of sour kimchi fried in perilla oil meets the briny smell of fresh oysters in one pot. It is a winter stew, made when the kimchi has gone properly sour and the oysters are plump.
The eggplant goes into the simmering soy sauce cut side down and is left alone for the first two minutes, long enough for the spongy flesh to drink in the sauce.
Soybean leaves start out earthy and grassy, and as they sit in soy sauce and anchovy fish sauce the raw green smell fades into a salty, fermented savoriness. Tender leaves picked before the first frost are laid over a spoonful of rice and eaten as a wrap, and a light toss with sesame oil softens any that taste too salty.
Thick hand-cut wheat noodles sit in the bowl first, and a stew-like gravy of beef chuck, potato, daikon, bell pepper, and tomato gets ladled over the top. This is the Uzbek kesma style: a firm dough rolled thin and cut with a knife rather than pulled by hand. If the dough keeps shrinking back as it is rolled, the gluten is still tight, and another 10 minutes of rest under a cover fixes it. Cumin seed and ground coriander give the tomato-rich gravy its Central Asian warmth. Because noodles and gravy meet only in the bowl, the chewy strands never soak up the sauce and go soft.
Boiled potato gnocchi get a second cooking in pancetta fat, browning on the bottom while staying soft inside. A splash of chicken stock reduced with Parmigiano makes just enough sauce to coat each piece thinly. Perilla oil, a nutty Korean oil pressed from perilla seeds, is poured in only after the heat is off so its aroma survives, and shredded perilla leaves from the same plant echo it on top.
Thin rounds of eggplant, zucchini, tomato, and bell pepper stand in overlapping rings on a cooked base of onion, garlic, and chopped pepper, which sets this version apart from ratatouille stewed in one pot. Instead of stock or water, the juices the vegetables release in the oven loosen the base into a sauce. Part of the pepper is diced into the base and the rest sliced for the top, giving it two textures in one dish. It makes a full plate without any meat.
A tablespoon of mayonnaise goes into the gochujang dressing. Its oil coats the dry squid strips, letting the dressing cling softly and making the squid less tough to chew. The finished dish is nearly dry, and in a lunchbox the sauce stays put instead of creeping into the next compartment.
Minari (Korean water parsley) and clams are both at their best in spring, which is when this porridge gets made. Each spoonful starts with the clean savoriness of the clams, followed by the green scent of barely wilted minari.
Dried fuzhu, folded sheets of bean curd skin, need at least 2 hours of soaking, so this dish starts well before the wok is hot. Once softened, their spongy layers soak up the store-bought mala sauce, numbing and chili-hot, and turn chewy.
Pork jowl goes into the pan with no oil at all. Its own fat runs out within moments, and the doenjang marinade sizzles in it and browns onto the meat. The doenjang starts at a single tablespoon and goes up only after tasting.
Dried, then soaked and boiled again, the radish greens called siraegi have a chewy, fibrous bite that fresh greens lack. Here they are massaged with doenjang and garlic, simmered for more than twenty minutes, and turned milky white with perilla seed powder added in two batches.