1421 recipes. Page 35 of 60
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Soybean leaves are bigger and thicker than perilla leaves, and here they are boiled and dressed with doenjang and perilla oil, country style. Fresh ones appear only in summer and turn up more at rural markets or farm stands than in supermarkets. They need 5 to 6 minutes of boiling to soften the tough fibers, but much longer and their nutty aroma fades.
A shallow crosshatch on the inside of the squid makes each piece curl into a thick, bouncy roll the moment it hits the heat, and the opened cuts give the gochujang sauce more surface to grab. Onion and cabbage go into the pan first to cook off their water so the sauce stays glossy.
Thin beef that hits the pan in clumps steams instead of searing. So before it goes into the soy and pear-juice marinade, every stuck-together slice is peeled apart and laid flat.
Abalone scored in a fine crosshatch goes into garlic butter for a minute a side, gets a splash of soy sauce, and comes off the heat right away. The innards can be minced and melted into the butter too. The cooked meat goes back into its scrubbed shell to serve.
The water left from rinsing rice becomes the soup base. Doenjang pressed through a sieve into it loses some of its chalky heaviness and tastes softer. The young napa cabbage looks like far too much when it goes in, then wilts down into the broth within about two minutes.
Sour kimchi is fried with chili flakes, anchovy stock goes on top, and 200 g of soybean sprouts follow. After that, the lid has one rule: if it goes on, it stays on until the sprouts are cooked, and if it is left off, it stays off the whole time. Lifting it halfway brings up a raw, beany smell.
The hairtail pieces sit in lightly salted water for five minutes and are then patted completely dry. A dry surface is what lets the chili and soy sauce sink into the fish.
Ten minutes of salt is all the water dropwort (minari) gets, so the stems stay crisp and the fresh, grassy aroma comes through intact. Even draining is gentle, a light press with the palm, since wringing the stems would cost them that snap. Anchovy fish sauce gives the light herb a savory base, and the fruity tartness of plum syrup softens the chili heat, while finely grated onion binds the paste into one smooth seasoning. Served with fatty pork belly or boiled pork, the herb clears the richness from the palate between bites. It is best eaten cold on the day it is made, before the stems wilt further.
Kecap manis, Indonesia's thick sweet soy sauce, caramelizes the moment it hits a hot wok and lacquers the egg noodles a deep, glossy brown. That sweetness is what sets Javanese mie goreng apart from Chinese-style fried noodles, and a spoonful of sambal keeps it from turning cloying. Shallots and garlic fried golden lay the aromatic base, and chicken thigh sliced thin cooks through in a few minutes over high heat while staying juicy. Noodles that are still wet drop the wok's temperature and leave the stir-fry soggy, and a weak flame in the last minute does the same. Java's street stalls serve it with a runny-yolked fried egg, prawn crackers, and a wedge of lime to cut the sweetness.
Finely chopped shiitake and button mushrooms stand in for ground meat, and a tablespoon of soy sauce reduced with tomato paste and white wine gives the ragu a salty depth. Mushroom liquid left in the pan is almost always behind a watery sauce. The mushrooms stay on high heat until they stop steaming and brown, and only then does the ragu cling to the wide pappardelle.
A dark, crisp crust and a pink, juicy center come from heat and a dry surface rather than from seasoning, which stops at salt and pepper. A damp steak in a pan that is not hot enough turns gray instead of brown. Butter melted with garlic and rosemary near the end gets spooned over the meat, adding a nutty, herbal layer to the crust. Potatoes on the side turn it into a full plate.
The lid stays on for the full 3 minutes of boiling; lift it early and the sprouts keep a raw, beany smell. A quick cold rinse right after draining keeps the stems snappy, and squeezing out the water keeps the sesame oil and garlic dressing from going thin.
Pyongyang once ate this chicken and rice soup for breakfast. With no doenjang or gochujang and salt as the only seasoning, any cloudiness in the broth shows up in the taste. The chicken, scallion and garlic are kept at a bare simmer for 45 minutes. Rice goes into the bowl first, then the broth with its shiitake, and the shredded chicken on top.
Because its soy and pear-juice marinade still tastes right once cold, Seoul-style bulgogi often goes into lunchboxes. Apple juice can replace the pear juice and tenderizes the beef much the same way.
Two horse mackerel sit in a yuzu-soy marinade for just 10 minutes before going onto a grill pan. The bits of yuzu in the marmalade burn easily, which is why half the marinade is held back and brushed on only in the last minute. Sesame oil and scallions go on after the heat is off.
It starts with blanched young napa cabbage rubbed with doenjang, gochujang, chili flakes and garlic. The beef simmers separately meanwhile and is skimmed until the broth runs clear; the seasoned greens then go in for twelve minutes, and the paste clinging to the leaves dissolves into the soup.
Eight frozen kimchi dumplings go in side by side and are left unstirred for the first two minutes, since nudging them while they thaw tears the wrappers. The kimchi inside meets the sour kimchi in the broth, and the stew tastes of kimchi twice over. The dumplings come seasoned, which is why only half the soup soy sauce goes in before tasting.
The square fish cake sheets (eomuk) are cut into triangles small enough to pick up together with a cube of potato. The fish cake goes in only when the potatoes are half done; any earlier and it turns soggy.
Crunchy seaweed stems carry a layer of salty soy and sharp vinegar over a faint taste of the sea. The stems are blanched for only about 20 seconds and squeezed dry right away; that brief dip is what keeps their snappy chew. Onion lends the brine a natural sweetness and cheongyang chile a hot finish. Salted stems vary in saltiness, so the soaking time is adjusted by tasting a strand.
Bulgogi seared fast over high heat meets raw minari, a fragrant Korean water dropwort, on udon tossed in a gochujang, soy, and sesame oil dressing. The beef is patted dry before marinating so it browns at the edges instead of stewing in its own liquid.
Sirloin is seared, rested for five minutes and sliced over the noodles, while the sauce comes from the same pan: meat juices, butter, sliced garlic, soy sauce and a spoon of mentsuyu, the Japanese bonito-and-kelp noodle base. The pasta water is added and emulsified quickly into a glossy coating, before long simmering can turn the soy sauce harsh and salty.
Steak frites lives or dies on two techniques at once: a well-seared sirloin and properly double-fried potatoes. The first fry at 160°C cooks the potato sticks through while they stay pale, and the second at 190°C turns the outside crisp and golden. Soaking the cut potatoes in cold water first washes off surface starch so they do not stick together in the oil. The steak gets only salt and pepper, then a quick baste with butter, thyme, and garlic.
Every butterbur stem has to be peeled end to end, because the outer skin is a layer of tough strings. Some bitterness survives blanching; the stems are dressed with doenjang and ground perilla seeds, and if the bitterness is too much, more perilla powder goes in.
Mashing some of the beans is all it takes to thicken the pot, and spooned over separately cooked rice, it seeps between the grains like a sauce. This version uses canned beans that are already fully cooked.