1421 recipes. Page 36 of 60
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Chicken breast, sliced thin across the grain, is seasoned with soy sauce, garlic and ginger and seared quickly. The fussiest part is the knife work: slices of even thickness cook at the same pace.
Wrapped in lettuce and other leaves to eat, this pork shoulder is marinated in gochujang for at least 30 minutes and spread in a single layer over high heat. For the first 2 minutes it is left alone, until the edges go dark brown. The sugar is stirred fully into the marinade beforehand. Any grains left undissolved scorch into black spots.
For when you miss the fish cake broth from a street stall, this needs only square sheets of eomuk (Korean fish cake) and radish. Rinse the fish cakes once in hot water to strip off the frying oil, and the broth stays clear to the last spoonful.
Ribbons of perilla leaf sit on a broth made from stir-fried bulgogi beef, and their fresh, faintly minty smell comes through clearly over the meat. It is seasoned with soup soy sauce, which keeps the taste clean.
Despite the name, gamja-jjim is not steamed: potato cubes simmer in soy sauce, sugar and garlic until almost no liquid is left and a glossy film coats each piece. Cubes cut to one size take the seasoning to the center at the same pace, and no piece ends up bland inside. Scallions and a little sesame oil finish it with a fresh, nutty note.
Thick, fibrous radish green stems grip the seasoning and keep their chew long after the leaves soften. The stems get a ten-minute head start in the salt before the leaves join them, so both end up evenly seasoned. Cooled glutinous rice paste holds the chili mixture in place as the kimchi ripens, and sliced onion tempers the heat with sweetness. Longer cold fermentation softens the fibers and deepens the sour aroma, which makes older batches good for chopping into doenjang stew or soup.
Thick, wavy noodles sit under a heap of stir-fried ground pork, cabbage and bean sprouts, finished Sapporo-style with corn and a pat of butter melting into the miso broth. The miso goes in once the broth has stopped boiling hard, and it is not brought back to a rolling boil afterward.
Chicken thigh marinated for 10 minutes in soy sauce, honey, and garlic darkens into a sticky glaze as the sugars catch in a hot pan. Left untouched for the first minute, the pieces color properly. Tomato passata cuts through that sweet-salty coating, and garlic shows up twice, in the marinade and again in the sauce. Thigh stays juicy under high heat where breast would dry out. Since soy already brings plenty of salt, the Parmesan is grated in last, to taste.
The mushroom stems are not thrown away: they are chopped, cooked with garlic and mixed into a filling of cream cheese, Parmesan and breadcrumbs that goes back into the caps. In the oven the top of the filling turns golden and the melted cream cheese mingles with the mushroom juices.
Minari, sold in English as water parsley, smells clean and green in a way parsley and celery do not, and the scent does not survive much heat. Past 20 seconds in the pot it leaves with the steam and only the crunch remains, which is why the blanching stops there.
King oyster mushrooms are cut lengthwise into thick planks and scored in a crosshatch, which gives them enough heft to stand in for meat over rice. They are seared in a dry pan first to drive off water, then glazed with soy sauce, cooking wine and sugar, and they stay chewy under the sauce.
Garlic goes into melted butter, then the shrimp, and as soon as they turn pink the soy sauce, sugar and cheongyang chili go in for a thirty-second finish. There is no time to measure anything in those thirty seconds, so the seasoning is set out before the burner goes on.
On the domed jingisukan pan, lamb fat and juices run down the grooves into the bean sprouts, onions and squash ringing the edge. This Hokkaido style skips the marinade and dips the lamb after cooking in a soy-vinegar sauce made with grated apple, pear, garlic and ginger. The fattiest pieces cook first in the center, and their rendered fat coats the grooves so nothing sticks without added oil. Everyone eats as things cook, lifting off meat and vegetables as they are ready, with potatoes and squash taking the longest. Hokkaido began eating lamb when sheep were raised for wool in the Taisho era, and the dish is now cooked at home year-round and outdoors at spring blossom parties and summer barbecues.
In Chungcheong, eotang starts with whole freshwater fish simmered for more than forty minutes until even the flesh dissolves into the broth, which is then strained twice through a fine sieve or cloth to catch the small bones. Radish and doenjang go into that broth for a second simmer, and chili flakes and green onion give it a sharp finish.
One can of Pacific saury, liquid and all, flavors the whole pot, so no separate stock is needed. The canned fish is already cooked with softened bones, so it needs no prep and is eaten bones and all, while a little doenjang tones down the canned-fish smell.
Instead of small whole potatoes, this version peels ordinary ones and cuts them into bite-size chunks. The corn syrup waits until the potatoes are nearly tender; added that late, it stays a thin shine instead of turning into a sticky syrup. Serve it warm or fully cooled.
Radish sprouts are so thin that any pressure squeezes out water and a grassy smell, which keeps the tossing down to about 20 seconds with the fingertips, and the vinegar is added last for a brighter tang. Eaten right away, before the sprouts wilt, it is light and crisp; leftovers keep, chilled and sealed, for a day or two.
Mohinga, often called Myanmar's national dish, builds its soup from the water the fish was poached in, then returns the flaked fish to the pot so every spoonful carries it. Chickpea flour stirred in as a slurry gives the broth a heavier, almost porridge-like body that sets it apart from clear noodle soups, and turmeric tints it a soft gold. The flour has to be fully dissolved in cold water and added a little at a time, which avoids lumps and lets the cook stop at the thickness they want. Onion and garlic simmer in the stock long enough to scent it before the seasoning is added, and the rice noodles are rinsed separately before the soup is ladled over. Crisp chickpea fritters, boiled egg, cilantro, and a squeeze of lime finish each bowl with crunch and acidity.
Briny olives, salty capers and anchovies, and red pepper flakes all land in the same tomato sauce, which comes out bold and sharply defined after eight minutes of reduction. The spaghetti leaves the water a minute early and finishes in the sauce pan with reserved pasta water over high heat, where the starch binds everything to the strands and leaves no watery pool behind.
Cold tzatziki over warm grains and pan-seared salmon gives this bowl its contrast in temperature. The Greek sauce mixes thick yogurt with cucumber, garlic, lemon, and dill, and the dill cuts through the richness of the fish. Brown rice or quinoa both work as the base, and halved cherry tomatoes add a bright, sweet note.
Miyeokgwi, the ruffled base of the sea mustard plant (sold as mekabu in Japan), is thicker and bumpier than the leaves and bounces back when you bite it. It is dressed sweet, sour, and hot with chili flakes, soy, vinegar, and sugar, then chilled for 10 minutes before serving.
The shrimp are split into two uses. Heads and shells simmer into the stock the rice cooks in, while the meat is minced, given a quick turn in sesame oil with garlic, and set aside until the grains have fully broken down.
Dried tofu cut into thin strips does not break up in the pan; it lifts on the chopsticks in strands, like noodles. Carrot, green pepper and onion cut to the same width make it colorful.
Webfoot octopus has a smaller body and thicker legs than nakji, the long-arm octopus. It spends just 10 minutes in the spicy marinade and 3 to 4 minutes over high heat, and the slightly charred sauce that catches on the pan floor is part of the flavor. In spring they often come full of roe, and the leftover sauce goes into fried rice.