1421 recipes. Page 47 of 60
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As sliced duck grills with onion, the fat that melts out mixes with the gochujang marinade and pools in the pan as a sweet, spicy sauce. Spooning it back over the meat while it cooks is what gives the surface its shine. Wrapped in perilla leaves, each bite is noticeably less fiery.
Pork spine bones simmer for about two hours into a cloudy, rich stock, then blanched cabbage greens (ugeoji) rubbed with doenjang and chili join the pot for an earthy, spicy depth. Cubes of seonji, congealed blood, are added near the end and warmed by ladling broth over them rather than stirring, so they hold their shape.
Turnip turns translucent as it cooks and gives the kelp stock a quiet sweetness. There is no meat or anchovy; oyster mushrooms and tofu fill out the pot. Once the perilla seed powder is stirred in, it gets about two minutes over low heat.
Soft, mild yellow croaker with little fishiness needs nothing more than a simple sauce of soy, gochugaru and garlic. Some croaker is sold already salted and needs less soy sauce. Taste before adding the full amount. Sliced radish under the fish keeps it from sticking and turns sweet and tender in the liquid. Korean families often put this on holiday tables, and the saucy braising liquid is meant to be spooned over rice.
Sesame paste whisked into chicken stock turns the broth thick, tan, and nutty, and a spoonful of crumbly pork plus a drizzle of chili oil sit on top as separate layers of salt and heat. Doubanjiang, a fermented chili bean paste, gives that pork its savory backbone, and the pork is fried until its moisture is gone and the edges brown and crisp. Stirring the bowl gradually blends the chili oil into the sesame broth, changing the taste of the soup from the first sip to the last. Peanut butter can stand in for half the sesame paste, and the amount of doubanjiang sets the heat. The noodles come out a little before the package time so they stay firm in the hot soup. Blanched bok choy adds a crisp, green bite against all that richness.
When kimchi has gone too sour, this is the first thing many Korean households think of making. The kimchi is cut without squeezing out its juices and fried with onion over medium heat until the liquid in the pan cooks down and clings to the leaves. Besides rice, it often goes on top of ramyeon.
Only coarse salt and black pepper season the duck itself; the flavor partners come at the table, where slices are wrapped in perilla leaves with ssamjang, a fermented soybean and chili paste. Cooked from a cold pan in its own fat, the skin turns hard and crackly.
Hard scorched rice dropped into hot seafood broth starts out crisp, turns chewy, and if left a while longer softens into something like porridge. It goes into each bowl at the table rather than into the pot, and how long you wait decides which version you eat.
Beans, corn and squash, the three sister crops, share one pot here and are eaten with a spoon, broth and all. The recipe follows the stew chef Loretta Barrett Oden shared on PBS, using fully cooked canned beans and leaving out the dumplings that came with it. Unlike succotash, which is cooked down in a skillet, this one keeps plenty of tomato broth, and the corn and squash go in last so the kernels stay whole and the squash holds its shape.
After an hour and a half of slow braising in soy sauce, pork trotters develop glossy, sticky skin over meat soft enough for a chopstick to slide through. Onion, garlic, ginger and whole peppercorns in the braising liquid carry the soy flavor into the layers between skin and meat. The braising liquid is not wasted: strained and reduced, it becomes the glaze spooned over the slices. Jokbal is eaten wrapped in lettuce with salted shrimp sauce or ssamjang, often late at night with drinks.
It tastes like Chinese home-style tomato and scrambled egg turned into a noodle soup, with sweet-sour tomato broth, soft egg curds and fresh noodles. The eggs are folded briefly and lifted out while still slightly wet, then return for only a minute at the end; fully cooked at the start, they would toughen in the final simmer. Pressing the tomatoes as they cook draws out the red juice that lets the pieces and the stock blend instead of sitting apart, and cooking them down well deepens the savory flavor. A little soy sauce and sugar only round off the tomato's acidity. Fresh noodles cook fast in the hot broth and come off the heat while the centers are still slightly firm.
Beef marinated with pear juice and sugar is stir-fried over high heat with aged kimchi. The kimchi's sourness and salt make it less sweet than ordinary bulgogi, and its juices soak into the meat as they cook together. Regular napa cabbage kimchi works if there is no aged kimchi on hand.
Squid and pork belly share one gochujang marinade, but only the pork goes into the pan at first. After five or six minutes it has given up its fat and the sauce has turned glossy; the squid follows and cooks in three or four, soaking up pork-enriched sauce as it goes.
With no chili paste or doenjang, only salt, garlic and scallion, the broth tastes of nothing but the clams, shrimp and squid. Each bowl holds open clam shells, curled red shrimp and white rings of squid.
Ripe tomato, roughly chopped, goes into an otherwise familiar beef short rib stew and turns the broth tangy and thick. It melts into the gochujang sauce, leaving hardly a trace except a deeper red.
Perilla leaves, brushed thinly with soy and chili seasoning and stacked, braise gently into soft, dark green sheets that still peel apart one at a time. Draped over a spoonful of rice, each leaf brings its strong herbal aroma and the salty sauce together in one bite. Leftover rinsing water is what usually goes wrong, since it dilutes the seasoning and leaves the stack bland. Alternating the stem direction as the leaves are stacked evens out the thickness on both sides. Spooning the liquid from the bottom over the top midway lets every layer take on salt, and a day in the fridge evens it out further.
Pork back bones and trotters boil hard for hours until their collagen and fat emulsify into a milky broth thick enough to feel sticky on the lips. Soaking and blanching the bones beforehand cuts down the porky smell. That rolling boil is the opposite of the gentle simmer used for clear stocks, and it is what separates tonkotsu from an ordinary pork soup. When the pot runs low, it is topped up with hot water, never with a lower flame. Thin, firm noodles, pork belly chashu braised in soy sauce and mirin, a soft-boiled egg, and sliced green onion top the bowl. The chashu slices thin most easily when made a day ahead and chilled, and the eggs marinate in its braising liquid.
Well-fermented sour kimchi goes in, and its sourness does the job of a sauce. When the kimchi is salty, the rest of the marinade goes in a little at a time rather than all at once, and wrapping bites in lettuce takes the edge off the heat.
A sauce of yuja cheong (Korean citron marmalade) and soy sauce, brushed into the gills of fresh shiitake caps and left for ten minutes, seeps between the folds and stays on after grilling as a sour-salty glaze.
Blue crabs go in shell and all, turning red as they cook and flavoring the radish broth, and with cheongyang chilies for heat the pot goes in the middle of the table for everyone to dip into.
Taro stem that has not been boiled long enough leaves a prickly, itchy feeling in the throat. So this autumn stew uses thoroughly boiled stems, soaked in cold water and rinsed several times to take off the slippery coating before they go in. The broth is beef and doenjang, thickened with ground perilla seed.
Oily Pacific saury can braise for a good twenty minutes in a spicy soy broth and still come out moist. Laying the fish in a single layer over thick radish slices, and pouring water in around the edge rather than over the top, keeps the soft flesh in whole pieces. Skimming the foam when it first boils keeps the sauce clean, and spooning the liquid over the fish midway seasons the exposed top. The liquid is cooked down until only a shallow layer remains, which coats both the fish and the radish. Whatever sauce is left gets spooned onto rice.
Shredded brisket, fernbrake, and bean sprouts fill a red, chili-oiled broth, and thin somyeon noodles take the place of the usual bowl of rice. The heat comes from gochugaru coated on the vegetables with sesame oil and fried briefly, and chili scorched at that point turns the whole pot bitter.
Perilla leaves plus ground perilla seed give soy-glazed tofu a double dose of that nutty, minty perilla smell. The tofu is seared firm beforehand, so the pieces keep their edges.