1421 recipes. Page 54 of 60
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In Jeju, pork backbone and belly simmer for an hour and a half, and gulfweed goes into that broth along with buckwheat flour to thicken it. It keeps thickening as it cools, and the heat goes off while it still runs slowly off a spoon.
Store-bought boneless jokbal, Korean braised pig's trotters that are already cooked, gets a second short simmer in a soy, sugar, and ginger glaze, turning it into a warm, glossy dish in well under an hour. As it cools, the gelatin-rich skin sets with the glaze into a pleasantly chewy texture, which makes leftovers worth eating cold.
Water from the bean sprouts is what most easily turns this stir-fry thin. They are drained well, added only in the last minute or two, and the whole pan goes onto a plate as soon as the heat is off.
Fat from pork small intestine melts into a soy-and-mirin chicken broth and turns it cloudy and rich in this hot pot from Hakata, Fukuoka. Cabbage torn into big pieces soaks up that broth and goes soft and sweet. Once the solids are gone, noodles or rice are added to the remaining broth.
Thick slices of Korean radish line the pot and soak up the soy broth, while the Spanish mackerel rests on top, never touching the bottom, so its soft flesh keeps its shape. A short rest in rice wine before cooking tones down the fishy smell, and the seasoning stays light with just soy sauce and garlic. Cheongyang chili added at the end gives the mild broth a clean, spicy finish, and the radish is as much a part of the meal as the fish.
Jumulleok means meat kneaded by hand with its marinade, but thin duck slices tear if squeezed, so here the gochujang sauce is folded through them gently. Perilla leaves add their scent to the spicy coating.
Radish greens dried in autumn used to come out through the winter for soups like this one. Rubbed with doenjang first and then simmered with five spoonfuls of perilla seed powder, they end up in a broth thick enough to spoon over rice and mix in.
Spanish mackerel has white, tender flesh that flakes apart easily once cooked, so this braise never flips the fish. Instead, the pot gets a gentle shake and the sauce is spooned over the top. A gapless bed of radish, thicker slices in the middle, keeps the fish off the pot. The red sauce of soy, gochujang and gochugaru seasons both the mild flesh and the radish, which turns translucent as it cooks.
Osam takes its name from the first syllables of squid (ojingeo) and pork belly (samgyeopsal). The pork belly is cooked first until plenty of fat has rendered, and the squid and gochujang sauce go into that fat, so no extra oil is needed.
There is no separate stock here. Seven hundred grams of mussels open in boiling water and their liquor becomes the broth, with doenjang seeping out of the radish greens that were rubbed with it beforehand. Between bites of plump mussel, the greens stay a little fibrous.
Pork belly and big chunks of radish braise together in soy sauce, and by the end the radish has absorbed as much of the rich, salty liquid as the meat. The belly is blanched briefly and rinsed first; skip that and the surface impurities and porky smell end up in the sauce. The radish is cut large because small pieces fall apart over the long simmer. Covered at first and then uncovered, the pot moves from gentle braising to reducing, which leaves the pork and radish coated in a glossy soy glaze rather than sitting in thin broth. It holds up well when made ahead, because cooling and rewarming drive the seasoning in further.
Ground pork hits a wok heated to the edge of smoking, and the Thai basil is added only seconds before the heat is cut, just long enough to wilt. Five chilies and five garlic cloves, pounded rather than finely minced, make this hot and garlicky, and it is eaten over rice with a fried egg on top.
Add beef and this becomes beef radish soup; add dried pollack and it becomes pollack radish soup. This is the plain version underneath both, and the one thing that takes care is cutting the radish a little thicker than usual so it does not fall apart in the long simmer. Winter radish makes a noticeably sweeter broth, and the radish is softer still when the soup is reheated the next day.
Beef shank carries a lot of connective tissue that stays tough after a quick cook but lets the meat pull apart along the grain after a long, low simmer. As the braise cools, gelatin from the shank sets the sauce, and warming it again melts it back into a glossy, slightly thick glaze.
There is no coconut milk here. Eggs and evaporated milk make the sauce, and instead of a soupy curry you get soft, moist curds clinging to the crab. The curry note comes from mild curry powder rather than paste, along with nam prik pao and Chinese celery.
The gochujang and vinegar broth goes into the freezer for about an hour and is poured over the bowl while still slushy. That keeps everything cold to the last spoonful without a pile of ice cubes thinning the seasoning. Raw flatfish sits on shredded pear, cucumber and cabbage, and with nothing here touching heat, the fish should be sold for raw eating, kept cold, and served the moment the bowl is put together.
Tofu, spinach and shiitake share one covered pan over low heat without any frying, and the soy seasoning stays light and clean. The slices are pressed firmly between paper towels before they reach the pan, since water left in the tofu clouds the liquid and dilutes the seasoning. Shiitake supplies most of the savory depth in an otherwise plain sauce, while the spinach wilts down between the tofu slices. Perilla oil is drizzled on only after the heat is off, which keeps its nutty aroma from cooking away. Just a shallow pool of liquid gathers under the tofu, making this a side dish for chopsticks rather than a soupy one.
Pork loin and green pepper are cut into matching thin strips so they cook together in a few minutes over high heat. Slicing the loin across the grain means even the long strips bite cleanly instead of turning chewy and stringy.
This is just the broth for mulhoe, Korean raw fish in an icy, spicy soup, made on its own ahead of time. Six tablespoons of vinegar and some plum syrup go into the gochujang base, and the 100ml of soda is stirred in last and slowly so the fizz survives. It can rest in the fridge for a day, then move to the freezer an hour or two before serving to turn slushy.
Jijim uses far less liquid than a stew, so by the end the dried radish greens (siraegi) are coated in a glossy doenjang (Korean soybean paste) sauce with almost no broth left. Stripping the tough outer fibers matters: skipped, the stems stay stringy however long they cook.
A generous amount of finely shredded ginger gives mild chicken breast a sharp, warming smell. The cabbage and bell pepper are not cooked for long, so they still crunch.
Mulmegi is caught off Korea's east coast from December to February, and its flesh is so soft that it nearly dissolves into the pot once cooked. Even in this clear soup that gives the broth some body, enough that it sets almost like jelly as it cools. Once the fish is in, shake the pot rather than stirring it.
Dried radish greens (siraegi) stay chewy through the braise and soak up the gochujang and soy sauce, so here they are as good with rice as the hairtail itself. The greens are tossed with a little doenjang beforehand, which leaves a nutty, savory note under the braise.
Because the pan runs on high heat, perilla oil is not used alone but mixed in equal parts with neutral oil. The king oyster mushrooms are cut lengthwise into long strips that keep their grain, and ground perilla seed goes in over low heat for the last minute to thicken the little bit of soy broth.