1421 recipes. Page 58 of 60
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Soy sauce with mirin and a little oligosaccharide syrup gives it a faint sweetness. The chicken breast never cooks through on its own: as soon as the outside turns white the lotus root and onion go in, and that timing is what keeps the chicken from drying out.
By tradition the broth reaches the table unseasoned, and salt and pepper are added by each person eating. Over 6 to 8 hours of simmering it turns from clear to milky, and the brisket, pulled out after about 2 hours, is sliced thin for the top. Rice or thin noodles go into the bowl with sliced green onion.
Lotus root is dense and soybean sprouts are delicate, and cooked for the same length of time one of them gives out. The lotus root gets a head start, and the sprouts go in only once the soy glaze is bubbling, for a short final toss.
Once the doenjang-coated napa greens and bean sprouts have simmered and the broth has turned savory and cloudy, the large pieces of ox blood curd (seonji) are slid in at the edge of the pot. A deep stir with the ladle breaks them apart.
Smoked duck gives off a lot of fat as it cooks, and all but a thin film is poured off. The duck brings plenty of salt of its own, and soy sauce waits until a taste just before serving.
Despite a name that means water-boiled fish, the bowl arrives under a layer of red chili oil. Thin slices of white fish, coated in starch, poach gently in a doubanjiang broth so they stay tender inside all that heat. Hot chili oil poured over Sichuan peppercorns at the end sizzles and releases the numbing aroma, and bean sprouts underneath catch the broth. It is intense enough that rice on the side is not optional.
Wet lotus root and shrimp give off water instead of frying, and that water thins the soy glaze. Lotus slices are done when the edges are translucent and the middle still crunches; cooking longer to soften them only overcooks the shrimp.
Thin slices of radish simmer first to flavor the broth, because the clams and spinach themselves cook in moments. Turn the heat down as soon as the clams open and the meat stays tender.
The 2.5 tablespoons of soy sauce are split: one seasons the beef up front, and the rest goes in with syrup at the end to glaze the lotus root as well. Only a thin cut of beef will cook in about the same time as the lotus.
Spinach brings a faint bitterness to the doenjang broth, and the wilted leaves leave it tinged a pale green.
The eggplant is fried and set aside first, then returned to the sauce at the end, which keeps the pieces whole. The sauce starts from the spicy oil released as ground pork and doubanjiang (chili bean paste) fry together, and the sourness is adjusted at the very end with a little vinegar at a time.
Seasoned only with soup soy sauce, the broth stays clear and the grassy note of spinach comes through, a calm bowl to set next to oily or spicy dishes. Firm tofu cut into generous cubes holds together better as it simmers.
Cumin and chili flakes are held back until the final minute so their aroma stays sharp. Before that, thin slices of lamb are spread in one layer in a very hot wok and left untouched for the first 40 seconds to brown.
Fat from the pork shoulder soaks into radish greens already rubbed with doenjang, and the broth turns heavy and reddish brown. It tastes deeper still after cooling once and reheating.
No meat goes into this one, only dried radish greens, doenjang and anchovy stock. Drying leaves the greens slightly bitter, and that bitterness stays in the pot on purpose. Strip it all out and the soup stops tasting like siraegi-guk.
The brisket is patted dry before it meets the perilla oil. Wet meat tastes boiled instead of toasty, and the radish greens then go into that same oil. That step is where the soup's nutty depth comes from.
Beef brisket is browned in sesame oil, then water and napa cabbage go in. Guk-ganjang, the Korean soy sauce for soups, turns the broth a clear light brown, and a thin film of sesame oil from the beef floats on top with a nutty smell. The stems go in before the leaves; the stems keep a little bite while the leaves turn soft and full of broth.
Thick-cut button mushrooms get 10 minutes in the pot, long enough to chew almost like meat, while the enoki join only for the last 3 minutes and barely wilt.
Napa cabbage, oyster mushrooms and bok choy alternate around the rim of the pot, with the beef spread flat in the center, and the whole thing cooks at the table. The vegetables release water as they go, and the broth starts out lightly seasoned to allow for it.
Seasoned with soup soy sauce, the clear brown broth doubles as the base for tteokguk, rice cake soup. The radish should simmer until a spoon slides through it easily; only then does its sharp bite give way to sweetness.
The broth starts from brisket browned in sesame oil, yet the sprouts keep it from feeling heavy. Cooked too long, mung bean sprouts give off a raw smell. The heat goes off while their heads still snap.
The oxtail soaks in cold water for an hour, gets a quick blanch, and then simmers over low heat for three hours. Left to cool overnight, the broth sets a layer of fat on top that lifts off easily, and the soup is lighter for it. Kkakdugi, cubed radish kimchi, goes on the table with it.
Thinly sliced garlic warmed slowly in olive oil until pale gold sets the flavor of the pot. Pushed further, it turns bitter and the whole pot tastes of it. Day-old baguette soaks up the chicken stock and partly dissolves, thickening the broth without flour, while smoked paprika tints it red and adds a faint smoky note. Beaten egg poured in a thin stream sets into soft ribbons rather than curds.
Instead of the offal and many garnishes found in fuller versions of this Jakarta soup, this home recipe makes its beef broth from brisket, coconut milk and a ground paste of onion, garlic and ginger cooked in oil. The milky color comes from the coconut milk added at the end, with no need to wait for a cloudy stock. Brisket is the slow part, and a cooked-looking surface says little; a fork should slide easily into the center. Rice is served on the side.