1421 recipes. Page 8 of 60
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Siraegi, dried radish greens that have been boiled and stripped of their tough skins, still show their fibers after frying, a rustic chew unlike softer vegetable pancakes. The batter starts with doenjang (soybean paste) dissolved in cold water, plus some buckwheat flour, which makes it look a little rough; that is how it should look. The paste brings enough salt that none is added.
Okara, the soybean pulp, drinks up the broth and cooks down almost to the thickness of porridge. Pork and sour kimchi are fried in perilla oil first, and salted shrimp seasons the pot at the end. Okara sinks and catches on the bottom; through the 20-plus minutes of gentle simmering, the pot needs frequent scraping.
Dotted gizzard shad (baendaengi) has fine, soft bones that soften further in the braise, so the fish is eaten bones and all. It is layered with onion over a bed of radish and braised in a gochujang and soy sauce for close to half an hour.
This kimchi is eaten the day it is made rather than aged: oyster and shiitake mushrooms get a one-minute blanch and a dressing of gochugaru and anchovy fish sauce. Tearing the oyster mushrooms along the grain into thick strips keeps them from collapsing, and the thick shiitake caps stay chewy throughout. Mushrooms that are not squeezed hard thin the paste and soften further in storage. Even chilled, it is best within 2 days.
At midday the alleys of Hanoi's Old Quarter fill with smoke from pork grilling over charcoal, and the grilled meat goes into a bowl of sweet, sour fish sauce, eaten with rice vermicelli and herbs. That sauce is thinner than a dip, closer to a light broth sipped between bites. This version grills both small ground-pork patties and pieces of pork neck, and soaks thin slices of carrot in the sauce.
Cheongyang chili, a sharp Korean green pepper, cuts through a classic cream-free carbonara of egg yolks, Parmigiano, and Pecorino, leaving a cleaner, brighter finish. Sliced chili and garlic fry for just 30 seconds in the rendered pancetta fat, long enough for the heat to spread through the oil but short of scorching the garlic. That oil then emulsifies with the cheese and egg base, and the starch and salt in the pasta water help the sauce coat each strand evenly. Grating the cheese finely ahead of time keeps the sauce smooth. The usual failure is a pan that is still too hot: the yolks scramble instead of turning silky, so the heat is cut and the pan rests a few seconds before the eggs are added.
Smoked duck brings fat and smoke, and this salad answers with a sharp soy-vinegar dressing spiked with chili oil plus thin slices of Korean pear that burst with juice. The duck gets only 3 minutes over medium heat, skin side down, to render its fat without drying out the meat. Gosari, the bracken fern Koreans usually eat as a seasoned side dish, is blanched for just 1 minute so it loses any off flavor but keeps its chewy bite. The pear is tossed with a little dressing as soon as it is sliced, which slows browning, and meets the greens only at serving time. Red chard and finely shredded cabbage give the plate a crisp base.
Cooked, chopped pork and liver are mixed with rice and packed into casing, giving a link that eats more like moist meat stuffing than a springy raw-meat sausage. A little of the broth from the long simmer brings the filling together; too much turns it into porridge. Cleaned, food-grade salted hog casings work best filled loosely, because tight links split during the final gentle poach. With no curing salt or drying stage, boudin stays a fresh sausage that belongs in the refrigerator and gets eaten within two days.
Turmeric-yellow white fish meets a big handful of dill and scallions, and the dill gives off a strong, anise-like smell the moment it hits the hot pan. This Hanoi dish is named after the La Vong restaurant, which has sold nothing else since the late nineteenth century, and a street in the Old Quarter carries its name too. Cod is the fish here, with rice noodles, roasted peanuts and fresh herbs alongside.
Chamnamul pairs soft leaves with crisp stems, and the whole method aims to keep both after blanching. Cut to 5 cm, a stem and its leaves come up together in one pinch of chopsticks, and the dish goes to the table at room temperature while the stems still snap.
Chwinamul (aster greens, a Korean wild herb) is dressed with soup soy sauce, sesame oil and garlic before it goes on top of the rice, so the rice comes out seasoned and needs no sauce on the side. Lift the lid and the first thing you notice is the herb's slightly bitter scent.
Between the slightly bitter bangpung namul, a spring green also called sea breeze herb, and the sweetness of shrimp seasoned with mirin, the dish needs little more than a tablespoon of soy sauce. The spring leaves are thin, so they go in last with the soy and come off the heat while still bright green.
Rolled around a pan, garaetteok develops a thin, dried-out skin while the inside turns even softer. The soy, gochujang and honey glaze waits until the rice cake has browned, then goes on in two thin coats over low heat.
Butterfish has such fine, soft flesh that it falls apart easily when turned. The fillets go skin-side down and are left alone for a good while, then flipped once with a wide spatula. The gochujang paste, loosened with plum syrup, is brushed on very thinly, and a little lemon is squeezed over once the fish is plated.
There is kimchi in this soup but no chili flakes, so the broth stays clear while the sourness of white kimchi and its brine works its way into the clam stock. The clams come out as they open, and the stock is strained through a fine sieve before the kimchi goes in. If the kimchi is salty, the salt is left out.
Yukjeon gets only about a minute on each side. The beef round is sliced thin, and any longer toughens it quickly. Besides holidays and ancestral rites, it turns up whenever guests are expected, at a housewarming for instance.
With no chili, only soup soy sauce for seasoning, the broth stays clear and the clean taste of the puffer fish comes through. The garlic is kept to a minimum for the same reason. Use only professionally cleaned puffer fish from a verified supply chain.
The butter waits until the clams have opened. Added then, it blends with the clam juices into a glossy broth, while butter added at the start just floats as a slick of fat. Soju is boiled hard first to drive off the alcohol smell, and any clam that stays shut after cooking gets thrown away.
Tender amaranth leaves soak up a soy and vinegar brine quickly. The vinegar takes away their raw grassy taste, and sliced cheongyang chili and garlic leave a sharp finish. Washed greens need to air-dry completely on a rack, because leftover water clouds the brine.
Pork marinated in fish sauce, sugar, and garlic and seared over high heat develops a caramelized brown edge while the inside stays juicy. In this southern Vietnamese bowl it goes, still warm, over chilled rice vermicelli and raw greens, and that hot-cold contrast is much of the pleasure. A sweet-sour dressing of lime juice and fish sauce ties meat, noodles, and vegetables together with no broth at all.
Chicken breast browned deeply in butter, 4-5 minutes a side, carries its roasted flavor into the Parmesan cream sauce that goes on the fettuccine. Two things sour or split that sauce: garlic left to brown, and cheese added over strong heat, so the burner goes low before the Parmesan goes in. Pasta moves into the sauce straight from the water, while its surface starch still helps the sauce cling; reserved pasta water loosens it if it turns stiff. Plenty of black pepper cuts the richness.
Octopus that has already been boiled goes into a very hot pan for 2 to 3 minutes without turning, picking up a charred edge while the inside stays pleasantly chewy. The vinegar dressing, with gochugaru and garlic, starts sour and finishes with gentle heat. Minari, Korean water parsley, brings a cool grassy scent and a green that stands out against strips of red pepper.
Simmered slowly with pork shoulder and sausage, the white beans start to break down and thicken the broth on their own, without any roux. The work starts the day before, with the beans soaking for at least 8 hours.
No cream goes into this sauce; its sweetness and body come from onions cooked for 15 to 20 minutes until deep brown. A staple of Punjabi home cooking, it is scooped up with roti on an ordinary weeknight, and paired with fried bhatura it becomes chole bhature.