689 recipes. Page 21 of 29
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Country-style doenjang gives this stew a dense, earthy body, and the Cheongyang chili added at the very end cuts through it with a sharp, clean heat. Half a block of tofu is torn by hand into rough chunks and simmered gently for 3 minutes so the pieces hold together.
The firm, slightly chewy flesh of half-dried pollock holds together through a long spicy braise and takes the seasoning all the way in. Gochugaru and gochujang together give the sauce body and a deep red color, and a spoonful of syrup added near the end gives it shine. Basting two or three times beats flipping, which only tears the fish. When the sauce turns thick and sticks to the pollock, it is ready to serve with the radish and a bowl of rice.
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.
Grilled tteokgalbi, Korean short rib patties, are cut into bites and returned to the pan with onion in a soy and syrup sauce just long enough to turn glossy. The heat goes off while a little sauce still pools in the pan, and that goes over the rice too. A soft fried egg sits on top, its yolk broken and mixed through.
Chicken cartilage gives a crunch first and then a chew. The longer it cooks, the more that crunch turns tough, so the cartilage is marinated for 10 minutes and then stir-fried hard and fast. Gochujang, chili flakes and hot Cheongyang chilies pile up into a fiery bar snack.
Three potatoes, anchovy stock and a spoonful of doenjang are all it takes, which makes it a standby when the fridge is running low. Starch from the potatoes thickens the soybean-paste broth slightly as they cook.
Dried radish greens (siraegi) sauteed in perilla oil bring a nutty, chewy base, and clams add a clean, briny broth on top of it. The clams are added near the end and release salt as they open, so final seasoning waits until after they do.
Dried only partway in the sea wind on Korea's east coast, kodari pollock keeps some moisture in its flesh. Braised, it turns chewy without the dry, fibrous texture of fully dried hwangtae or bugeo. Radish under the fish keeps it off the hot pot bottom while a spicy-sweet sauce of gochujang, gochugaru, soy sauce and sugar cooks into it over about half an hour. It tastes even better after a night in the fridge, and leftover sauce makes a good bibimbap seasoning.
Adding thin wheat noodles to rice cake and dumpling soup makes a heartier bowl, and every spoonful pulls up something different: chewy rice cake, a dumpling, a tangle of soft noodles. The noodles are boiled separately so the milky bone broth stays clean.
Chicken thigh and green onion are threaded onto skewers and cooked in a skillet, then brushed again and again with a thin coat of tare, a sweet glaze of soy sauce, mirin, and sugar. Thigh meat has enough fat to stay juicy through that repeated searing. Laid over hot rice, the glaze runs down between the grains and no extra sauce is needed.
A shallow crosshatch scored on the inside of the squid body opens up as it cooks, curling each piece and letting the gochujang sauce work into the cuts. Score too deep and the body tears apart; the knife should only graze the surface.
Doenjang and chili flakes go in together, turning the pork bone broth red but earthy, and the spine, halved potatoes and dried cabbage greens cook down in it. Two tablespoons of ground perilla seed go in near the end, and leaving them out changes the stew a great deal.
Ground perilla seed turns the rice-rinse broth beige and thick, and it eats more like a cream soup than a red jjigae. The dried radish greens (siraegi) need their tough outer skin peeled off, or they stay stringy.
Spicy pork and bean sprouts, usually a stir-fry, are steamed in this version, which uses no oil and lets the gochujang and gochugaru seasoning come through more directly. As the sprouts wilt under the lid they release water that turns into a light broth and carries the seasoning into the pork shoulder, while their remaining crunch eases the heat. Spreading the meat thin and low over the sprouts lets it cook at the same pace throughout. The dish is served as soon as it is done, before the sprouts give off too much water and turn limp. Rice or thin somyeon noodles stirred into the leftover broth finish the pot.
Thin instant noodles and thick, chewy tteokbokki rice cakes cook in one pot, so the spicy broth carries two very different bites. Both keep drinking the broth after the heat goes off, and a bowl left sitting ends up with little soup and soft noodles. The egg is cracked in whole and either basted with broth for a soft yolk or boiled 1 minute more to set firm.
A whole salmon fillet cooks right on top of the soaked rice, and only after resting is it broken into big flakes and folded through. The finish is soy sauce, a knob of butter, and lemon juice, which makes the rice rich and savory with a bright edge. Thick fillets can still be underdone at the center when the rice is ready. A thermometer reading of 63°C at the thickest point is the signal to stop.
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.
A generous amount of ground perilla seed turns this gamjatang (pork spine and potato stew) pale and creamy, and with the same chili flakes it still tastes milder than the usual red pot.
Radish lines the bottom of the pot, dried radish greens go on top, and mackerel sits above both, with rice-rinse water poured slowly in at the edge. Chili flakes alone, no gochujang, keep the broth a clear red rather than a cloudy one. The mackerel is cooked on the bone, and the flesh is picked off with chopsticks at the table.
Tender raw soybean leaves are stacked two or three at a time with a thin spread of soy and chili seasoning between them, steamed briefly, then peeled off one by one to wrap around a bite of rice. Steaming softens the coarse veins, and green plum syrup rounds off the saltiness of the soy so the grassy taste of the leaves still comes through behind the garlic and chili. It works warm or cooled as a side dish; the seasoning stays put between the layers.
A quick winter supper from farm kitchens in Kagawa, uchikomi-jiru cooks fresh, slightly thick noodles directly in a root-vegetable miso soup. Kagawa's celebrated handmade udon is boiled on its own; this everyday dish skips that step, and the flour on the noodles thickens the broth. Low rainfall made the region good for growing wheat, and the Seto Inland Sea supplied the dried sardines for the dashi.
The chicken flavor comes in twice: breast meat poached separately with green onion and ginger, then shredded, and a full pot of chicken stock as the cooking liquid. Lotus root is minced only a little larger than the rice grains, enough to give a slight bite inside the smooth porridge without feeling like separate chunks.
Fresh okara soaks up a dashi simmered with carrot, burdock and shiitake until it is moist yet crumbles apart under a spatula. Once the okara goes in, it needs constant turning from the bottom of the pot or it sticks. The dish is done before it dries out: no loose liquid, but still damp enough to clump and fall apart again.
The shredded pollock is fried in sesame oil until golden before any water goes in, and that step gives this Gangwon version a nuttier smell than ordinary bugeoguk. It is a clear hangover soup with no chili, finished with beaten egg that sets into soft curds.