689 recipes. Page 4 of 29
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Everything in this napa cabbage doenjang soup is easy to find, and half a spoonful of gochujang gives the broth a reddish tint and a mild heat. Doenjang brands differ a lot in saltiness. The paste goes in light at first, and the pot is adjusted with more doenjang or water at the end.
Chopped napa kimchi and grated potato share one batter, yet the kimchi's sour, fermented tang and the potato's mild sweetness stay distinct within the same pancake. Where kimchi juice meets the pan over medium-high heat, the edges darken into a toasty crust.
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.
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.
Two slices of cheese melt over spicy instant ramen into a thin, stretchy film that wraps the noodles, and the heat comes down a notch. Turn the heat off while the noodles are still slightly firm; they finish cooking in the hot broth as the cheese melts.
Leek-like daepa scallions are shredded into fine threads along the grain and soaked in cold water, which takes off the harsh bite and makes the strands curl lightly. The mellowed shreds are heaped beside grilled meat and picked up together with each slice.
Hot-water dough is rolled thin, brushed with sesame oil, salted and scattered with scallion, then rolled into a log, coiled like a snail shell and pressed flat. The oil-and-roll step happens only once, yet when the pancake comes out of a medium-hot pan and is torn open, it separates into thin layers, with edges that crackle.
Despite the name, this muchim spends time in a skillet: the blanched greens are stir-fried in perilla oil and simmered briefly in water, giving them the softer texture of a sauteed namul. Perilla powder stirred into the remaining liquid thickens it into a pale, nutty paste that coats every leaf and stem. Seasoning the greens with soup soy sauce, garlic, and green onion before they hit the pan lets the stems absorb salt as they simmer.
In Vietnam this is what people eat for breakfast or when they are feeling unwell, much the way Koreans turn to dakjuk. The broth carries a quiet heat from sliced ginger, and the seasoning is fish sauce rather than soy.
King oyster mushrooms are torn lengthwise by hand, so their fibrous grain stays intact. They are seared in a dry pan first to drive off moisture, which is why the soy sauce clings as a dark glaze instead of turning watery.
The filling uses both pork and beef, with wrung-out tofu, chopped onion and green onion, all kneaded in one direction only. Any water left in the tofu or vegetables loosens the filling and pools inside the wrappers as they steam.
Cheek meat comes from a muscle that works constantly. Its grain is fine and dense and the collagen gives a springy chew. Fat and lean alternate across each slice, with richness shifting from bite to bite.
Midwinter napa cabbage grows sweeter the more cold it weathers, and simmered from cold water with radish it sweetens the broth with no separate stock. The oysters go in last for a minute or two, and since they bring plenty of salt, the soy sauce stays light.
These coaster-sized kimchi pancakes stand two or three to a cup and are eaten out of hand, the way they might be at a pojangmacha, one of Korea's covered street stalls. The batter is kept thicker than for a regular kimchi pancake, which stops the rounds from slumping inside the cup, and some kimchi brine goes into it as well. Soy sauce or vinegared gochujang comes alongside.
Kimchi goes down first, then Spam, sausages, tofu and rice cakes are laid over it in neat rows by type, with the seasoning paste piled in the middle. The water is poured in around the edge rather than the center to keep those rows in place.
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.
Instead of a soup, ground perilla seed, perilla oil, and soup soy sauce form a thick, nutty sauce that clings to fine somyeon noodles. Chwinamul, a Korean wild aster green, brings a distinctive mountain-herb scent that the toasted perilla balances. The greens are blanched only briefly and shocked in cold water, so they stay deep green with some bite. Spring chwinamul has the strongest aroma.
Parsley makes up most of the bowl, with grains of bulgur scattered through the chopped green rather than the other way round. Mint and lemon juice bring a cool, sour lift, and thinly sliced green onion adds a sharp edge. The herbs are chopped with a sharp, upright knife so the leaves are cut, not crushed, and keep their aroma. Mushy bulgur blurs into the herbs, and the soak stops while the grains are tender with a little chew left. Water from any of three places, the soaked bulgur, the washed herbs, or the tomato's seedy center, ends up as thin dressing pooled in the bowl. The cooled bulgur takes the dressing first and is seasoned on its own before the vegetables join it.
A thin flour crepe goes into the pan first, then an egg is poured over it and scattered with scallion, and as the egg sets the two become one sheet. It is a griddle item at Taiwanese breakfast stalls, where the thickness of the batter and the cooking time differ from one stall to the next, and so does the chew. Folded or rolled and cut into pieces, it comes with soy sauce, sometimes with chili oil too.
Braised in the same pot, the tofu turns soft enough to break under a spoon while the shrimp curl up firm and springy. A little of the braising liquid is left in the pan on purpose, for spooning over rice.
Fatty beef large intestine is glazed in a sweet, spicy soy sauce and set over rice with onion that has soaked in cold water, a raw egg yolk and fresh wasabi. The wasabi stays on the side, unmixed, and goes on a little at a time with each bite.
The beef sits in a pear juice and soy marinade for 10 minutes, then shiitake, king oyster mushrooms and onion are tossed into the same bowl before anything hits the heat. With everything going in at once, a small pan is better worked in two batches. Apple juice can stand in for the pear juice if the sugar is cut back a little.
Kelp-steeped water carries the gochujang and chili flakes, and the rice cakes simmer in it long enough to soak up the sauce rather than just wear it. Unlike stir-fried versions, this one should still have plenty of broth in the pot when the heat is turned off.
Under foil in a 180°C oven, the ribs first cook through and soften, then come uncovered at higher heat so the soy and honey glaze turns glossy. Splitting it into two stages tenderizes the meat near the bone before the surface has a chance to burn.