480 recipes. Page 13 of 20
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The eggplants are steamed whole, then torn by hand along the grain instead of sliced. The torn surface is rough, and the soy dressing clings to it. It is a summer side dish for when eggplants are everywhere, and it can go to the table chilled.
Salt pulls water out of raw oysters and tightens the flesh. After two to three days of cold curing they turn firm, and the red seasoning liquid soaks right through. The result tastes denser and saltier than a fresh oyster, closer to a seasoning than a side dish. Chili flakes give it the red color and a spicy aroma, and the acidity of plum syrup holds back the fishy smell that rises during curing. A small spoonful goes a long way over warm rice, and a little folded into napa cabbage kimchi filling adds an oyster savoriness that fish sauce alone lacks. The washed oysters are blotted dry before mixing, because leftover water thins the paste and softens the flesh.
Served without broth, these Shan-style rice noodles from Myanmar are tossed at the table with a topping of minced chicken cooked in soy sauce, fish sauce, and chili flakes. Garlic and onion sizzled until translucent form the aromatic base, and a final drizzle of warm pan oil carries that fragrance into every strand. The amount of chili flakes alone sets the heat. The noodles come out of the pot 30 seconds short of the package time, so they keep their bounce through the mixing. If the rinsed strands start to stick, a teaspoon of oil tossed through them first keeps them apart.
In Seoul and Gyeonggi people mostly say maneuljong, and elsewhere often maneuljjong, but both mean the same curling flower stalk of the garlic plant. Tender spring scapes get just 20 to 30 seconds in boiling water before going into a gochujang, vinegar, and sugar dressing, and they stay bright green with a firm snap.
Boneless mackerel means you can pour the doenjang broth straight over rice without picking out bones. Siraegi (dried radish greens) simmered until the stems are tender makes the broth deep and earthy, and the chili-seasoned fish gives it a little bite.
Kale, usually eaten raw as a leaf wrap in Korea, is stir-fried here into chili-seasoned pork. It stays bright green and stands out against the red meat.
The kimchi decides almost everything here. Well-fermented, sour kimchi goes in with plenty of its brine, which turns the broth a deep brick red; if yours is not sour yet, a little vinegar makes up the difference.
Half a tablespoon of doenjang goes into the gochujang seasoning, smoothing the sharp edge gochujang has on its own into something more savory. The pastes are fried in the pork fat over low heat for just a minute.
Soft, collapsing eggplant with springy shrimp in between. Oyster sauce goes in with the soy sauce, which makes it more savory than a plain eggplant braise, and with only a pinch of chili flakes it tastes salty and a little sweet rather than spicy.
Korean zucchini holds so much water that it keeps weeping after it is seasoned, and a pool of liquid gathers at the bottom of the container within a day. This kimchi is therefore made to be eaten fresh, within two days, rather than left to ferment. Salting stops at 15 minutes for the same reason: any longer and the slices give up too much moisture and turn soft instead of crisp. Plum syrup stands in for sugar, and garlic chives add a green, grassy note against the chili.
Shredded brisket, fernbrake, and bean sprouts fill a red, chili-oiled broth, and thin somyeon noodles take the place of the usual bowl of rice. The heat comes from gochugaru coated on the vegetables with sesame oil and fried briefly, and chili scorched at that point turns the whole pot bitter.
Minari, sold in English as water parsley, smells clean and green in a way parsley and celery do not, and the scent does not survive much heat. Past 20 seconds in the pot it leaves with the steam and only the crunch remains, which is why the blanching stops there.
Think of soft tofu stew (sundubu jjigae) made with just a cup of broth and poured straight over rice. Pork belly is cooked first so gochugaru and garlic can bloom in its fat, which gives the small amount of broth its heat. An egg cracked into the center and cooked only until the white just sets adds a soft, rich finish.
When kimchi has gone too sour, this is the first thing many Korean households think of making. The kimchi is cut without squeezing out its juices and fried with onion over medium heat until the liquid in the pan cooks down and clings to the leaves. Besides rice, it often goes on top of ramyeon.
The flavor of this broth comes from the innards packed in the crab's top shell. That is why the shells go into the pot with the radish before the bodies, so the innards can be stirred loose into the gochujang broth. It sits on a tabletop burner, and as it cooks down, a little water goes in so everyone can keep eating to the bottom.
A thick layer of radish, 350 g, lines the bottom of the pot and boils for ten minutes before the mackerel is laid on top. The radish soaks up the fish broth, and it goes over rice together with the little broth that is left.
The eggplant is sauteed in oil for a few minutes before the sauce goes in. Dropped straight into the liquid, it would release water and thin the seasoning. Any braising liquid left over can go into bibimbap.
Red cabbage leaves are thicker and denser than napa and stay crunchy after salting, though salting them longer only makes them tough. During about 12 hours in the fridge the cabbage bleeds its purple into the chili paste, and the kimchi comes out a deep violet rather than the usual red.
Miyeokgwi, the ruffled base of the sea mustard plant (sold as mekabu in Japan), is thicker and bumpier than the leaves and bounces back when you bite it. It is dressed sweet, sour, and hot with chili flakes, soy, vinegar, and sugar, then chilled for 10 minutes before serving.
Well-fermented sour kimchi goes in, and its sourness does the job of a sauce. When the kimchi is salty, the rest of the marinade goes in a little at a time rather than all at once, and wrapping bites in lettuce takes the edge off the heat.
Cod and pollock are soft-fleshed fish, so once the pieces are in the pot they are never turned; the spicy broth is just spooned over them. That is how the pieces stay whole all the way to the table. Swap in clams or shrimp and it becomes a seafood maeuntang.
Canned whelks need almost no prep: drain them and halve the large pieces. The meat is already cooked, and it goes in only after the cabbage and onion are tender, just to heat through for three minutes at most.
Giving the potatoes a 5-minute head start in plain water lines up their timing with the beltfish, and the starch they release thickens the sauce. Since beltfish breaks apart if handled often, the broth is ladled over rather than the pieces moved, and the reduced sauce is spooned onto rice with the fish.
Two fermented fish products go into this southern Korean kimchi, anchovy fish sauce and salted yellow croaker, layered for a saltier, deeper flavor than most napa kimchi. Finely chopped sea staghorn, a branching seaweed, adds a cool, briny savoriness that grows as the kimchi ripens. The chili flakes soak in glutinous rice paste first, which brightens the color and helps the paste cling to each leaf. The seasoning goes in generously, as is typical of Jeolla kimchi, and the heads are pressed down hard in the container because air contact gives fermenting kimchi a stale smell.