480 recipes. Page 19 of 20
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Winter oysters, plump at this time of year, share a doenjang broth with bitter-edged shepherd's purse. The base is kelp stock and radish, and the paste is held to 1.5 tablespoons, light enough that the oysters still taste of the sea.
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.
Big chunks of radish and plenty of cool, tangy brine make seokbakji a natural partner for rich bone broth soups like seolleongtang. Salted shrimp does more than season the chili paste; it lays down a fermented, savory base. A day at room temperature followed by two days in the fridge turns the water drawn from the radish into a refreshing, lightly sour brine. The salted radish is drained but not rinsed, so the salt it holds seasons the kimchi from inside.
Octopus (nakji), beef small intestine (gopchang), and shrimp (saeu) give this Busan-style hot pot both its name and three distinct chews under one spicy sauce. With only 200ml of stock, it cooks down to a thick, saucy stew rather than a soup, and once the glass noodles have soaked up the seasoning it is meant to be spooned over rice.
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.
A brief 12-minute salting wilts spinach leaves while the stems keep their snap, giving two textures in each bite. Sand lance fish sauce adds salty depth to the green, grassy flavor, and green plum syrup rounds off the salt. Thick stems are split in half so they season at the same pace as the leaves. Once it has chilled for at least six hours, it goes to the table cold with rice.
Springy pieces of octopus (nakji) turn up between soft curds of tofu. The egg goes in after the heat is off; break the yolk into the broth and the spice mellows.
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.
Sseumbagwi, a sharply bitter spring herb, soaks in cold water for 20 minutes before it ever meets the seasoning. Some bitterness is meant to remain: after a first ferment at room temperature and a stretch of refrigeration, savory and sour notes build over it, and the balance is best around day three. Sand lance fish sauce is milder than the anchovy sauce used for cabbage kimchi, so it leaves the herb's character intact, while sweet rice paste helps the dressing cling to thin stems.
Ninety grams of scorched rice, broken into chunks rather than crumbs, is added for the last three minutes. It is served while the edges have melted into the broth and thickened it but the centers still have some bite. Seasoning waits until the rice has swelled and the stew has thickened.
With only 80 ml of water in the pot, the sprouts cook in trapped steam under the chili-soy seasoning rather than being blanched first and dressed afterward. That small amount of liquid is why the sprouts are drained but not shaken bone dry: a little surface water tops up that steaming liquid.
Crown daisy keeps its bitter, herbal perfume even under a coat of gochugaru and sand lance fish sauce, and two hours at room temperature plus a day of cold storage bring that aroma to its clearest point. The salted leaves are drained in a sieve rather than squeezed, because the tender greens bruise and turn mushy under pressure.
Well-fermented sour kimchi is cut without shaking off its seasoning, so that paste goes into the broth too, and it simmers with pork shoulder that has a good streak of fat before thick slices of tofu go on at the end.
Sour, long-fermented kimchi and pork back ribs braise down together in one pot, so the first impression is tangy and savory before it is spicy. The riper the kimchi, the stronger its sourness and savory depth, which makes the state of the kimchi the biggest factor in how the dish turns out.
Diced turnip ferments submerged in a gochugaru broth, landing between cubed radish kimchi and water kimchi: more liquid than the first, redder and spicier than the second. Turnips are scrubbed with the skin on and only bruised spots are cut away, keeping their sweetness and firm texture. Salting lasts 25 minutes, and the water it draws out is poured away so no bitterness carries over. If turnip greens are on hand, a few chopped in with the roots ferment alongside and improve the aroma. After a day at room temperature, small bubbles and a light sour smell signal that the jar should move to the fridge for two more days.
Mackerel or beltfish both work for this spicy fish stew. The radish gets a five-minute head start, then the fish pieces are laid in a single layer and simmered with the lid slightly open to let the fishy steam escape.
Thick-cut onion and green onion line the pot so the squid sits above the bottom while a gochujang and chili-flake sauce steams it from the top. Gochujang gives a thick heat that clings to each piece, and the flakes add a sharper spiciness over it. Compared with stir-fried squid, there is no oil, and the moisture the vegetables release loosens the sauce enough to spoon over rice. Because squid toughens quickly, the whole cook stays around ten minutes, ending when the flesh turns opaque and the edges curl slightly. Cutting the vegetables thick and spreading the squid out without overlapping pieces is what lets both finish properly in that short window.
Big, thick Miike takana leaves are wilted for a day or two, layered with salt and chili powder, and pressed under a heavy stone to mature in their own brine until the rainy season has passed. After about a week the first brine is poured off and the leaves pressed again under the fresh liquid that rises. This long-fermented mustard-green pickle comes from Setaka in Fukuoka; Miike takana arose from a Sichuan green crossed with a local variety and is prized for crisp stems and a pungent smell. Older pickles grow more acidic and savory. Rinsed briefly in cold water if too salty and chopped fine, it is eaten with rice, in ramen or in stir-fries, and turmeric and whole chilies tucked between the leaves are the traditional additions for long storage.
Kimchi, ham, and tofu, all common refrigerator staples, come together into something close to a pared-down budae jjigae. Frying the kimchi for 2 minutes first tames its sourness so it blends with the salty ham and the sweet heat of gochujang instead of competing.
Radish and squid cook at very different speeds, so the radish half-moons simmer in soy broth until nearly tender before the squid rings go in for a brief final braise. Chili flakes and gochujang give a clean, peppery heat, while the radish softens it with its own sweetness. What's left in the pan is a small amount of thick, spicy sauce that tastes of both squid and radish, good spooned over rice.
Green cabbage leaves are thinner and firmer than napa, so they take salt quickly and turn tough rather than soft when left too long. Wide leaves and thick stems are cut to a similar size so one part does not finish salting before the other. The moment to stop salting is when a leaf bends but still snaps between the teeth. Draining matters more than it seems: leftover rinse water slides the chili paste off the leaves and thins the brine that forms later. Julienned carrot and scallion keep the color bright, and the jar moves to the fridge once liquid starts pooling after a short room-temperature ferment.
The blood curd (seonji) is cut in large pieces, so every spoonful catches a soft chunk, and the broth, with ugeoji (outer napa cabbage leaves) and soybean sprouts, is earthy and spicy. Haejang refers to easing a hangover, and this is what people reach for the morning after drinking.
Thick slices of ojingeo sundae (squid stuffed with noodles and vegetables) are braised in a gochujang sauce until a thin, glossy red coat clings to each cut face. Rather than flipping the slices, spoon the sauce over them so the filling stays put; some cooks add tteokbokki rice cakes to the pan as well.
Thin stems and tender leaves make young radish easy to bruise, and rough handling leaves a grassy, raw smell. Every stage from rinsing to mixing needs a light hand. As the paste settles in, the greens release liquid that becomes a tangy, chili-flecked brine, and pressing the greens down into it keeps the fermentation even. After roughly half a day at room temperature, small bubbles and a sour smell signal it is time for the fridge. In summer, when fermentation runs fast, it can be refrigerated straight away. Chilled, it is piled onto bibim-guksu or naengmyeon through the summer.