779 recipes. Page 14 of 33
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Chicken gizzards have a springy, chewy bite, and peeling off the silver membrane and any off-smelling bits, then a quick blanch, keeps their flavor clean. They toughen when cooked too long, yet the thickest one still has to reach 74°C at the center, and that reading, not the reduced sauce, decides when to stop.
Smoked haddock warmed in milk with a bay leaf flavors the whole pot, and that infused milk becomes the base of this soup named after the village of Cullen in northeast Scotland. There is no salt in the ingredient list because smoked fish brings its own, and how much varies by product. Fully cooked potato, not cream or flour, thickens it.
Finely mashed tofu worked into the ground beef keeps these bite-size patties from turning dry. They belong on ancestral rite and holiday tables, and because they taste and feel much the same once cold, they also pack well in a lunch box.
Blanched radish greens, rather than dried siraegi, sit in a broth made thick and nutty with four tablespoons of perilla seed powder. The shrimp are added well after the greens, which need about ten minutes to soften; shrimp left in that long turn firm instead of springy.
The sea bream is steamed whole and goes to the table that way, which is why the dish turns up at holiday meals and when guests come. Soy sauce never touches the fish before steaming; it is heated, mixed with the juices that collect on the plate, and spooned over at the end.
Japaguri, known abroad as ram-don since a film introduced it to international audiences, cooks a black bean sauce instant noodle and a spicy one together so the roasted-bean sweetness runs straight into chili heat. Onion and green onion fried in oil first lay down a sweet, savory base. Only half the spicy seasoning is added, enough heat without burying the jjajang flavor, and that packet is also the dial for anyone who wants more fire. Once the noodles are about 80 percent cooked, all but roughly 120 ml of the water is poured off: leave more and the sauce tastes thin, leave less and it turns stiff. The pot comes off the heat when the sauce clings glossily to every strand.
Onion, carrot, celery and zucchini are all cut to about 1 cm so a single spoonful catches vegetables, kidney beans and small pasta together. Size matters more than it looks: an oversized carrot stays firm while smaller zucchini pieces collapse in the same simmer.
Cherry tomatoes burst as they cook, and their juice mixes with salty black olives, capers, and thyme into a bright southern French sauce. Skin-on thighs are essential: searing the skin over high heat until deep golden gives both crisp texture and the browned layer in the pan that white wine later dissolves into the sauce. The finished sauce is reduced just enough to coat a spoon thinly and cling to the chicken rather than run off.
A mackerel that has already been grilled whole is broken into large pieces and simmered a second time with onion. In inland Tottori, grilled fish kept and traveled well, and cooking it again this way became the habit. Even with the head and backbone gone, small bones stay in the grilled flesh, and a fingertip run along it finds them. Ginger is used twice: thin slices go into the broth, and fine shreds go on top.
Chicken thigh, cabbage and onion stir-fried with gochujang and chili flakes get cold rice tossed in, turning dakgalbi into fried rice. Once it is mixed, the rice is pressed against the pan for 30 seconds to sear the bottom, then covered with mozzarella and melted under a lid.
Young spring mugwort is mild, with little bitterness, and lean chicken breast leaves its grassy scent clear. The seasoning is kept light with soup soy sauce and cooking wine, and the mugwort, tough stems picked out, goes in last and comes off the heat while still bright green.
After the whole chicken has simmered for fifty minutes, the meat comes off and the bones go back in alone for another fifteen, releasing gelatin that gives the clear broth a gentle body. Unlike samgyetang, it has no ginseng or glutinous rice, only onion, garlic and ginger, so the taste is mostly chicken.
Shredded cabbage and drained tuna are bound with an egg batter and fried as several small, thin rounds instead of one large pancake. Small rounds lose moisture quickly: the rims crisp fast, and they are easier to turn.
The pork back ribs simmer on their own for 25 minutes, until the meat pulls easily off the bone, before the potatoes and seasoning go in. The perilla leaves are laid on top in large pieces at the very end; cooked too long, they turn astringent instead of fragrant.
The oyster mushrooms are torn by hand into thick strips along the grain, and they stay chewy even after the braise. The sauce starts from plain water rather than stock; the mushrooms give it all the savoriness it needs.
The noodles, beef, spinach, carrot and onion are each cooked on their own and only combined at the end. There is a single batch of soy sauce, sugar and sesame oil: a little goes on the beef as a marinade, and whatever is left seasons the noodles.
Lentils simmered for about 30 minutes in tomato and vegetable stock stand in for ground meat, giving the ragu a similar small, chewy grain without any meat at all. Finely chopped onion, carrot and celery are sweated rather than browned, and the kimchi only joins in the final minutes so its sour bite stays distinct. Broad tagliatelle carries the thick sauce.
Spread all the way to the edge, the cheese melts into a glue that holds the two tortillas together and lets the wedges cut cleanly with the filling in place. Sharp cheddar brings flavor while mozzarella brings stretch, wrapped around paprika-seasoned chicken thigh, onion, and bell pepper. To protect the crunch, the vegetables are cooked only until the pan bottom looks fairly dry, as moisture from the filling is what usually ruins it. Cut into 8 wedges and serve warm with sour cream or salsa.
Idli are plain, spongy steamed cakes made from fermented rice and urad dal batter, and their job is to soak up sambar, a tangy, warm lentil stew. This version starts from ready-made idli batter, skipping the soaking, grinding, and overnight fermentation.
Mozzarella melted over gochujang-glazed chicken thigh pulls into long strands and softens the chili heat. A pan that is not hot enough lets the cabbage and onion release water, and the sauce ends up thin instead of clinging.
Dallae, Korean wild chives with small white bulbs, join the gochujang pork only once the meat is fully cooked. They get a single minute over the flame and finish wilting in the residual heat after it is turned off. Their sharp, pungent scent is strongest at the white bulb end.
Bite-size chicken thigh gets a one-minute blanch in boiling water before the soup proper begins, and the broth stays clear despite the meat. The radish is sliced thin and flat, turning translucent in ten minutes, and the seasoning is soup soy sauce and salt, with no chili.
With no meat or seafood, the broth depends almost entirely on the doenjang itself. Every brand is salted differently, so the paste goes in a little at a time, tasting as you go.
The longer the kimchi has sat in the fridge and the sourer it has become, the better it suits this braise. Simmered with soy sauce and gochugaru (Korean chili flakes), its sharp acidity softens, and the tofu, laid in raw without frying, soaks up the red liquid to the middle.