779 recipes. Page 16 of 33
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Most of the cooking time goes into onions stirred over low heat for forty minutes or more, until deep brown. Once beef stock is added and simmered, the soup is ladled into ovenproof bowls, topped with baguette and Gruyere, and set under the grill, and a spoon breaking the cheese brings up broth-soaked bread and sweet onion with it. Emmental melts just as well if there is no Gruyere.
As the clams open they release their briny liquor into the rice-water doenjang broth, and the zucchini stew tastes cleaner and brighter for it. Give the clams about an hour to purge their sand.
Lean pork tenderloin pulls apart after boiling into long, even strands that take up a soy reduction along every fiber. It tastes better fully chilled than straight from the pot, since the seasoning keeps settling into the meat as it cools. Whole garlic cloves braise alongside and soften enough to eat with the pork.
Scallion-infused oil, a hot wok and a quick toss of chili flakes give this red seafood soup its smoky, spicy base. The flakes stay in the oil only briefly, since even a little scorching leaves the whole pot bitter. Chicken stock carries the broth while squid and mussels add their own savoriness, and soy sauce ties the seasoning together and darkens the soup to a reddish brown. Wilted cabbage and onion soften the heat with sweetness. Seafood toughens with long boiling, so once the broth comes up to a boil it is ladled straight over chewy wheat noodles cooked in a separate pot.
Mala sauce, the numbing, chili-hot seasoning of Sichuan cooking, gets wrapped in cream, milk and Parmigiano, so the tingle stays but the burn is gentler. Chicken thigh is browned hard before the mala sauce is stirred in, so the meat picks up the spice before the cream does. Mala sauces differ a lot in saltiness from brand to brand, so the recipe starts with 1 tablespoon and leaves final seasoning until the cream is in. Pasta water, added a little at a time, keeps the cream sauce from splitting, and when it is right the sauce no longer pools in the pan but sits in the spirals of the fusilli.
Parboiling the diced potatoes for 5 minutes means the skillet only has one job left: crisping the outside. Wet potatoes steam rather than brown, so the steam has to escape fully before they hit the pan. Corned beef pulled apart along the grain seasons the potatoes as they fry together, and a pinch of paprika adds color. Once the onion and beef are in, the hash is pressed flat and left mostly unturned, which is what builds the firm crust on the bottom. A fried egg on top, yolk broken over the hash, finishes this brunch plate.
There is almost no sauce here, just minced lamb cooked until moist and clumping, to be spooned onto naan or chapati; the peas go in at the very end and still pop when bitten.
The tofu is browned on both sides before it ever meets the sauce, then set on a bed of thinly sliced onion and simmered in soy. By the time the sauce has reduced, the onion has all but melted away. Sliced cheongyang chili and scallion go on top for the last minute.
Pressed dry and broken up by hand into a mix of large curds and fine crumbs, the tofu is cooked over high heat with only occasional turning until the edges turn lightly golden and the crumbles are loose and fluffy. Seasoned simply with soy sauce and sesame oil, it works spooned over rice or packed in a lunch box, since there is no sauce to leak.
Potatoes and ground perilla seed cook in anchovy broth until it turns an opaque ivory. There is no doenjang and no seaweed, and no oil either; the body comes from potato starch and the perilla itself. It rarely appears on restaurant menus and belongs to winter meals at home.
Plenty of eolgari, young napa cabbage, goes in, and as it wilts its sweetness softens the doenjang. A good amount of tofu keeps the salt in check too.
Steaming instead of braising keeps this flounder milder and moister than the spicy simmered versions. The fish sits on sliced onion in a rimmed heatproof dish, where the soy sauce, rice wine and juices from the fish collect underneath as a ready-made sauce.
Instead of being boiled apart, the hand-cut noodles go straight into the anchovy and kelp stock, and their surface flour thickens the broth slightly. Potato and onion cook first, giving the soup a mild sweetness under the savory anchovy. Expect a lightly cloudy, silky broth rather than a clear one.
Most of the flavor comes from spreading the ground beef across a hot pan and letting the moisture cook off until brown bits form. Left in a heap, the meat steams pale instead. Tomato paste worked in between the meat without lumps, then a low simmer, gives a thick sauce that clings to the beef rather than pooling under the spaghetti. As it thickens it catches on the bottom easily and needs an occasional stir. There is no wine or milk, just beef, tomato, onion and garlic, finished with Parmesan and a few basil leaves.
A rich beef filling below and soft mashed potato on top make the contrast in this British home bake. Tomato paste, Worcestershire sauce, and beef stock give the meat a deep savory base, while carrots and peas add sweetness and color. The fork ridges dragged across the potato brown in the oven and turn into crisp little edges.
Mashed potato mixed with sauteed ground beef and onion gets shaped into ovals, coated in panko, and fried until golden. The crust shatters while the inside stays fluffy and potato-forward, plainer and heartier than cream-filled croquettes. Worcestershire or tonkatsu sauce goes on top, and in Japan butcher shops and delis sell them freshly fried to eat on the go. Fillings vary widely, from curry to crab cream to kabocha squash.
Ssukgat (crown daisy greens) goes in just long enough to wilt, so its bitter, herbal edge comes through clearly against the rich gochujang pork. The pork shoulder is seared in a smoking-hot pan for some browned flavor.
Seasoned with nothing but soy sauce and sesame oil, it has no heat at all. On the plate, golden pan-fried tofu sits among orange carrot and green pepper.
The clams spend an hour purging in salted water in the fridge, which rules this out as a last-minute soup. No stock goes in; thin potato slices shed a little starch into the clam broth and soften it.
The soft tofu slowly comes apart in the broth until the whole pot is silky, with crisp bits of young cabbage stem in between. Only a touch of gochujang goes into the doenjang, so it tastes savory more than spicy.
No meat goes into this braise, only eggplant and tofu sold for pan-frying; the eggplant drinks up the soy and chili sauce and turns silky, while the tofu, browned first, keeps its shape around it.
Curry roux dissolved into dashi instead of water gives this bowl a savory, brothy depth that curry rice does not have. The roux turns the stock into a thick gravy that clings to fat udon strands and comes up with every lift of the noodles.
Any vegetables left in the fridge can go into this soup, as long as the order holds: firm ones like carrot and celery soften in oil first, quick-cooking zucchini and beans come later. Ditalini cook directly in the pot, and their starch thickens the broth; if it turns too heavy, hot vegetable stock loosens it without cooling the soup down. Fresh basil and a drizzle of olive oil are added after the heat is off.
Ketchup simmered with curry powder, paprika, cider vinegar, and a little sugar becomes a tangy, spiced sauce for sliced grilled bratwurst, served with fries the way Berlin street stalls do it. The sauce tastes even more rounded after resting a day.