99 recipes. Page 2 of 5
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The nutty smell of sour kimchi fried in perilla oil meets the briny smell of fresh oysters in one pot. It is a winter stew, made when the kimchi has gone properly sour and the oysters are plump.
Tofu, spinach and shiitake share one covered pan over low heat without any frying, and the soy seasoning stays light and clean. The slices are pressed firmly between paper towels before they reach the pan, since water left in the tofu clouds the liquid and dilutes the seasoning. Shiitake supplies most of the savory depth in an otherwise plain sauce, while the spinach wilts down between the tofu slices. Perilla oil is drizzled on only after the heat is off, which keeps its nutty aroma from cooking away. Just a shallow pool of liquid gathers under the tofu, making this a side dish for chopsticks rather than a soupy one.
With no meat in the pot, the broth takes its savory backbone from oyster and shiitake mushrooms sauteed in perilla oil before the kelp stock goes in. Ground perilla seed stirred in at the end turns it milky and smooth, and slippery rice noodles glide through the thickened soup. Torn oyster mushrooms and thick shiitake slices supply the chew.
Chwinamul, a leafy Korean mountain green, gets only a 20-second blanch and an ice bath; left longer in boiling water, it loses both its herbal bitterness and its bright green color. Julienned apple and cucumber bring sweetness and juice, and thin red onion, soaked first in cold water, adds a sharp edge that keeps the plate light. The dressing loosens doenjang (Korean soybean paste) with lemon juice and thickens it with perilla oil into a nutty, tart coating rather than anything soup-like, and a salty doenjang can be thinned with a little water. The apple is cut last, after everything else is ready, to keep browning down. It sits somewhere between a seasoned namul side dish and a fruit salad, tastes clearest served cold, and is most fragrant with freshly harvested spring chwinamul.
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.
The radish greens are stripped of their tough stems, blanched and chopped fine, while the shrimp are not minced but lightly crushed with the back of a knife. The oil for sauteing them is perilla oil, not sesame.
Dried bottle gourd strips are thin slices of the gourd's inner flesh, and they need more than 30 minutes of soaking to turn chewy again. They cook in perilla oil, and the ground perilla seed goes in while a little liquid remains, soaking it up and clinging to the strips as a thick coating. It is a mild namul to set beside more strongly seasoned banchan.
With the ox bone broth made ahead, the work here is in the napa outer leaves (ugeoji). Blanched leaves are rubbed through with doenjang, chili flakes, garlic and perilla oil, then stir-fried in the pot for three minutes to bring up the doenjang aroma before the broth goes in.
Dried pollock strips toasted briefly in perilla oil give this clear, chili-free stew a nutty base, and napa cabbage softens slowly into it, adding its own sweetness. The pollock only gets a quick dip in water, since a long soak washes out its flavor.
Jijim uses far less liquid than a stew, so by the end the dried radish greens (siraegi) are coated in a glossy doenjang (Korean soybean paste) sauce with almost no broth left. Stripping the tough outer fibers matters: skipped, the stems stay stringy however long they cook.
Fresh noodles are laid over kimchi and oyster mushrooms, the lid goes on, and they cook in the steam rising from the kimchi juices. Almost no liquid is left at the end, so it looks like a stir-fry, but the sour, spicy kimchi flavor goes right through each strand.
Tapped with the back of a knife and torn lengthwise by hand, deodeok (a Korean mountain root) splits into chewy, fibrous strands, but pounded too hard the fibers crush and the chew is gone. A gochujang and vinegar dressing thickened with ground perilla seed gives it a nutty finish, and julienned apple softens the root's bitterness with sweet juice.
Swiss chard leaves are thicker and tougher than spinach, so they don't go limp even after sitting in their dressing for a while. The dressing is doenjang (Korean soybean paste), finished with ground perilla seed and perilla oil for a thick, nutty coating.
Naengi (shepherd's purse, a spring green) is spread over doenjang-seasoned rice to steam, and when the lid comes off its earthy spring scent rushes out. The doenjang is first fried in perilla oil with zucchini and onion, so every grain picks up its savory depth.
The tofu is pan-fried in perilla oil until golden before anything else, so it keeps its shape when it is tossed with the broccoli in the doenjang sauce.
Fat from the pork shoulder soaks into radish greens already rubbed with doenjang, and the broth turns heavy and reddish brown. It tastes deeper still after cooling once and reheating.
There is no chili anywhere in this tofu stew. Garlic and onion soften for a minute in a teaspoon of perilla oil, the stock goes in, and a tablespoon of soup soy sauce is all the seasoning it gets. Spinach is added at the very end, and the heat goes off while it is still bright green.
Doenjang and ground perilla seeds turn dried radish greens into a soft, nutty side dish with just enough broth left to spoon up. Peeling off the stringy outer skin of the stems matters more than cooking time; left on, it stays tough however long the pot simmers.
Without gochujang in the mix, the toasty, nutty perilla oil carries this buckwheat makguksu, dressed with just soy sauce, vinegar, and a little allulose syrup. With such a simple dressing, any water pooling under the noodles dilutes it immediately.
King oyster mushrooms sliced lengthwise and seared in a dry pan turn golden outside and stay chewy inside, giving this salad its meaty bite. Perilla oil, nutty and slightly grassy, meets lemon juice in the dressing so a light acidity lifts the browned mushrooms. Shredded perilla leaves bring a sharp herbal aroma that fades quickly once dressed. The bowl is best eaten soon after tossing.
Gondeure, a thistle-family mountain green from the Jeongseon and Taebaek highlands of Gangwon Province, is better known as the base of gondeure-bap, a rice dish cooked with the greens. Dressed with perilla oil, soy sauce, and garlic, it has a soft herbal scent close to mugwort along with an earthy, forest-floor note. Squeeze the boiled greens gently and leave them slightly moist, and chop the tougher stems finer than the leaves so every bite chews the same.
Soy-marinated beef lines the bottom of the pot, the rice is layered over it, and siraegi (boiled dried radish greens) tossed with doenjang and perilla oil crowns the rice as it cooks. The beef seasons the lower layer while the greens season the upper one. A gentle stir at the end brings the two together.
Smoked duck goes into the pan first, and the fat it gives off is what the onion and oyster mushrooms cook in, and the vegetables pick up the smoke too. If there is more fat than needed, pour off all but a tablespoon. The gochujang and syrup sauce is sweet and hot, the kind of thing that goes with a drink.
No meat goes into this one, only dried radish greens, doenjang and anchovy stock. Drying leaves the greens slightly bitter, and that bitterness stays in the pot on purpose. Strip it all out and the soup stops tasting like siraegi-guk.