683 recipes. Page 11 of 29
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Chewy squares of Korean fish cake (eomuk) are mixed with crisp onion and carrot. Soy sauce and oligo syrup give a sweet-salty glaze, and a cheongyang chili tossed in at the end adds a little heat.
Chicken hearts turn chewy and springy on the skewer, and their flavor builds the longer you chew. Halving each heart and clearing out blood clots and the thin membrane is what keeps the taste clean rather than gamey. A thin glaze of soy sauce, oligosaccharide syrup, and mirin brushed on both sides adds a sweet-salty shine, finished with sesame oil and black pepper.
Cheek meat comes from a muscle that works constantly. Its grain is fine and dense and the collagen gives a springy chew. Fat and lean alternate across each slice, with richness shifting from bite to bite.
Maesaengi, a winter seaweed, grows in strands as fine as thread, and once it is loosened with chopsticks in anchovy stock the whole pot turns deep green within minutes. Its aroma fades with long cooking, so three to four minutes is all it gets.
Each piece of eggplant gets a deep cross cut that stops just short of the base, which opens it up like a pocket for a beef and tofu filling before it is steamed. Stuffing every piece by hand takes time, and the dish was traditionally kept for guests and feasts.
Crumbled gamtae, a fine seaweed closer to green laver than to roasted gim sheets, releases a sharper, rawer ocean aroma the moment it lands on the noodles. A minimal dressing of toasted sesame oil and soy sauce takes a thin, even coat on well-drained, cold-rinsed somyeon, carrying the seaweed rather than competing with it.
The bitter, earthy smell of naengi (shepherd's purse), a Korean spring green, plays against the rich fat of quickly seared beef sirloin. Thin strips of Korean pear add sweetness and moisture, and the soy dressing gets its sweet-sour edge from vinegar and plum extract. After blanching, the greens are pressed gently by the handful rather than wrung hard, which keeps their aroma. Letting the dressed salad sit for about 5 minutes before serving helps everything come together.
The sauce never goes near the stove: soy sauce, chili flakes, chopped scallion, garlic, and sesame oil are stirred together and spooned straight over thick slices of tofu fresh from the pan. Only the scallion softens a little in the heat coming off the tofu. Every household mixes it differently, some easing off the chili flakes, others adding a fresh hot chili.
There is no stock here, only water, but onion and ginger sautéed in sesame oil before the rice goes in keep the porridge from tasting flat. Flecks of red crab and green bok choy show through the white rice.
Thick 1 cm half-moons of eggplant get a seared face before they are turned, so the pieces hold their shape and only the centers go soft, unlike limp versions of this banchan. Stirring too early stops the browning, and stirring too long makes the slices collapse.
Under foil in a 180°C oven, the ribs first cook through and soften, then come uncovered at higher heat so the soy and honey glaze turns glossy. Splitting it into two stages tenderizes the meat near the bone before the surface has a chance to burn.
This is a soup for November through February, the months when maesaengi (a seaweed as fine as thread) and oysters are both in season. The seaweed spreads loose through the broth, so every spoonful lifts green threads along with an oyster or two.
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.
Beaten egg poured in a thin stream turns into silky floating ribbons on a clear chicken broth, the signature look of this Korean-Chinese noodle soup. Tip it in all at once and it sets into large curds instead. Chicken breast pulled into fine threads tangles with the noodles rather than sitting apart in chunks, and seasoning stays light, just soy sauce and pepper with a few drops of sesame oil.
Oyster mushrooms seared in a dry pan lose their water, brown at the edges, and concentrate their savory flavor. They are tossed with baby greens and briefly blanched naengi (shepherd's purse), which keeps its earthy spring smell. The dressing loosens doenjang, Korean fermented soybean paste, with yuja marmalade and vinegar. The result tastes nutty, tangy, and lightly citrusy at once. Halved cherry tomatoes burst with juice that lightens the heavy fermented notes.
Cheongyang peppers, the hottest everyday chili in Korea, carry this raw soy dressing, and keeping or scraping out their seeds sets how sharp it gets. The tofu needs a hot pan and high heat until the underside turns deep brown; drop the heat and the tofu releases water and steams, losing the contrast between crust and soft center.
Air-fried chicken tenders go onto the sesame-salt rice straight from the basket, while the coating is still hot and firm, and get rolled at once. Waiting lets moisture from the rice and lettuce soften the crust before the roll is even closed.
Eggplant in summer drinks oil readily. Here the cut pieces are salted briefly and patted dry, which cuts down how much they soak up, then stir-fried with pork in a salty soy and oyster sauce.
Pear, onion and garlic are blended smooth as the base of the marinade, and the ribs can sit in it overnight. The leftover marinade has held raw pork, so it gets boiled once in a small pot before being brushed on as the ribs grill. Eat them wrapped in lettuce or with rice.
Store-bought frozen dumplings go straight into boiling anchovy stock without thawing, and in about five minutes they float. Many Korean families make this instead of tteokguk at Lunar New Year, and adding rice cakes turns it into tteok-manduguk.
The usual way galbi jjim goes wrong is that the liquid cooks down while the beef is still tough. Before reducing the sauce, check that a chopstick slides into the meat; if it doesn't, add a splash of water, cover and keep going.
Thick udon wears a coat of red gochujang dressing in this cold cup, with raw shredded cabbage and carrot adding crunch against the soft noodles. Oligosaccharide syrup gives the sauce enough body to cling to slippery udon, and vinegar keeps the heat bright rather than heavy. The frozen udon is blanched for just 1 minute so the thick strands keep their spring. Cabbage and carrot are pressed dry with a paper towel first to keep their water from thinning the dressing. Portioned into cups, it is easy to carry and eat by hand, though it tastes best served cold right away before the noodles swell.
Doenjang, Korean fermented soybean paste, carries this cucumber side dish, with only half a tablespoon of chili flakes, and it tastes gentler than the red, spicy oi-muchim. The cucumbers are cut fairly thick and salted only briefly to stay cold, juicy and crisp under a thin coat of paste.
Braised in the same pot, the tofu turns soft enough to break under a spoon while the shrimp curl up firm and springy. A little of the braising liquid is left in the pan on purpose, for spooning over rice.