682 recipes. Page 3 of 29
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Toasting the rice in sesame oil first keeps its starch from rushing out all at once, and the porridge sticks to the pot less. The doenjang (Korean soybean paste) is pushed through a fine sieve into anchovy broth, and finely chopped napa cabbage and onion melt into the rice over 20-plus minutes at a low simmer.
King oyster mushrooms are torn lengthwise by hand, so their fibrous grain stays intact. They are seared in a dry pan first to drive off moisture, which is why the soy sauce clings as a dark glaze instead of turning watery.
Pan-fried tofu and sour kimchi stir-fried with ground pork take turns on a skewer, turning the classic tofu-and-kimchi plate into something you hold in one hand. Leaving the tofu untouched until its underside sets gives it a crust strong enough to survive the skewer.
Flat slices of jeolpyeon, a plain Korean rice cake, are pan-fried in sesame oil until a thin skin forms, then a soy, honey, and sugar sauce goes in and the heat drops to low for just two or three minutes of turning until they shine. The glaze burns quickly, so the heat goes off as soon as almost no syrup is left in the pan, and sesame seeds and pine nuts go on top.
The soy and honey glaze goes on in two rounds, so the bollak, a small Korean rockfish, comes out with a dark, glossy brown skin. The fish is lean and dries out quickly, so keep the grilling short.
The dried pollock strips soak in cold water for only five minutes. Any longer and the savory flavor leaches out while the flesh goes soft. Toasted in sesame oil and simmered with bean sprouts for fifteen minutes, they turn the broth faintly milky, and a spoonful of doenjang makes a heavier version.
Four shiitake, finely chopped, go into the ground beef, and the mushroom's grain turns up in every mouthful of meat.
With no chili, the broth stays clear and tastes plainly of sweet radish and beef. Once the radish turns translucent, rice goes straight into the bowl.
Blanched napa cabbage leaves are rolled around a filling of minced pork and mashed tofu, then steamed. The filling needs two or three minutes of kneading to turn sticky, or the rolls come undone in the pot, and each roll sits seam-side down. Stir a little starch into the leftover cooking liquid and it becomes a sauce to go with them.
Tearing steamed eggplant by hand along its grain, instead of slicing it, leaves ragged surfaces that pull the chili, garlic and fish sauce dressing deep between the fibers. There is no fermentation, so it is eaten the day it is made, ideally in summer when eggplant is in season and a quick extra side dish is needed. Spooned over cold rice and mixed, it becomes a simple meal on its own, with soft eggplant and spicy dressing coating every grain.
Beef and shiitake share one soy and garlic marinade and hit the pan together, letting the mushrooms soak up the meat juices instead of tasting like a separate vegetable. What sets this japchae apart is the last step: after everything is tossed in a bowl, it goes back into a hot pan just long enough to drive off loose seasoning. The noodles should end up clear and bouncy with no thin sauce pooling underneath. Sweet and salty japchae like this is a fixture of Chuseok, Seollal and birthday tables in Korea.
Rubbing bellflower root with salt, rinsing it, then blanching it for just 3 minutes takes away bitterness while keeping a firm crunch. Julienned Korean pear brings cool sweetness to a sharp, spicy dressing of gochugaru (Korean chili flakes) and vinegar. A teaspoon of fish sauce gives the seasoning depth, and sesame oil goes in last so its aroma stays on top. The pear loses juice and softens the earlier it goes in, so the root is seasoned first and the pear folded in at the very end. It is best eaten while both are still crisp, when bitter root, sweet pear and sharp dressing shift from one to the next in each bite.
These are the steamed pork ribs that come in little dishes at dim sum. Coarsely chopped douchi, salted fermented black beans, keeps its salty, funky smell through the steaming and ends up in the juicy meat.
Peeled and sliced thin, the broccoli stem cooks in the same 1 minute 30 seconds as the florets and goes into the bowl with them, leaving nothing from the head to waste. Pull the broccoli while it is still bright and firm, because overcooked florets break apart as soon as the dressing is folded in.
Made with vegetable broth, this porridge gets its sweetness from napa cabbage. The white stems go in with the rice and the leaves about 10 minutes later, since the two cook at different speeds. Soft tofu, roughly crumbled by hand, simmers only for the last 3 minutes.
Shiitake, enoki and oyster mushrooms share one pan, and each keeps its own texture: chewy, threadlike and thick. The first wave of liquid they release has to evaporate over high heat, and the ground perilla seed waits until the mushroom edges look slightly dry. Added any sooner, it turns into a damp paste instead of clinging.
Soy sauce and sugar replace the usual red gochujang, so the rice cakes taste like Korean soy-marinated galbi rather than spicy street tteokbokki. The marinated boneless pork rib is seared hard first, then water lifts the browned glaze off the pan and carries the meat flavor into the sauce.
Bite into one and the brown sugar, melted during steaming, runs out as a sticky syrup with cinnamon and bits of walnut. Breaking up any brown sugar lumps by hand beforehand helps it melt evenly. The cakes are done when the surface looks translucent and glossy, and a thin brush of sesame oil before the soybean powder keeps them from sticking together.
Grated Korean pear does two jobs in this marinade: its enzymes soften the thin slices of sirloin, and its sugars meet the soy sauce to form the sweet, salty gloss that bulgogi is recognized by. Whether that gloss forms depends on the pan. When all the beef goes into the pan at once, the temperature drops and the meat stews in its own liquid, turning gray and chewy instead of browning at the edges. Onion and scallion marinate alongside the beef and soak up the same seasoning. Spoon it over rice or wrap it in lettuce.
After soaking, the dried pollack strips are picked over for thick bones, torn by hand, and toasted in sesame oil until their edges curl before any water goes in. Tofu and egg poured in a circle keep the broth clear and mild, and in Korea it is a common pot the morning after a night of drinking.
The gochujang is stirred into the stock rather than fried in the oil, so there is no scorched edge and the broth comes out an even orange. Clams and shrimp layer their sea flavor over the anchovy stock.
Oyster, shiitake and enoki mushrooms differ in thickness and density and cook at different speeds even under the same steam. The firmer shiitake and oyster mushrooms go underneath, the quick-wilting enoki on top, and the dish comes off the heat before the enoki go limp.
No fermentation is needed: the soy-based seasoning is brushed between the leaves and the kimchi is ready to eat the same day. Sesame oil softens the sharp, herbal edge of perilla, and the chili flakes stay light enough that the green of the leaves still shows. On day one the brightly seasoned top leaves are the ones to eat, while the wilted leaves underneath soak up more after half a day. Two to three refrigerated days let the seasoning reach into every leaf, ready to wrap warm rice or grilled meat.
Shiitake carries the chew in this meatless japchae, cut into long thin strips alongside the onion and carrot. The seasoning is split: half dresses the sauteed vegetables, and the rest is stir-fried with the boiled noodles so they take on flavor of their own.