323 recipes. Page 2 of 14
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Red chili and Cheongyang chili, both sliced on the bias, go into this clear clam broth, but not until two minutes before the heat goes off. The base is just radish simmered in water, and the rest of the flavor comes from the juices the clams release as they open.
Pollock roe is loosened with egg and water, spread thinly over slabs of firm tofu, and steamed until it sets like a soft savory custard. Firm tofu holds its shape in the steamer, and pressing out only the excess water, leaving the surface moist, keeps the slabs from cracking. Green onion and red chili go on near the end so their color stays bright.
Hard clams, not anchovies, give this broth its base, and their clean sea flavor soaks into every strand of hand-cut noodle. Radish, zucchini, and onion add sweetness, while starch released by the noodles thickens the soup slightly without any added thickener. Shaking the loose flour off the noodles first keeps that thickening from turning the broth cloudy. The clams come out as soon as their shells open and return only at the end, keeping the meat from turning rubbery. This style has long been eaten along the coasts of South Chungcheong and Jeolla, and it tastes best when clams are in season.
Thin and wiry, kkosiraegi seaweed snaps cleanly between the teeth, a texture nothing like soft miyeok or kelp. Twenty seconds in boiling water is the limit, and an immediate plunge into cold water brings back the spring. Maesil-cheong, a sweet green plum syrup, gives the sour dressing a fruity note, and cucumber strips add a fresh, green aroma against the sea flavor. Served cold, it makes a refreshing summer side.
Bok choy usually ends up in stir-fries, but blanched and dressed with doenjang (Korean soybean paste) it becomes a namul with crisp stalks and an earthy, salty seasoning. Rub the dressing right into the hollow of each stalk with your fingers.
Every spoonful brings up strips of dried pollack and fine threads of egg along with the soft rice. The egg goes in last, once the rice and fish are cooked, drizzled thinly over the surface on the lowest heat and stirred only once. The savory flavor comes from the pollack itself, toasted in sesame oil with garlic, rather than from a stock.
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.
No anchovy or kelp stock here, just the liquor from the clams and the sweetness of napa cabbage, so the soup tastes clean and gentle. That also means any leftover grit has nowhere to hide, which is why the clams need a thorough soak beforehand.
The broth here comes from a generous 700 g of hard clams. Thick slabs of tofu go in only after the clams open and simmer for five minutes, long enough to soak up the clam juices that come out again when you bite. The shells bring their own salt; soup soy sauce is kept light.
Layered with well-aged kimchi and left to simmer a long time, the kimchi goes soft right down to the stems and the pork shoulder, streaked with fat, pulls apart with chopsticks.
Manila clam broth is naturally salty, so a little soup soy sauce is enough, and more would bury the clean, mineral sea flavor. For a stronger soup, the answer is more clams rather than more seasoning.
Slightly bitter chwinamul is blanched for 2 minutes and dressed with doenjang, soup soy sauce and sesame oil, then finished with perilla powder and scallion. The doenjang is worked in with spread fingers so it reaches between the leaves, and the greens rest five minutes before serving. In winter, when fresh chwinamul is not around, dried chwinamul soaked until soft can stand in.
This pot rice is eaten without a dipping sauce; the seasoning, just soup soy sauce and salt, is cooked into the rice. Lift the lid and the chamnamul, a fragrant Korean wild green, hits first, while the rice itself carries the flavor of the oyster and shiitake mushrooms sautéed underneath it.
Young bok choy leaves spend just over a minute on high heat, enough to char the tips lightly. The garlic goes in first over low heat to scent the oil, and the flame jumps up the moment the greens hit the pan.
A generous handful of minari, Korean water parsley, goes into this clam broth, and its fresh green smell reaches you before the spoon does. There is no separate stock: the clams and sliced garlic simply start in cold water.
Clams and seaweed go into a base broth of simmered radish, and with no meat in the pot, the clams carry the flavor. Their briny savoriness and the sea smell of the miyeok layer up in the same pot.
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.
Only the foam gets skimmed from this doenjang broth, and the brisket fat left in gives the soybean-paste soup a rich, beefy body. Onion, zucchini, and oyster mushrooms simmer before the meat goes in, and their sweetness softens the salty, fermented edge of the paste. The final adjustment comes from soup soy sauce rather than more paste, since doenjang brands differ in saltiness. The thick knife-cut noodles cook right in the pot rather than separately, thickening the broth with their starch and giving it a heavier, almost creamy feel. If the soup reduces until it turns too cloudy or salty, 100 ml of water and one more boil set it right.
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.
Chwinamul (aster greens, a Korean wild herb) is dressed with soup soy sauce, sesame oil and garlic before it goes on top of the rice, so the rice comes out seasoned and needs no sauce on the side. Lift the lid and the first thing you notice is the herb's slightly bitter scent.
Before the rehydrated chwinamul (aster scaber, a Korean mountain green) goes near the pan, it is dressed by hand with soup soy sauce, minced garlic and perilla oil, the way a namul side would be. Seasoned first and cooked second, every strand ends up evenly salted.
As soon as the clams open, soft tofu is spooned in with a large spoon and left alone. The curds soak up the clam broth in soft lumps; stirring hard breaks them down and clouds the soup white. Seasoned with soup soy sauce and no chili, it is not spicy at all.
A clear mushroom stew seasoned with kelp water and soup soy sauce, made without a drop of oil. To keep the broth from clouding, the foam is skimmed and, once the tofu is in, the pot is gently shaken instead of stirred. The mushrooms are rinsed quickly rather than soaked, since soaking washes out their scent.
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.