323 recipes. Page 6 of 14
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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.
A thick layer of radish, 350 g, lines the bottom of the pot and boils for ten minutes before the mackerel is laid on top. The radish soaks up the fish broth, and it goes over rice together with the little broth that is left.
Tiny freshwater corbicula clams, a specialty of Hadong along the Seomjin River in South Gyeongsang, give this noodle soup a broth that tastes strongly of shellfish yet stays light and clear. Restaurants along the river serve the clams in many forms and treat them as the defining local taste. Seasoning is kept to soup soy sauce and a little salt so the clams lead, while one cheongyang chili adds quiet background heat. Skipping the straining step leaves grit and an earthy taste that clouds that clean flavor. The somyeon is boiled separately and scrubbed hard in cold water, since leftover starch would cloud the strained broth all over again.
Maesaengi, a seaweed as fine as thread, spreads green through the whole pot, and the oysters bring a briny, salty depth. Maesaengi holds heat and barely steams, so it is much hotter than it looks. Blow on the first few spoonfuls.
Covered and cooked in a little soy-seasoned water, the radish strands turn translucent and bend easily around a chopstick. Made with winter radish, the dish comes out noticeably sweeter.
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.
Bracken fern tossed with soup soy sauce, garlic, and gochugaru before simmering carries its seasoning right into each stalk, while beef brisket and radish keep the broth fairly clear with a sharp chili edge. The fern turns tender only over a gentle, medium-low simmer.
The name comes from the custom of serving noodles to guests at weddings, birthdays and first-birthday parties. Anchovy and kelp make the broth, and seasoning it with soup soy sauce alone keeps it transparent rather than cloudy. The toppings sit in separate colors: zucchini, carrot, yellow and white egg strips, and crumbled seaweed. Kelp comes out of the pot first, since left too long it turns the broth bitter.
Minari (Korean water parsley) and clams are both at their best in spring, which is when this porridge gets made. Each spoonful starts with the clean savoriness of the clams, followed by the green scent of barely wilted minari.
The shepherd's purse comes off the heat the moment it starts to wilt, so its bitter spring scent is still there. Perilla oil is used twice: half to brown the tofu, the rest drizzled on with sesame salt after the heat is off.
Tuna from the can is tipped in along with all its oil, giving the broth a savory richness. The kimchi brine is held back at the start and used at the end, after tasting, to make up whatever salt and sourness the pot still needs.
Made with plump winter oysters, it smells of the sea from the first spoonful. With lots of tofu and a chili-red broth, it sits closer to a hearty, spicy stew for rice than to a clear oyster soup.
Jinju's version of cold noodles mixes anchovy-kelp stock with beef brisket stock, two parts to one, giving the broth both seafood savor and meaty weight. The signature topping is a heap of pan-fried beef jeon cut into strips, cooled first so it does not warm the broth, then piled over cucumber and Asian pear.
The seaweed and garlic are fried in sesame oil before the rice ever goes in. That step takes the fishy edge off the seaweed, and the nutty smell stays in the porridge through the long simmer. Soup soy sauce is used sparingly so it does not cover the seaweed.
The cucumber here is cooked, but only until it is warm and glossy, never soft in the middle. Soup soy sauce and a little chili flakes are the only seasonings, giving a faint red tint with no real heat. The tofu is browned on its own and folded back in at the end.
Chamge is a freshwater crab, and the shells and the joints of the legs need a good scrub with a brush if the broth is to taste clean. Halved and simmered in a radish broth with a little doenjang (Korean soybean paste), the crabs give it a deep crab flavor, sharpened with chili flakes and cheongyang peppers.
A handful of crown daisy goes into the broth once the oysters and tofu are cooked, and the heat goes off as soon as it starts to wilt. The seasoning is soup soy sauce, which keeps the broth from turning dark.
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.
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.
Because the pan runs on high heat, perilla oil is not used alone but mixed in equal parts with neutral oil. The king oyster mushrooms are cut lengthwise into long strips that keep their grain, and ground perilla seed goes in over low heat for the last minute to thicken the little bit of soy broth.
Chamnamul (Korean pimpinella greens) brings a sharp, grassy fragrance that cuts through mild tofu and anchovy-kelp stock. The tofu gets four minutes on its own to absorb the broth, while the greens stay in only long enough to wilt. Draining the cubes briefly in a sieve makes them easier to slide in without breaking.
Blue crab, clams, squid and shrimp share one pot that keeps simmering on a low flame at the table. The seafood gets fished out first as it's ready; the tofu and zucchini stay in the red broth a while longer.
Torn dough flakes and knife-cut noodles share one bowl, so soft, silky sujebi alternates with springy noodles in every spoonful. To judge doneness, bite into a flake: once the raw-flour taste is gone and the noodles still have bounce, serve right away.
There is no boiling of octopus here: it is bought already cooked. Diced as small as the carrot and zucchini, it waits until the rice has fully softened, since a long simmer from the start would make it tough.