877 recipes. Page 12 of 37
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Buckwheat jelly is plain on its own, and the cold soy and vinegar broth is mixed a little too salty and sour to make up for it once the jelly goes in. The broth is chilled until a few ice crystals remain, and crumbled laver and sesame oil go on just before serving.
The wingettes brown in a dry pan, skin side first, before the soy sauce mixture goes in to reduce. By the time the sauce is nearly gone, the meat pulls easily off the bone.
Dried celtuce stems, soaked until they bend but keep a firm bite, give this soy pickle its springy chew. The 300 g in the ingredient list is the soaked and drained weight. Soaking that much dry gungchae would swell far beyond what the brine can cover. Plain dried stems are the right buy, because fresh wosun stalks and pre-seasoned jars behave differently. Garlic and dried chilies steep in the hot soy, vinegar, and sugar brine, adding a mild warmth behind the sweet-salty taste. Rather than waiting for the hot jar to cool on the counter, split it into shallow containers and chill it right away, and the flavor starts to come through after a day.
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.
Blanched squid tossed in gochujang, chili flakes and vinegar works as both a drinking snack and a side dish with rice. Timing decides almost everything: past a minute to a minute and a half in boiling water the flesh contracts and turns rubbery, while undercooked squid stays translucent in the middle. An ice bath right after stops the carryover heat and locks in the springy bite.
Slice into it and fine ribbons of egg drift through amber agar. This Ishikawa holiday dish, seasoned with soy sauce and sugar, is nicknamed berobero for the way it slips around, and in Kanazawa and Noto it goes in the top tier of the New Year box next to herring roe and red-and-white fish cake. Its roots are traced to the egg agar of Edo-period cookbooks, from a time when eggs and sugar were scarce.
Bibimbap rarely goes without it and ancestral rite tables almost always include it, so bracken namul tends to be made in large holiday batches and eaten over several days. Records of eating it go back to the Three Kingdoms period, and the traditional cooking fat is perilla oil, not sesame. It tastes fine straight from the fridge.
Ssukgat (crown daisy greens) goes in just long enough to wilt, so its bitter, herbal edge comes through clearly against the rich gochujang pork. The pork shoulder is seared in a smoking-hot pan for some browned flavor.
Mung bean jelly (cheongpomuk) is nearly tasteless and breaks easily, and keeping the pieces whole takes most of the care in a stir-fry. A 30-second blanch firms the surface a little and washes off loose starch, which helps the soy sauce stick.
Store-bought jjondeugi, a chewy Korean snack sold in flat sheets, gets warmed in a pan and brushed with a thin sweet-and-spicy gochujang glaze. A plain, unseasoned product works better than one already coated in spicy seasoning, since the added glaze is easier to balance.
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.
Fat from pork small intestine melts into a soy-and-mirin chicken broth and turns it cloudy and rich in this hot pot from Hakata, Fukuoka. Cabbage torn into big pieces soaks up that broth and goes soft and sweet. Once the solids are gone, noodles or rice are added to the remaining broth.
Chicken thighs go straight into the soy braising liquid without browning, so the seasoning works between the fibers and the meat ends up glossy brown and seasoned through. Big chunks of potato soften at the edges and drink up the sauce, turning fluffy and starchy.
Fukushima's winter side dish steeps dried squid and carrot, cut into matching fine strips, in sake, soy sauce, and coarse sugar for 12 hours, until the squid softens and the carrot soaks up the soy while keeping its crunch. The boiled marinade has to cool to room temperature first; poured hot, it cooks the carrot limp.
Shrimp, squid and springy fresh wheat noodles share a dark, glossy dressing of chili oil, soy sauce and oyster sauce. Oyster sauce bridges the seafood's briny sweetness and the soy base, so the bowl leans toward savory depth rather than plain saltiness. Blending the chili oil evenly into the soy seasoning before tossing lets it coat the noodles and seafood in a thin, even film. Speed decides the texture: a short blanch and a quick high-heat toss keep the shrimp bouncy and the squid tender instead of rubbery. The noodles keep softening while they are mixed, so they come out of the pot 30 seconds short of the package time, and both noodles and seafood are drained hard so no water dilutes the sauce.
Leek-like daepa scallions are shredded into fine threads along the grain and soaked in cold water, which takes off the harsh bite and makes the strands curl lightly. The mellowed shreds are heaped beside grilled meat and picked up together with each slice.
In American Chinese cooking, egg mixed with vegetables is fried into small patties, and a brown gravy made separately is spooned over just before eating. This version has no meat, only mushrooms, bean sprouts, onion and scallion, and it is pan-fried instead of deep-fried, which leaves the edges brown and the middle soft.
Lean, straight-grained eye of round pulls apart into neat shreds after simmering, and those shreds stay chewy under the soy glaze. The boiled eggs wait until the braising liquid has dropped by half; added earlier, only their outsides turn salty. Seasoning keeps moving into the meat as it cools, so the heat comes off before the broth tastes too salty, and it spends a day in the fridge before serving.
Chopped fish cake crisps slightly at the edges in hot oil, and its salty, savory flavor spreads through every grain of rice. Because the fish cake is already seasoned, the soy sauce stays modest and any extra salt waits until after tasting.
Pasteurized, food-grade pig blood mixed with red miso cooks down into fine brown crumbs once the red liquid disappears. Those crumbs cling to strands of dried daikon, which are braised with seasoned pork belly, kamaboko and pork stock until most of the liquid is gone. Hihatsu, an Okinawan long pepper, and a little salt go in at the end.
Chopped kimchi goes into the pork filling, so its sourness and heat cut through the richness of the meat. Browning, steaming and crisping all happen in one pan, and the soy dip gets an extra splash of vinegar.
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.
Strips of pork stomach and intestine fill the bowl, yet the broth tastes light and clear, led by bonito and mild pork rather than any offal smell. That clarity comes from bringing the offal to a boil in fresh water and discarding the cloudy liquid again and again, then simmering it for about 2 hours until tender. Salt and a touch of soy sauce season the broth without darkening it, and hihatsu, Okinawan long pepper, finishes each bowl. Once reserved for New Year, celebrations and memorial gatherings, it is now an everyday soup as well.
Bone-in chicken, chunky potato, carrot and onion braise in soy sauce and sugar, with no glass noodles. The glossy sauce forms only in the last few minutes, after the potatoes are tender and the lid comes off. Uncover too early and the liquid runs out before the potatoes cook; keep it covered to the end and the sauce stays thin.