877 recipes. Page 30 of 37
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Once the salmon is flipped, butter melts in the pan, and with the pan tilted it is spooned over the fillets again and again. The gochujang, soy and honey glaze gets a second thin coat in the final minute for shine.
Gizzard shad, a small fish at its fattiest in autumn, stays moist even when braised in a soy and gochugaru sauce. Three deep scores along the back let the sauce reach the thick part of the fish without a long cook. Thick slices of radish packed across the bottom of the pot keep the fish from scorching and turn sweet as they soak up the sauce; the thicker the slices, the sweeter they get. Basting with a spoon takes the place of flipping, which would break the delicate flesh apart. The reduced sauce left in the pot is spooned over steamed rice.
Beef shank, first fried with doubanjiang (fermented chili bean paste), simmers in a soy broth until it splits under a chopstick, then goes over wheat noodles in big chunks. The broth is dark with soy and only gently hot, and a few blanched bok choy leaves add some green.
The negi go into the dry pot first, no oil, and brown at the edges before the warishita is poured in, a premixed blend of soy sauce, mirin, sugar, and sake. Cabbage, shiitake, grilled tofu, and shirataki each get their own patch of the pot, and the thin beef goes in a few slices at a time, lifted out as soon as it is cooked.
Five minutes in soy and sesame oil is all the salmon gets: long enough to turn the surface glossy, short enough that the inside still eats like sashimi. The fish comes out of the marinade as soon as a light soy tint appears, before the soy takes over its flavor.
Kongbul, short for kongnamul bulgogi, piles soybean sprouts onto spicy gochujang pork so every bite of meat comes with a crunch. The sprouts only get about a minute over high heat, so the pork sauce has to be reduced to a thick glaze before they go in, or the water they release leaves everything soupy. It is served spooned over rice.
The lotus root is cut 0.7 cm thick and browned in a pan first; the soy and rice-syrup glaze only goes on for the last minute or two. It is far crunchier than Korean braised lotus root, which simmers in soy for a long time. Once cool, the glaze that has run into the holes sets and stops being sticky.
As the soy-based liquid reduces, glass noodles (dangmyeon) soak it up and turn chewy, while big chunks of potato go fluffy and take on the salty-sweet sauce. The dish traces back to the chicken shops of the old market in Andong, North Gyeongsang Province. Timing the noodles is the key move: added too early they drink all the liquid and go limp, so they only join once the potatoes are about half done. With no chili in the pot, the flavor is pure soy, sugar and garlic, and the glossy sauce is made for spooning over rice.
A pork bone broth thickened with sesame paste and miso turns creamy and heavy, and pork mince fried with doubanjiang, a Sichuan chili bean paste, sits on top with a slick of chili oil. In this Japanese ramen take on Sichuan dan dan noodles, there is plenty of soup and sesame leads the flavor. The sesame paste and miso get a brief stir over low heat before any stock is added, which draws out their nutty aroma, but they come off before they brown. The stock is then whisked in a little at a time so no lumps remain. The pork fries until its moisture cooks off and the edges brown, and the heat drops to medium if the doubanjiang starts to scorch. Shake the boiled noodles well, since extra water dilutes the thick broth fast.
Korean Chinese restaurants serve their own take on sweet and sour pork, called tangsuyuk: pork loin in an egg and cornstarch batter, fried twice, under a hot ketchup and vinegar sauce with bell pepper and onion. The second fry sets the coating hard enough to stay crisp for a while even after the sauce goes on.
Despite the Korean name, which points to gim (roasted laver), this bowl is built on rehydrated wakame. A short toss in sesame oil with garlic keeps the seaweed slippery and chewy while turning its sea smell nutty. With only five ingredients, water left in the wakame does the most damage: it spatters in the hot oil and thins the soy sauce until the whole bowl tastes flat.
Soybean sprouts pick up the beefy richness of thin-sliced brisket (chadolbaegi), because the fat the brisket renders is the only oil used for the chili sauce. Brisket this thin browns in a minute or two and the sprouts should stay crunchy, which makes the whole cook brief and fast. Blot off only the excess fat; wiping the pan dry leaves nothing to fry the paste in.
Baby octopus, at its best in spring, spends only a short time in a gochujang and gochugaru marinade before steaming on a bed of cabbage and onion. Ten minutes is enough to coat the pieces before they start giving up water. As the vegetables soften, their juices mix with the marinade into a small pool of spicy sauce at the bottom. The cabbage keeps the octopus off the steamer and takes the edge off the heat. The steamer should be at a full boil before the octopus is added, and the lid stays shut so the steam stays strong. The window between springy and rubbery is narrow, and the moment the pieces curl up plump is the moment to stop.
Sesame paste whisked into chicken stock turns the broth thick, tan, and nutty, and a spoonful of crumbly pork plus a drizzle of chili oil sit on top as separate layers of salt and heat. Doubanjiang, a fermented chili bean paste, gives that pork its savory backbone, and the pork is fried until its moisture is gone and the edges brown and crisp. Stirring the bowl gradually blends the chili oil into the sesame broth, changing the taste of the soup from the first sip to the last. Peanut butter can stand in for half the sesame paste, and the amount of doubanjiang sets the heat. The noodles come out a little before the package time so they stay firm in the hot soup. Blanched bok choy adds a crisp, green bite against all that richness.
Two whole sea bream, opened along the back and packed with sweet-savory okara (tofu pulp) cooked with vegetables and ginkgo nuts, are steamed whole for this celebratory dish from the Kaga area of Ishikawa. The fish are set belly to belly on the platter, an arrangement that made it a regular at weddings. Each serving pairs mild bream with stuffing that has soaked up the fish juices.
Siraegi, dried radish greens boiled until tender, steam on top of the rice, and nothing seasons the pot. Each person stirs in a doenjang and soy paste with chili flakes and green onion, a spoonful at a time, and decides how salty the bowl gets.
At Sri Lankan street stalls, kottu is made by chopping roti on a griddle with two metal blades, clattering away; at home a knife and a single pan do the job. The bread soaks up curry powder and soy sauce among cabbage, carrot and egg, and only its edges turn a little crisp.
Yellow croaker has fine, tender flesh that separates into neat flakes under chopsticks, and the soy sauce seasoning seeps along deep scores in its sides. The fish stays put in the steamer from start to finish, and the few spoonfuls of liquid left underneath are poured back over it to eat with rice.
It tastes like Chinese home-style tomato and scrambled egg turned into a noodle soup, with sweet-sour tomato broth, soft egg curds and fresh noodles. The eggs are folded briefly and lifted out while still slightly wet, then return for only a minute at the end; fully cooked at the start, they would toughen in the final simmer. Pressing the tomatoes as they cook draws out the red juice that lets the pieces and the stock blend instead of sitting apart, and cooking them down well deepens the savory flavor. A little soy sauce and sugar only round off the tomato's acidity. Fresh noodles cook fast in the hot broth and come off the heat while the centers are still slightly firm.
Sugar dissolved in bonito dashi makes this Tokyo-style rolled omelet noticeably sweeter than Kansai dashimaki. The roll is given a light brown outside and, still hot, wrapped in a bamboo mat to set its square shape.
Chicken cooked down with soy sauce, mirin and ginger juice, and sweetened egg scrambled into tiny yellow grains, each take half of the bowl. Left unmixed, they let you change the balance with every spoonful. Both need to end up as fine crumbles, and the chopsticks keep moving in the pan the whole time.
Biting into a Sichuan peppercorn leaves the tongue tingling, and in kung pao chicken that numbness matters as much as the heat. Dried chilies and peppercorns are fried in the oil first so the chicken is coated in that flavored oil, and the roasted peanuts go in at the very end to stay crunchy.
Soft, mild yellow croaker with little fishiness needs nothing more than a simple sauce of soy, gochugaru and garlic. Some croaker is sold already salted and needs less soy sauce. Taste before adding the full amount. Sliced radish under the fish keeps it from sticking and turns sweet and tender in the liquid. Korean families often put this on holiday tables, and the saucy braising liquid is meant to be spooned over rice.
Pork back bones and trotters boil hard for hours until their collagen and fat emulsify into a milky broth thick enough to feel sticky on the lips. Soaking and blanching the bones beforehand cuts down the porky smell. That rolling boil is the opposite of the gentle simmer used for clear stocks, and it is what separates tonkotsu from an ordinary pork soup. When the pot runs low, it is topped up with hot water, never with a lower flame. Thin, firm noodles, pork belly chashu braised in soy sauce and mirin, a soft-boiled egg, and sliced green onion top the bowl. The chashu slices thin most easily when made a day ahead and chilled, and the eggs marinate in its braising liquid.