877 recipes. Page 33 of 37
As an Amazon Associate, we may earn from qualifying purchases.
With no gochujang, only soy sauce and starch syrup for the glaze, these anchovies are sweet-salty with no heat at all, which is why they turn up so often in children's lunchboxes. Turn the heat down as soon as the syrup bubbles once, or the glaze sets hard as it cools. Once cool, the anchovies cling together loosely, just right for picking up a small clump at a time.
The firm, slightly chewy flesh of half-dried pollock holds together through a long spicy braise and takes the seasoning all the way in. Gochugaru and gochujang together give the sauce body and a deep red color, and a spoonful of syrup added near the end gives it shine. Basting two or three times beats flipping, which only tears the fish. When the sauce turns thick and sticks to the pollock, it is ready to serve with the radish and a bowl of rice.
Grated jinenjo, a sticky wild Japanese yam, is worked in a mortar and loosened little by little with cooled miso dashi until it pours in a thick ribbon over hot rice. Mariko, in present-day Shizuoka City, was the twentieth of the fifty-three Tokaido post towns, and travelers stopped there for its tororo-jiru. Jinenjo is dug from mid-autumn into winter, and some communities eat the dish on January second.
Medium anchovies are bigger and thicker than the tiny ones used in the sweet version, and their heads and dark guts, which would make the dish bitter, come off one by one. Gochujang brings a fermented heat, chili flakes deepen the red, and the amount of flakes is the dial for spiciness.
Dried only partway in the sea wind on Korea's east coast, kodari pollock keeps some moisture in its flesh. Braised, it turns chewy without the dry, fibrous texture of fully dried hwangtae or bugeo. Radish under the fish keeps it off the hot pot bottom while a spicy-sweet sauce of gochujang, gochugaru, soy sauce and sugar cooks into it over about half an hour. It tastes even better after a night in the fridge, and leftover sauce makes a good bibimbap seasoning.
The truffle oil goes on only after the rice has finished resting. Heat drives off its aroma, so it never cooks in the pot. The rice itself is cooked in vegetable stock with shiitake, king oyster mushroom and onion that were first sauteed in butter, and the king oyster is cut thick enough to give a real bite.
Myeongyeopchae, pollock floss, is finer and softer than ordinary dried pollock strips, and once stir-fried it sits between the two familiar dried-fish sides: softer than seasoned dried pollock, milder than the shredded squid stir-fry. Its cottony clumps are teased apart along the grain by hand before cooking. A spoonful of mayonnaise in the sauce rounds off the gochujang.
Each bean ends up with a clear, glossy shell of soy and sugar syrup, salty first and then nutty as you bite through. Known in Korea as kongjorim or kongjaban, it works with black seoritae beans or yellow soybeans. The beans are soaked and boiled until soft before they ever meet the sauce. That keeps the braising short while the seasoning still reaches the center. Kept in a sealed container in the fridge, it is a classic make-ahead banchan for rice bowls and lunch boxes.
Grilled tteokgalbi, Korean short rib patties, are cut into bites and returned to the pan with onion in a soy and syrup sauce just long enough to turn glossy. The heat goes off while a little sauce still pools in the pan, and that goes over the rice too. A soft fried egg sits on top, its yolk broken and mixed through.
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.
Spicy pork and bean sprouts, usually a stir-fry, are steamed in this version, which uses no oil and lets the gochujang and gochugaru seasoning come through more directly. As the sprouts wilt under the lid they release water that turns into a light broth and carries the seasoning into the pork shoulder, while their remaining crunch eases the heat. Spreading the meat thin and low over the sprouts lets it cook at the same pace throughout. The dish is served as soon as it is done, before the sprouts give off too much water and turn limp. Rice or thin somyeon noodles stirred into the leftover broth finish the pot.
Strips of beef round marinate in soy sauce and cooking wine for 10 minutes, get stir-fried with burdock and carrot, and then the soaked rice is toasted in the same pot before the water goes in. The marinade carries over into the rice, so no sauce is served on the side. The burdock, soaked briefly in vinegar water first, still has its crunch after cooking.
It is called a stir-fry, but for the first few minutes the lid stays on. Bean sprouts laid on the bottom let out enough water to keep the gochujang from scorching, and a final blast of heat reduces that liquid into a thick sauce that coats the octopus.
Tender raw soybean leaves are stacked two or three at a time with a thin spread of soy and chili seasoning between them, steamed briefly, then peeled off one by one to wrap around a bite of rice. Steaming softens the coarse veins, and green plum syrup rounds off the saltiness of the soy so the grassy taste of the leaves still comes through behind the garlic and chili. It works warm or cooled as a side dish; the seasoning stays put between the layers.
The eel cooks skin side down first so some of its fat renders out, then gets brushed with a tare of soy sauce, mirin, sake and sugar until glossy. Because of the sugar in the tare, the second coat goes on over low heat, just for shine. Sansho pepper and chopped chives are scattered over the eel once it is on the rice.
The seasoning is just a teaspoon each of chili flakes, soy sauce and sugar, and the fish cake's own savory saltiness comes through first. A quick dip in boiling water to rinse off surface oil helps that small amount of seasoning soak in rather than slide off.
Each black soybean ends up lacquered in a thin, dark coat of soy sauce and syrup, with a chewy, nutty center. Soy sauce added before the beans are fully soft keeps them firm, so they simmer plain until no hard center remains. Once the brown sugar is stirred in, the heat stays low, because the sugar scorches on the bottom long before the beans have absorbed the seasoning. Corn syrup is added only when the liquid is nearly gone, which keeps the beans glossy and pliable instead of hard after they cool. Cooled completely before refrigerating, the beans hold their gloss, and kongjaban is a side dish to dip into over a couple of weeks.
Carrot gets a one-minute head start before the onion, zucchini, bell pepper and corn follow. The order goes by how long each vegetable takes to cook, not by how much water it holds. Everything is cut to about 5 mm so it spreads evenly through the rice, and the corn kernels give little bursts of sweetness.
Chicken cartilage gives a crunch first and then a chew. The longer it cooks, the more that crunch turns tough, so the cartilage is marinated for 10 minutes and then stir-fried hard and fast. Gochujang, chili flakes and hot Cheongyang chilies pile up into a fiery bar snack.
With only 80 ml of water in the pot, the sprouts cook in trapped steam under the chili-soy seasoning rather than being blanched first and dressed afterward. That small amount of liquid is why the sprouts are drained but not shaken bone dry: a little surface water tops up that steaming liquid.
Eaten at Jeongwol Daeboreum, the first full moon of the lunar year, yakbap sits closer to a sweet snack than a side of rice. Glutinous rice goes through the steamer twice: once plain, then again after it has been tossed with a warm syrup of soy sauce, honey, sesame oil, and cinnamon. That second steaming turns every grain glossy brown and chewy, with jujubes, chestnuts, and pine nuts tucked throughout.
A shallow crosshatch scored on the inside of the squid body opens up as it cooks, curling each piece and letting the gochujang sauce work into the cuts. Score too deep and the body tears apart; the knife should only graze the surface.
Steaming the peeled cloves for 8 minutes before they ever touch the sauce is what sets this apart from garlic simply braised in a pan. The cloves arrive in the soy and syrup already slightly translucent, so a short, gentle braise softens them through without burning the outside. Raw bite turns mellow and sweet, and each clove ends up glossy and intact, a small side to eat with rice or alongside grilled meat.
Baked in a muffin tin, yakbap comes out in pieces you can pick up one at a time. The soaked glutinous rice sits in soy sauce, dark brown sugar, honey and sesame oil for 20 minutes before going into the cups with diced chestnuts and slivered jujubes. Pine nuts on top toast in the 180°C oven along with them.