877 recipes. Page 36 of 37
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It starts in perilla oil and finishes with ground perilla seed, so that toasty perilla aroma shows up twice. Taro stems are long and stringy by nature; even after soaking up the soy broth and going soft, you can still feel the fibers when you chew.
Thick slices of Korean radish line the pot and soak up the soy broth, while the Spanish mackerel rests on top, never touching the bottom, so its soft flesh keeps its shape. A short rest in rice wine before cooking tones down the fishy smell, and the seasoning stays light with just soy sauce and garlic. Cheongyang chili added at the end gives the mild broth a clean, spicy finish, and the radish is as much a part of the meal as the fish.
Leopard plant stalks only become something you can stir-fry after the outer skin is pulled off in long strips, the pieces soak in cold water for 20 to 30 minutes to lose their astringency, and then they are boiled. The frying is short by comparison, finished sweet and salty with fried tofu, soy sauce and sugar.
Spanish mackerel has white, tender flesh that flakes apart easily once cooked, so this braise never flips the fish. Instead, the pot gets a gentle shake and the sauce is spooned over the top. A gapless bed of radish, thicker slices in the middle, keeps the fish off the pot. The red sauce of soy, gochujang and gochugaru seasons both the mild flesh and the radish, which turns translucent as it cooks.
Thin burdock matchsticks cook down in soy sauce and grain syrup until the outside is a glossy brown while the inside keeps some bite. Near the end, when the bubbles get large and the liquid is almost gone, the sugars catch on the pan very quickly, and that is when the bottom needs frequent scraping.
Pork belly and big chunks of radish braise together in soy sauce, and by the end the radish has absorbed as much of the rich, salty liquid as the meat. The belly is blanched briefly and rinsed first; skip that and the surface impurities and porky smell end up in the sauce. The radish is cut large because small pieces fall apart over the long simmer. Covered at first and then uncovered, the pot moves from gentle braising to reducing, which leaves the pork and radish coated in a glossy soy glaze rather than sitting in thin broth. It holds up well when made ahead, because cooling and rewarming drive the seasoning in further.
Pork shoulder goes red with gochujang and chili flakes, and summer yeolmu (young radish greens) keeps its slight bitterness against that heat. For a milder plate, leave the other seasonings alone and cut the chili flakes to half a tablespoon.
Beef shank carries a lot of connective tissue that stays tough after a quick cook but lets the meat pull apart along the grain after a long, low simmer. As the braise cools, gelatin from the shank sets the sauce, and warming it again melts it back into a glossy, slightly thick glaze.
Lotus root is dense and soybean sprouts are delicate, and cooked for the same length of time one of them gives out. The lotus root gets a head start, and the sprouts go in only once the soy glaze is bubbling, for a short final toss.
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.
Wet lotus root and shrimp give off water instead of frying, and that water thins the soy glaze. Lotus slices are done when the edges are translucent and the middle still crunches; cooking longer to soften them only overcooks the shrimp.
Oily mackerel and earthy dried radish greens cook down together, the fish fat seeping into the greens while the greens soften the strong flavor of the fish. Radish on the bottom of the pot grows sweeter the longer it braises and takes the edge off both the chili heat and any fishiness. The sauce is left slightly loose, enough to spoon over a bowl of rice.
The 2.5 tablespoons of soy sauce are split: one seasons the beef up front, and the rest goes in with syrup at the end to glaze the lotus root as well. Only a thin cut of beef will cook in about the same time as the lotus.
Twelve whole garlic cloves braise alongside the beef until their raw bite disappears and they turn soft and mellow. Shiitake mushrooms take on the soy glaze and a glossy sheen, and they add an earthy aroma to the beef stock that plain jangjorim, Korean soy-braised beef, does not have. An overnight rest in the fridge lets the seasoning soak all the way in, and the flavor is noticeably darker the next day.
The eggplant is fried and set aside first, then returned to the sauce at the end, which keeps the pieces whole. The sauce starts from the spicy oil released as ground pork and doubanjiang (chili bean paste) fry together, and the sourness is adjusted at the very end with a little vinegar at a time.
In this braise the radish matters as much as the beef: thick rounds go into a soy broth that has already simmered with brisket and drink up its meaty flavor as they turn translucent at the edges. Trimming the sharp corners of each piece keeps them whole through the long, low braise. Serve the radish with a spoonful of the salty-sweet liquid over rice.
Cumin and chili flakes are held back until the final minute so their aroma stays sharp. Before that, thin slices of lamb are spread in one layer in a very hot wok and left untouched for the first 40 seconds to brown.
Chicken wings have plenty of skin, and in the final reduction the soy and sugar liquid clings to it in a thin, shiny lacquer. The wings first cook covered so the meat turns tender in the broth, and only then does the lid come off to boil the sauce down around them. Shallow cuts in the thick parts let the seasoning reach past the surface, and a teaspoon of sesame oil stirred in off the heat adds a toasted aroma.
Firm tofu is soaked briefly in salted water, then pan-fried until golden with firm edges that let the slices keep their corners through the spicy braise. Onion and green onion cook on top of the tofu and add sweetness to a sauce of soy sauce, gochugaru and a little sugar. The heat goes off while some sauce still pools at the bottom of the pan, enough to spoon over the tofu and a bowl of rice.
Simmered slowly in soy sauce, whole peeled garlic loses almost all of its raw bite and turns soft and fluffy inside, while corn syrup gives the outside a shiny glaze. High heat for too long only toughens the surface. After the first boil, the pot drops to medium-low and stays uncovered. Once tender, the cloves crush easily, which is why they are turned only once or twice.
Fat and juices from boneless chicken thighs melt into the soy braising liquid, and the burdock root that soaks it up turns sweeter and saltier the longer you chew. A short soak in vinegared water takes the astringency out of the burdock, leaving a nutty root flavor instead of an earthy one. Thin diagonal slices of burdock cook through far faster than thick pieces. Some of the fatty chicken skin is trimmed away and the meat sits briefly in cooking wine and ginger juice, which keeps the sauce clean and free of any gamey smell. Tender thigh meat and chewy, slightly crisp burdock end up glazed together as an easy side for rice.
With no meat at all, this braise relies on texture: thin slices of burdock stay crisp and chewy while konjac, a firm jelly made from konjac yam, stays bouncy. The konjac is blanched and then dry-toasted in an unoiled pan for 1 minute, which takes away its distinctive smell. Burdock absorbs the seasoning faster the thinner it is sliced, and after its vinegar-water soak it is drained well so the braising liquid is not watered down. Holding back the syrup until the soy liquid has reduced by about half lets it add gloss at the end instead of scorching. Sesame oil and seeds stirred in off the heat finish it.
Burdock root cut into thin, even matchsticks is cooked in soy sauce and sugar, then glazed with syrup until shiny, giving a chewy, slightly crunchy bite with a salty-sweet coating. Even cutting matters more than it looks: thinner strands go soft while thicker ones stay stiff. Cooked through, the strips bend rather than snap. It is a staple Korean banchan, close in spirit to Japanese kinpira gobo but sweeter and glossier.
Thin strips of beef and burdock start together in plain water rather than a hot oiled pan. Skimming the foam then keeps the liquid clear, and the beef stays tender. Soy sauce, sugar, cooking wine and garlic go in only after the meat changes color, and the beef's savoriness rounds out the earthy burdock. Leaving a shallow layer of sauce in the pot keeps the strips moist, and once cooled and settled, it packs well for lunch.