54 recipes. Page 2 of 3
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Strips of chicken breast take the place of beef, giving a leaner japchae where the noodles, spinach, carrot, shiitake and onion come through more clearly. Tossing the drained noodles with a little soy sauce and sesame oil right away and spreading them out keeps them from gluing together while everything else cooks.
With no meat in the layers, water hiding in the mushrooms and spinach makes the difference between clean slices and a soggy lasagna. The mushrooms cook until the pan looks dry, while the spinach is only wilted so it keeps some fresh aroma. Foil stays on for the first 25 minutes to heat the layers evenly, then comes off so the mozzarella can brown.
Briefly blanched seri and spinach soak for 8 to 12 hours in chilled dashi seasoned with mirin and light soy sauce, long enough for the broth to seep all the way into the greens. Instead of being tossed in a dressing, the vegetables are served moistened with that clear liquid, letting their own fragrance come through. The two greens are blanched separately so the tender spinach does not overcook while the seri stems keep a distinct bite. Twisting them dry would crush the stems and leave the dashi soaking in unevenly, so they are lined up and pressed between the palms instead. Seri, a Japanese water dropwort, gets swapped for Korean minari when Kuroda seri is hard to find.
With eight eggs the frittata is thick: the edges set on the stovetop, and the oven finishes the center without scorching the base. Shake excess water off the spinach, or it thins the eggs, and beat them gently: lots of air bubbles leave a coarse texture when sliced. The center is ready when a light press springs back. Leftover wedges work cold as a sandwich filling.
The name suggests a cold soup, but Yonezawa's hiyashiru is really ohitashi: blanched vegetables steeped in plenty of chilled soy-seasoned stock and eaten with their liquid. The stock comes from the water used to soak dried scallop, while porous freeze-dried konnyaku and dried shiitake soak it up. Spinach, cabbage, soybean sprouts, and carrot share the bowl with yukina, a local winter green given only a quick dip in boiling water to keep its snap. An hour to a night in the fridge lets everything take on the broth.
All the usual gimbap fillings land on a bowl of rice instead of being rolled in seaweed: thin egg strips, sauteed carrot, blanched spinach and torn imitation crab. There is no laver, pickled radish or fish cake here, so the seasoning lives in the rice itself, tossed with sesame oil and salt. Each topping keeps its own section until the bowl is mixed at the table.
Seasoned only with soup soy sauce, the broth stays clear and the grassy note of spinach comes through, a calm bowl to set next to oily or spicy dishes. Firm tofu cut into generous cubes holds together better as it simmers.
Shrimp and squid take over from meat, bringing two textures to the glass noodles: a springy snap from the shrimp and a firmer chew from the squid. Scoring the squid makes it curl in the heat and leaves a pattern on the surface. Patted dry before they meet a very hot pan, the shrimp and squid sear instead of boiling in their own liquid. The moment the shrimp turn pink and the squid curls, they come out of the pan, rejoining the noodles only at the end. Glass noodles soaked thoroughly before boiling take up the seasoning evenly and turn glossy. Korean holiday tables sometimes swap this in for beef japchae.
Under foil, the tomato sauce steams the pasta through, so every tube needs to be covered or its exposed edges dry out. The filling should be thick enough to hold its shape on a spoon and packed loosely enough that the tubes do not tear.
Thin wedges of pumpkin come out of the oven browned at the tips and soft through the middle. Cut thicker than about 7 to 8 mm, they dry out on the surface before the center cooks through. Crumbled feta lands salty and tangy on that chestnut-like sweetness, and toasted pumpkin seeds add crunch. Laid on the spinach while still warm, the pumpkin wilts the leaves just slightly and the parts come together instead of sitting separately on the plate. The leaves need to be shaken or blotted very dry, since wet spinach thins the lemon and honey dressing and flattens the taste.
Cream cheese and sour cream form the base of this warm dip, with spinach, artichoke, Parmesan, and mozzarella folded in before it bakes until bubbling. Each cheese has a role: cream cheese for body, sour cream for a light tang, Parmesan for salt, mozzarella for stretch. One dish in the middle of the table feeds a group, scooped up with baguette slices or tortilla chips while it is still hot.
Half sheets of seaweed are spread with a very thin layer of rice and rolled tightly around just three fillings: yellow pickled radish, spinach, and carrot. The result is a slim roll that cuts into small coins, each one a single bite. Carrot is stir-fried only until it wilts so it keeps some crunch and sweetness, and the spinach is blanched briefly, squeezed dry, and dressed with sesame oil.
The papaya has to be green and firm, not the ripe fruit, and it is added only after the chicken has simmered, so it softens to fork-tender while keeping its shape. Plenty of julienned ginger, fried first with garlic and onion, gives tinola's clear broth a clean, sharp heat.
The noodles, beef, spinach, carrot and onion are each cooked on their own and only combined at the end. There is a single batch of soy sauce, sugar and sesame oil: a little goes on the beef as a marinade, and whatever is left seasons the noodles.
With only two thin sheets of fresh pasta around the ricotta and spinach, whether a raviolo survives the pot comes down to the seal. Pressing the top sheet from around the filling outward pushes trapped air to the edges, and the pasta edges need to stay moist while you work or they will not stick. The thin dough needs only three to four minutes in boiling water; any longer and it turns mushy.
Each sheet of gim (roasted seaweed) is cut into four, and the rolls come out about the size of a finger, filled with little more than carrot, spinach and a strip of egg. The seasoning comes from a dip of mustard, soy sauce, vinegar and sugar, and the sharp kick of the mustard keeps hands reaching for one more.
Cooked and served in a small earthenware pot, nabeyaki udon stays piping hot from the first bite to the last. Chicken thigh simmered right in the dashi, soy, and mirin broth adds fat and body that breast meat would not. The egg poaches in the center under the lid until the white sets and the yolk stays soft, and the shrimp tempura is added after the heat is off so it reaches the table still crisp.
Ssamjang, the thick soybean-and-chili paste served with Korean lettuce wraps, gets whisked into milk instead of fried, which keeps its savory fermented flavor while softening its pasty edge. Browned chicken thigh, onion, and garlic give the sauce some sweetness underneath. Each ear-shaped orecchiette cups a little sauce, and spinach goes in only during the final minute or two so it stays green. Parmesan melts in once the burner is off.
Brown rice is topped with pan-seared salmon, blanched spinach, shredded carrot and avocado, then dressed with soy sauce, lemon juice and sesame oil. Against the chewy rice, the salmon is cooked only until its center is still faintly translucent and stays moist.
Blanched spinach, soybean sprouts, and julienned carrot are tossed with thin somyeon in a soy, vinegar, and plum syrup dressing that is salty, tart, and faintly sweet, with no chili paste involved. The spinach and sprouts are blanched separately and squeezed hard, because leftover water thins the sauce and makes the noodles swell and clump as they sit. Dry-sauteing the carrot without oil for a minute brings out a sweetness raw carrot lacks. Dressing the noodles before adding the vegetables seasons every strand instead of letting the sauce cling only to the greens. The garlic is stirred until evenly dispersed so no single bite turns sharp, and half a tablespoon of gochugaru makes a spicy version.
Inside each jumbo shell, the egg in the ricotta filling sets in the oven and holds the cheese and spinach together as one piece. A generous layer of tomato sauce on the bottom of the dish keeps the shells from drying underneath, and it also props up any shell that tore while boiling. Melted mozzarella and bubbling sauce do not prove the center is hot, so the thickest filling should read at least 74°C on a food thermometer before the dish comes out. A 3-minute stand afterward firms the filling before serving with sauce scooped from the bottom of the dish.
Doenjang (Korean soybean paste) is dissolved into anchovy stock, and the porridge tastes close to a bowl of doenjang soup. The rice is toasted in sesame oil before the stock goes in, and the spinach, blanched and chopped ahead, is stirred in just before the heat goes off and served while it is still bright green.
Squid takes the place of beef in this version of japchae, the Korean glass noodle stir-fry, tossed with spinach, carrot, and onion in a soy and sugar sauce. Scoring the inside of the squid in a crosshatch lets the seasoning reach more surface and keeps the cooked pieces tender. The squid gets only about a minute over high heat, since any longer turns it rubbery and leaks water that leaves the noodles soggy. The spinach is blanched separately and squeezed hard for the same reason. Boiled for no more than 6 minutes, the glass noodles stay springy and hold together in the pan.
Pressed firm tofu mixed into the ricotta makes a lighter filling than ricotta alone, and a pinch of nutmeg ties the spinach and cheese together. When these ravioli burst, the cause is almost always a wet filling: the tofu needs squeezing in cloth until it barely drips, and the blanched spinach needs wringing too. The water stays at a moderate bubble, since a rolling boil can also split the seams. Straight from the pot, the pieces go into sage brown butter before their surfaces dry.