240 recipes. Page 5 of 10
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Salted and dried yellow corvina has dense, concentrated flesh that grills up chewy and deeply savory, with no extra salt needed. A 10-minute soak in rice-rinsing water takes the edge off the saltiness; leaving it longer washes out flavor too. It is salty enough that a small piece carries a whole bowl of rice.
Rolled around in a soy, sugar and mirin braise, the small quail eggs brown evenly and take on salt almost to the yolk. Added once the liquid has reduced by about half, the shishito peppers soften without bursting and keep their green, slightly grassy taste. A couple of toothpick holes in each pepper let the sauce inside and keep the skins from splitting. The braise should end with a little syrupy liquid still in the pot rather than a dry pan, giving each egg a shiny coat. Refrigerated, it keeps for three to four days as a ready side dish.
Cooked white soybeans blended with sesame seeds make a thick, nutty soy milk that is chilled and poured over somen. Skimming off the loose skins while rinsing the beans keeps bitterness out of the broth, and one pass through a sieve removes the gritty bits for a much silkier soup. Seasoning splits between salt alone and salt with a little sugar, added a pinch at a time either way. The soup needs at least 1 hour in the fridge and is blended well ahead, since ice cubes in the bowl would only thin it. The noodles get a rub in cold water and a short dip in ice water to firm them up.
The cockles of Beolgyo, on the wide tidal flats of South Jeolla, are plump and notably sweet, and they are fullest from November through March. Stirring in one direction while they boil helps every shell open at the same time, and they come out the moment they gape, before the meat shrinks and turns rubbery. A dressing of chili flakes, soy sauce and vinegar lays a sour, spicy edge over their briny sweetness, and a short rest lets it soak into the flesh.
The sautéed carrot that goes into bibimbap and gimbap, served as a side dish of its own. Cut into fine matchsticks and cooked only briefly, it stays bright orange with a little crunch left.
Rice seasoned with sesame oil, salt and toasted sesame is spread on plastic wrap, filled with tuna mayo and squeezed into a ball. A little finely chopped carrot and cucumber goes into the filling as well. These are eaten without reheating, which is why they go into lunchboxes and come along on picnics and school sports days.
Done right, the gochujang sauce does not pool in the pan but clings to every piece of fish cake with a shine. The square fish cakes are dipped briefly in boiling water first to rinse off their surface oil.
Pollock dried through a winter of freezing and thawing puffs up into hwangtae, softer and chewier than most dried fish. The strips get a thin coat of gochujang, soy sauce and syrup and only a minute or two per side over medium-low heat. Tear them apart while warm for makgeolli or soju, with mayonnaise for dipping if you like.
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.
Bulgogi seared fast over high heat meets raw minari, a fragrant Korean water dropwort, on udon tossed in a gochujang, soy, and sesame oil dressing. The beef is patted dry before marinating so it browns at the edges instead of stewing in its own liquid.
Hot bulgogi on cold greens gives this salad its contrast in temperature. The beef is marinated in soy sauce and pear juice, then seared in a very hot pan until the liquid cooks off and the surface turns glossy and caramelized. Cooking it in batches in a well-heated pan keeps water from pooling, so the meat browns instead of stewing. The fat left in the pan is not wasted; it becomes part of the dressing for the vegetables. Minari, a Korean water parsley with a grassy, celery-like aroma, is cut into 5 cm lengths so the stems stay crisp. Because it wilts fast once dressed, it is mixed in only at the last moment, with a generous shower of sesame seeds.
The kelp strips soak in cold water for 10 minutes to lose some salt, then get just 20 seconds in boiling water before going straight into a cold rinse. Tossed with seeded cucumber strips in a gochugaru, vinegar and soy dressing, they chill for at least 10 minutes before serving.
Mozzarella is lined up in a single row down the middle before rolling, so every slice shows a white stripe at its center. Around it sit kimchi, stir-fried until no liquid is left in the pan, and yellow pickled radish. Sliced cheese, which melts easily, can stand in for the mozzarella.
Bracken fern is first coated in perilla oil and then simmered briefly in soy-seasoned water, so it ends up tender and seasoned all the way through. That second stage is closer to braising than frying, and stopping while a little liquid remains keeps the ferns moist. Use bracken that has already been soaked and boiled; dried or raw fern should not go straight into this pan. Splitting the thick stems by hand evens out the seasoning.
The eel is seared skin side first to draw out its fat, then glazed over low heat with soy sauce and rice syrup spooned over it again and again. Some of the rendered fat is poured off before the sauce goes in. Laid over rice, it makes an eel bowl, with the sauce soaking down into the rice.
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.
Thin slices of boiled octopus sit on chilled buckwheat noodles dressed in chogochujang, gochujang loosened with vinegar and sugar into a sweet, sour, spicy sauce. Already cooked, the octopus mainly needs patting dry so the sauce clings instead of sliding off. Shredded cabbage and perilla leaves under the noodles add crunch and an herbal note, and only half the sauce is tossed in at first so the rest can season the bowl just before eating.
Unlike kimchi, mu-saengchae skips fermentation: the julienned radish is dressed and eaten the same day, with its crunch intact. Ten minutes under coarse salt pulls water from the strips so the chili-flake dressing clings instead of sliding off. Anchovy fish sauce lays a savory base under the radish's clean, mild flavor. Fresh from the bowl it snaps; after a night in the fridge it softens into a lightly pickled side with a different character. It is a standard partner for fatty dishes like samgyeopsal or braised short ribs.
Peeled deodeok root, pounded five or six times with a mallet, flattens and opens along its fibers, then tears by hand into rough, ribbon-like strips. A thick gochujang and vinegar dressing is rubbed in. For bitterness, the strips soak in cold water for 5 minutes; taste one, and soak longer only if it is still sharp.
Ground pork and chopped kimchi are fried in sesame oil until the oil turns red before the rice is added, which gives this porridge a meatier backbone than kimchi alone. Over a 30-minute simmer the chili's sharp edge fades and the fermented tang spreads evenly through the pot. Chop the kimchi smaller than bite size, since big leaves stay stringy in soft porridge. Cubes of tofu stirred in make a soft, filling addition.
One zucchini and a spoonful of salted shrimp (saeujeot) are about all this side dish needs. The shrimp brings a savory saltiness, so extra salt is rarely needed.
Dried filefish is browned on both sides in butter, then the heat drops and a thin glaze of soy sauce and syrup goes on. A pinch of chili powder and sesame seeds, a few snips into long strips, and it is ready to sit next to beer or soju.
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.
Myeongi jangajji (wild garlic leaves pickled in soy) is sliced into the bowl, and its pickling liquid loosens the gochujang into a sauce for chilled udon. The garlicky smell of the leaves comes through the heat, and shredded cucumber and tuna go on top.