262 recipes. Page 3 of 11
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Grated raw potato is squeezed, and the liquid sits for at least 10 minutes until white starch settles at the bottom; that sediment goes back into the pulp to make the batter. Spread as thin as possible, the edges shatter like glass while the middle stays chewy. The dipping sauce is soy sauce with vinegar and minced cheongyang chili.
Steaming a whole blue crab keeps more of its sweet juices inside the shell than boiling does, and the meat comes out briny and moist. In spring and autumn the crabs are full of roe and tomalley, which adds plenty to eat beyond the white meat. A simple dip of soy sauce sharpened with vinegar brings the sweetness forward. Eating it is hands-on work, cracking each leg joint and pulling the meat out piece by piece.
Chewy shiitake caps and meaty strips of king oyster mushroom hold their chew through days in a garlicky soy, vinegar and sugar brine with dried chili. Cutting both to a similar thickness lets them season at the same pace. One minute of blanching is enough. Any longer and the mushrooms turn soft and watery. Squeezing them firmly afterward matters more than the blanch itself, since leftover water dilutes the brine.
Gochujang heat, the sweetness of maesil plum syrup, and a sharp hit of vinegar land together in each mouthful of these cold somyeon noodles. A thorough cold-water rinse strips off surface starch, so the thin wheat noodles turn bouncy and the sauce coats them evenly instead of clumping. Torn lettuce and cucumber strips bring crunch, and the little moisture they release loosens the thick sauce just enough.
Hot mustard whisked into a soy-vinegar dressing gives this salad a sinus-clearing kick, and julienned Korean pear cools it down with crisp sweetness. With seared beef round set on garlic chives and red cabbage, the plate eats lighter than most beef dishes. Round is a lean cut, seared hard over high heat so the outside darkens while the center stays pink. After a 5-minute rest, the beef is cut against the grain about 1 cm thick; sliced and left to cool, it toughens. The chives wilt the longer they sit in dressing, which makes the resting time the moment to prep the vegetables and dressing, with everything tossed just before serving.
In this Benedict, smoked salmon takes the place of ham and brings its salty, smoky flavor between the toasted muffin, a poached egg, and hollandaise. The sauce is whisked from yolks and lemon juice over water that only steams, with warm melted butter added in a thin stream, and hotter water would set the yolks and break the sauce. The eggs poach in barely trembling water with a splash of vinegar, and 3 minutes 30 seconds leaves the whites set and the centers soft. Once cut, the yolk runs over the salmon and muffin as a second sauce. Since the eggs, sauce, and muffins all need to land at the same moment, melting the butter first and keeping it warm sets up the rest.
Thin slices of pork loin get a thick potato-starch coat and two rounds of frying, which puff the crust into a hard, glassy shell that cracks when you bite. The sauce is just vinegar, sugar, and soy, so it is paler and sharper than the ketchup-red versions common in Korean Chinese restaurants. That tangier style traces back to late-Qing Harbin, where the dish was created to suit Russian guests.
Cheonggak, a branching green seaweed, gets just ten seconds in boiling water: enough to turn it a deep green while keeping its crunchy, almost cartilage-like bite. It's dressed with plenty of vinegar and eaten right away.
To match the sourness of yeolmu kimchi (young radish greens), the gochujang sauce is first loosened with vinegar and maesil, a green plum syrup. Barley rice is topped in sections with the kimchi, cucumber and lettuce plus halved boiled eggs, and the sauce goes in only right before eating, half of it first.
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.
Soy sauce, minced garlic, and syrup with a little vinegar make a glaze that is salty-sweet with no heat. Boiled down too long, the soy turns harshly salty, so the chicken goes in while the sauce is still thin and gets just a quick glossy coat over high heat.
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.
Eggplant is steamed for just five minutes, torn along the grain and tossed with soup soy sauce and garlic so it takes on seasoning of its own. It then goes into cold water seasoned with vinegar and sugar and is topped with cheongyang chili and sesame seeds, a summer side dish. If ice is going in, the seasoning should be a little stronger, since it thins as the ice melts.
Enoki pulled apart strand by strand and only filmed with batter fry into a loose, lacy round, crisp as tempura at the rim and chewy in the middle. A dip of soy sauce with vinegar and a pinch of chili flakes comes with it.
Napa cabbage and paper-thin beef brisket (usamgyeop) are stacked in layers, cut to the height of the pot and stood on end, and when the lid comes off the cross-sections line up in rows. The thick white part of the cabbage, rather than the leafy tops, is what lets the stacks hold that shape. Nothing seasons the broth itself, which is just cabbage water and beef juices, and each piece is dipped in a soy, vinegar and garlic sauce at the table. That puts the saltiness in each person's hands rather than in the pot. Packing the bundles tightly, with cabbage scraps in any gaps, stops them toppling as the pot steams.
Tender amaranth leaves soak up a soy and vinegar brine quickly. The vinegar takes away their raw grassy taste, and sliced cheongyang chili and garlic leave a sharp finish. Washed greens need to air-dry completely on a rack, because leftover water clouds the brine.
The gochujang sauce grips tough, springy naengmyeon noodles rather than sliding off, and every strand carries the spicy-sour coating. Mixing the sauce 10 minutes ahead gives the sugar time to dissolve and the flavors time to even out. The noodles cook in well under a minute over high heat, and lifting them out the moment the strands separate keeps them from going soft. Rubbing them under cold water to strip the starch, then squeezing them hard, stops leftover water from thinning the sauce. Cucumber and Korean pear, crisped in ice water, cool the heat with crunch and light fruitiness, and half a boiled egg softens the chili's edge.
Cheongpomuk, a soft, translucent jelly made from mung bean starch, is cut into batons and tossed in chojang, Korean sweet-and-sour chili sauce. Crisp apple, cucumber, and red cabbage play against the jelly's smooth, bouncy texture, and the apple's sweetness rounds off the chili heat.
Kkanpunggi does not sit in a pool of sauce. Chicken thigh, fried twice, is tossed for a moment over high heat with garlic, dried chilies, soy sauce, vinegar and sugar, and comes out with just a thin, sticky coat on a crisp crust.
White, slippery mung bean jelly is mixed with strips of cucumber and carrot in a tangy soy and vinegar dressing. The thin jelly breaks if stirred, so it is lifted from the bottom with chopsticks about six times and no more.
Small enough to eat by hand in one bite, these pouches turn up in lunchboxes, at picnics and as snacks. Inside the sweet-savory braised fried tofu, the vinegared rice is mixed with finely chopped carrot, cucumber and sesame seeds, so there is a little crunch under the soft tofu. Imitation crab or burdock root can go into the filling as well.
Chicken in a thin starch coat gets its gloss from a soy, vinegar and sugar sauce. The pineapple goes in just before the sauce and needs only a minute, until its edges look faintly translucent. Canned pineapple works too, drained lightly first.
Ice-cold shredded cabbage, lettuce, and cucumber sit under hot, crisp frozen dumplings, mixing two temperatures and two kinds of crunch in every forkful. The dressing of gochujang, vinegar, sugar, and sesame oil tastes sweet, sour, and spicy all at once. The dumplings are store-bought frozen ones, and they go on just before eating so they stay crisp.
The heat in this soup comes from white pepper rather than chili, building slowly at the back of the throat after each spoonful. Vinegar layers sourness on top, and the broth, thickened with starch only until it turns glossy and translucent, holds wood ear mushrooms, tofu and thin ribbons of egg.