262 recipes. Page 7 of 11
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Two separately cooked toppings make this bowl of dressed noodles: pan-seared tofu and stir-fried ripe kimchi. Pressing the tofu dry before it meets a hot pan gives it a golden crust and a soft center, a mild counterweight to the gochujang dressing. Brief frying takes the sharp sourness off well-fermented kimchi and pushes its savory side forward. The noodles end up spicy, sweet and tangy without turning harsh.
Blanched wakegi scallions are folded at the white base to form a core, then the green leaves are wound tightly around it into bite-size coils. The thick white base goes into the pot ahead of the faster-cooking thin leaves, and that head start keeps the leaves from going limp. Twisting tears the blanched stalks; they are pressed dry from base to tip instead, because leftover water makes the leaves slip, the coils unwind and the dip turn thin. No toothpick holds them; a little sticky sap from the pinched leaf tip glues the end in place. They are served lined up beside a sweet-tart dip of white miso, sugar, vinegar and mirin.
Braised dried pollock comes out soft and moist; this version tosses the dry shreds straight into a gochujang, vinegar, and oligosaccharide syrup dressing and keeps them chewy. With no stove involved, it takes about 15 minutes when a side dish is needed in a hurry.
Bellflower root (doraji) carries a pronounced bitterness, tamed by rubbing the roots hard with salt until sticky foam appears and then rinsing several times. The roots are torn by hand into thin strips; thinner strips take the brine faster, but crumbled pieces lose their chew. Ginger steeps in the hot soy brine for 10 minutes and is lifted out, leaving only its scent. The pickle is ready after 2 days of cold storage and is not meant to sit at room temperature.
Shrimp, squid and springy fresh wheat noodles share a dark, glossy dressing of chili oil, soy sauce and oyster sauce. Oyster sauce bridges the seafood's briny sweetness and the soy base, so the bowl leans toward savory depth rather than plain saltiness. Blending the chili oil evenly into the soy seasoning before tossing lets it coat the noodles and seafood in a thin, even film. Speed decides the texture: a short blanch and a quick high-heat toss keep the shrimp bouncy and the squid tender instead of rubbery. The noodles keep softening while they are mixed, so they come out of the pot 30 seconds short of the package time, and both noodles and seafood are drained hard so no water dilutes the sauce.
Okara (soy pulp) is dry-toasted until crumbly, then mixed with vinegar-cured sardine, salted cucumber and carrot, and sweet simmered fried tofu, all held together by a thick peanut and miso dressing. The dish comes from the Boso coast of Chiba, and each portion is squeezed by hand into a small rice-bale shape. Store-bought okara added straight from the pack carries too much water and turns the mix soggy, which is why it is toasted first. The salted vegetables and the vinegar-rinsed sardine also need to be well drained, or the shaped bales slump. Toasty okara, salty fish, sweet vinegared miso and yuzu peel land in a single bite.
In Seoul and Gyeonggi people mostly say maneuljong, and elsewhere often maneuljjong, but both mean the same curling flower stalk of the garlic plant. Tender spring scapes get just 20 to 30 seconds in boiling water before going into a gochujang, vinegar, and sugar dressing, and they stay bright green with a firm snap.
Aralia shoots, the spring buds Koreans call durup, go into this pickle raw so the stems keep their snap and their woody, slightly bitter aroma. The brine leans on soy sauce rather than vinegar, since too much acid would bury that fragrance. Garlic and hot green chili leave a sharp finish, and a brief 20-second blanch is an option for anyone who finds the bitterness strong. Kept submerged and chilled, it lasts about 2 weeks and suits rice or a lettuce wrap with grilled meat.
Thick udon wears a coat of red gochujang dressing in this cold cup, with raw shredded cabbage and carrot adding crunch against the soft noodles. Oligosaccharide syrup gives the sauce enough body to cling to slippery udon, and vinegar keeps the heat bright rather than heavy. The frozen udon is blanched for just 1 minute so the thick strands keep their spring. Cabbage and carrot are pressed dry with a paper towel first to keep their water from thinning the dressing. Portioned into cups, it is easy to carry and eat by hand, though it tastes best served cold right away before the noodles swell.
Kuzukiri starch noodles, wakame, sudare-fu, konjac, carrot, udo and cucumber are cut long and thin and arranged by color around a bowl of thick sesame and white miso sauce for dipping. Around Kaga in Ishikawa it was served at funerals and memorial services in place of sashimi, and the konjac is still sliced thin like raw fish. Each component is prepared its own way, so slippery noodles, springy konjac and crisp vegetables stay distinct on the plate.
Minari, sold in English as water parsley, smells clean and green in a way parsley and celery do not, and the scent does not survive much heat. Past 20 seconds in the pot it leaves with the steam and only the crunch remains, which is why the blanching stops there.
Cold, soft eggplant soaked in a sweet-sour soy brine, with garlic and a little hot chili running through it, makes a chilled side dish rather than a long-keeping preserve. The eggplant is cut into thick lengthwise quarters because its tender flesh collapses easily, and thick pieces still hold their shape after blanching. Absorbing the brine takes a full day of chilling, too long for same-day cooking, and the jar stays refrigerated rather than on the shelf.
Chewy canned whelk, slippery somyeon and crisp cucumber and onion all meet in one spicy-sour gochujang dressing, a classic drinking snack in Korea. A spoonful of the canning liquid stirred into the sauce deepens its savory base, while a quick rinse of the whelk itself tames the salt. Ice-cold water right after boiling keeps the noodles firm and bouncy once the dressing goes on.
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.
Dried miyeok swells more than eightfold in a 20-minute soak, so adding extra because the dry pile looks small quickly turns one side dish into a big bowlful.
Pouring boiling soy brine straight over whole green peppers lightly blanches the skins to a brighter green while the flesh inside stays raw and crisp. Toothpick holes in each pepper let the brine past the thick walls to the seeds. The finished pickle tastes salty, gently sour and still hot, since the capsaicin mellows in the brine but never disappears, and two or three peppers are enough to carry a bowl of plain rice. Cheongyang chilies make a sharper version, and kkwari peppers give a milder, more tender one.
Born in the Chinese immigrant community of Kolkata and now cooked across India, Hakka noodles keep their seasoning spare: soy sauce, a little vinegar and black pepper. Cabbage, carrot and bell pepper are cut into thin strips close to the width of the noodles, so each forkful picks up both evenly, and they spend only a minute or two over high heat to keep their snap.
Thin and wiry, kkosiraegi seaweed snaps cleanly between the teeth, a texture nothing like soft miyeok or kelp. Twenty seconds in boiling water is the limit, and an immediate plunge into cold water brings back the spring. Maesil-cheong, a sweet green plum syrup, gives the sour dressing a fruity note, and cucumber strips add a fresh, green aroma against the sea flavor. Served cold, it makes a refreshing summer side.
Miyeokgwi, the ruffled base of the sea mustard plant (sold as mekabu in Japan), is thicker and bumpier than the leaves and bounces back when you bite it. It is dressed sweet, sour, and hot with chili flakes, soy, vinegar, and sugar, then chilled for 10 minutes before serving.
Brine poured over whole green chilies just 5 minutes off the boil sears their skins, knocking the heat down a notch while the flesh inside stays crisp. Each bite brings salty soy savor first, then the pepper's clean sting.
Ice-chilled ramen noodles topped with neat stripes of egg crepe, ham, cucumber and tomato get a tangy soy-vinegar dressing poured over instead of a broth. Because the sauce is a drizzle, not a soup, each topping keeps its own flavor and color. Cutting the egg, ham and cucumber to the same thin width makes the plate look tidy and lets every bite pick up a bit of everything, and the dressing goes on only at the table so the noodles stay springy.
It looks like radish saengchae, but kohlrabi is juicier and lightly sweet, closer to a pear, which gives the salad a noticeably different taste. The vegetable is the swollen base of a cabbage-family stem, and its fibrous outer layer comes off in a thick peel. Fish sauce supplies savory depth and vinegar a sour lift, both framing the mild sweetness. It turns up most in spring and autumn, when kohlrabi is in season.
Oiji are cucumbers put down in brine for a month or more in summer, when cucumbers are everywhere, and they come out with a firm, chewy crunch nothing like a fresh one. Straight from the brine they are too salty. The slices soak in cold water for about 30 minutes, though a bite of one slice tells you more than the timer.
Equal parts hot Cheongyang chili and mild, crunchy cucumber pepper, sliced into thin strips, balance heat against crunch in every bite. The brine is simply soy sauce, vinegar, sugar and water in the same amounts, boiled and briefly cooled, so the result is sweet, sour and salty at once. Because the strips are only 2 to 3 mm thick, they take on the brine far faster than whole pickled peppers and are ready the next day to serve with grilled meat.