Korean

Editor's note: Use this recipe to make Chef David Chang's Bo Ssäm. This is the kimchi we use most often in our cooking and in our restaurants.

Buy thinly sliced beef at Korean markets, or ask your butcher to cut it for you.

Chances are if you’ve ever eaten at a Korean restaurant, you’ve already had a variation of this specialty served to you as one of the banchan, or small dishes that accompany your meal. Traditionally, the tofu is lightly fried, but gentle simmering preserves the soft tofu’s smooth delicacy. Using firm tofu won’t yield the same texture, but the slices will maintain their shape a bit better. Considering how easy this dish is to prepare, it’s amazing that such complex tastes abound. Serve with a hot bowl of rice for a simple meal.

Both the ribs and the greens need to marinate overnight, so plan accordingly.

Korean kalbi is soy-marinated chuck flanken-style beef ribs grilled quickly and eaten with rice wrapped in crisp lettuce leaves. Our cheater kalbi uses the same soy-based marinade, but is cooked as a stew in the slow cooker. We usually swap the traditional flanken ribs for regular beef short ribs, which have larger bones that fall right out, leaving a nice pile of shredded meat. Short ribs are also easier for us to find. Set the table taco-style with iceberg lettuce cups for shells. Along with the meat, stuff the lettuce shells with Korean kimchi, white rice, green onions, and hot peppers. We throw in some fresh cilantro, too.

My wife, Marja, makes the best truly authentic Korean bulgogi. This is my take on that dish, with a hint of orange and a little heat. Instead of starting with thinly sliced meat, as is traditional, I cook a whole flank steak and then slice it just before serving.

For years, I thought the in-table-grill was such an important part of cooking bul kalbi that I never even tried to make it at home. I realized, however, that the time the meat spends over the coals—certainly less than five minutes—might be long enough to add the mental image of wood flavor, but certainly not the reality. So, with what might be described as typical American arrogance, I set about reinventing this traditional Korean dish, and I’m happy with the results. Grilling remains the best cooking technique—a couple of minutes over a very hot fire is ideal—but a stovetop grill or a very hot skillet works nearly as well, as long as you have a powerful exhaust fan to suck out the smoke. Alternatively, a good broiler will do the trick; just turn the slices once. Finally, if you set an iron skillet or a heavy roasting pan in an oven heated to its maximum, then throw the meat onto that, it will sear the meat and cook it through in a couple of minutes. No matter how you cook the meat, do not sacrifice internal juices for external browning; that is, it’s better to serve lightly browned but moist meat than tough, overcooked meat with a lovely crust.

Much like the Egg Flower Soup (and Stracciatella variation) on page 115, but far more substantial and suitable as a main course. This is a perfect soup for a cold winter night; many Koreans would add considerably more garlic and a bit of ground hot pepper as well.

Like Japan, Korea makes good use of fermented beans, in the form of soy sauce and the terrific chilibean paste known as go chu jang (page 591). If you cannot find that, use the Sesame-Chile Paste on page 591 or hoisin, spiked with a couple of pinches of cayenne or dried red chile flakes, but don’t make the dish too hot—it should be predominantly sweet, sticky, and spicy. Serve with white rice, preferably short grain (page 507), and a salad or vegetable.

Koreans are big on sesame seeds, and they’re big on marinating. They’re also big on big flavors, as this wonderful grilled chicken demonstrates. You can buy pretoasted sesame seeds and even sesame seed powder at Korean markets, something you might consider if you become addicted to this cuisine; but toasting them takes no time at all. If you’re really feeling energetic, serve this with Potato Pancakes with Scallions and Kimchi (page 474). But plain white rice and a salad would also be fine, especially if the salad were made with seaweed, like the one on page 200 (omit the chicken or shrimp).

This is a very fast and almost equally flavorful relative of Kalbi Jim (page 388). If you cannot find go chu jang, the chili-bean paste sold in Korean markets, substitute a couple of tablespoons of good miso and add more hot red pepper flakes to taste. All you need to complete this meal is white rice. Other cuts of meat you can use here: boneless pork, preferably from the shoulder or leg (fresh ham); boneless chicken thighs.

Koreans prepare and enjoy dozens of different stews and usually eat them so hot (in temperature—they’re often served over a flame so they are actually boiling while they’re being eaten) that Westerners are astonished. Some are so mild that they seem almost French; others are dark and richly flavorful, like this classic. Serve with white rice. Other cuts of meat you can use here: lamb shanks.

No rib-cooking technique makes more sense than the one used in Korea, which begins with a tenderizing poaching and continues with a kind of dry-roasting in the fat and juices exuded by the ribs themselves, along with a dose of strong seasonings. It results in ribs that are dark, glossy, and so tender that just a tug of the teeth will pull them off the bone. If possible, ask your butcher to cut the ribs into 2-inch lengths, which will make them easier to cook (and to eat). I love these preceded by Pajon (page 80) and, of course, with some Kimchi (page 444) on the side, but you may serve them with white rice and a simple steamed vegetable. Other cuts of meat you can use here: short ribs (which will take considerably longer to cook in step 2).

Korean meat stews tend to be dark and flavorful; in this one, the last-minute addition of silky bean curd gives the stew an almost creamy dimension. If you can find a jar of go chu jang, the chili paste sold in Korean markets, the dish will gain authenticity. But I have had good results with a couple of tablespoons of good miso, which is far easier to find, and a large pinch (or more) of hot red pepper flakes. Rice completes this meal, but adding a vegetable makes it even nicer.

Soy-glazed black beans are a common panchan—little side dish—in Korea, but they’re also served in Japan; in both countries they’re usually served at room temperature. They are about as far from the cumin- and garlic-laced black beans of Mexico (see page 438) as they could be. In Asia, they’re made with black soybeans, which are larger and rounder than the more common black (“turtle”) beans you see everywhere. But you can use either. Serve this as if it were a little salad, with any Korean or Japanese cooked dish.

Kimchi, the world’s best-known Korean ingredient, generally describes pickled vegetables, though cabbage is the most common choice. Originally a basic salt pickle, chiles were introduced in the sixteenth century, followed soon thereafter by fish or shrimp paste. Regional influences determine the level of pungency, with warmer regions producing kimchi heavily seasoned with chile powder and anchovy paste. Some take to kimchi immediately; for others it is an acquired taste. For information on nam pla (Thai fish sauce), see page 500. If you love kimchi, you’ll enjoy making this version. Even though it’s quick, the results will be as good as that found at most restaurants and better than almost any version you’ve bought in jars. Kept refrigerated, it will last for about a week. Dried salted shrimp are inexpensive and keep forever; you’ll find them at most Asian markets.

Nori, the familiar seaweed used for rolling sushi, is a popular snack in Korea, especially when treated this way. And if you use the pieces of nori to pick up clumps of rice—a common after-school snack—you may find yourself making this frequently.

Usually served as a panchan (side dish or small appetizer), this makes a fine little salad, too. Like many panchan, it contains sesame oil. To trim bean sprouts—a process I consider unnecessary but many people worldwide believe essential—simply pull off the thin little tail.

Crunchy, mildly sweet, and lightly spicy, this is a lovely little salad I learned in Kyoto. If you can find myoga—a lily root that looks something like garlic and is sold at some Asian markets—use it instead of the onion. Like onion, it’s spicy and peppery; unlike onion, if you eat too much of it, you forget everything— or so I was told.

You can buy go chu jang, the excellent, slightly sweet and not-superhot Korean chile paste that is a part of Crab Soup (page 135) and many other Korean dishes, but in many places it’s easier just to make this substitute, which keeps for about a month, covered, in the refrigerator. It’s a good sauce for any grilled food or even raw vegetables. The best chile powder for this is not the typical Mexican chile powder but ground Korean chiles—co chu kara—which (obviously) you can buy at Korean markets (you can also buy pretoasted and ground sesame seeds). It’s bright red, looks like coarse cayenne, and is not super hot. A good alternative is chile powder made from ground New Mexico chiles.

A festive dish that takes a bit of preparation—a simple enough process, but quite a few steps. Nevertheless, it’s a delicious and unusual noodle dish, and because it’s best served at room temperature, you can make it a couple of hours in advance. Substitute shrimp or fish for the meat (or omit it entirely) if you like. Precooked fish cake is available at Korean or Japanese markets. Potato starch noodles are available at Korean markets.

If you like seaweed salad, try this. Traditionally offered to nursing mothers, it’s soothing in the winter and cooling in the summer (see variation). To slice the beef thinly, freeze it until it is just beginning to harden, 30 to 60 minutes. Miyuk is the Korean word known to the Japanese as wakame and elsewhere as alaria (see page 484); you should be able to find it at Asian markets.

Mandoo are Korean dumplings almost identical to gyoza, though they are more often steamed than panfried. If you don’t feel like making dumplings, you can use this broth to make soup with duk, Korean rice cakes; these are sold fresh or frozen at most Korean markets. Sometimes noodles are added to this soup as well, a nice but unnecessary touch.