All recipes

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Sungnyung (scorched rice tea)

Before electric rice cookers, every Korean pot of rice left a golden crust, nurungji, stuck to the bottom. Rather than waste it, cooks poured in water and simmered it while the family ate, and the warm, cloudy sungnyung was drunk at the end of the meal in place of tea. Older Koreans still describe it as the taste of home, and many Seoul restaurants that cook rice in stone pots finish by pouring water over the crust at the table. It tastes of toasted grain and has a faint natural sweetness, with soft pieces of crust to spoon up at the bottom. Without a stone pot you can make the crust from leftover rice in a frying pan. The common mistake is rushing the crust over high heat: it blackens on the outside and turns the drink bitter while the middle stays soft. Keep the heat low and patient, and aim for even golden-brown. The crust is ready when it lifts away from the pan in one sheet and smells like popcorn; the sungnyung is ready when the water is milky and pale gold. Chef's tip: make extra crust, dry it completely and keep it in a jar, so you can make sungnyung in ten minutes any evening.

35 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Daechu-cha (jujube tea)

Boeun county in North Chungcheong is famous for its large, sweet jujubes, harvested each October and sold at a lively autumn festival. Once dried, they become daechu-cha, the deep amber tea Korean traditional teahouses in Insadong and Jeonju serve from late autumn to early spring, topped with pine nuts. Long, slow simmering with ginger and a stick of cinnamon draws out a flavour like dates, caramel and baked apple; pressing the softened flesh through a sieve gives the tea its velvety, almost soup-thick body. It is traditionally drunk to warm up on cold nights. The common mistake is simply boiling whole jujubes and straining: the skins stay sealed, the tea comes out thin and pale, and most of the sweetness is thrown away. Slit each jujube, simmer until the flesh slides off the stone, then mash the pulp through the sieve. It is ready when the liquid has reduced by about half, is dark amber and lightly coats a spoon. Keep it covered in the fridge for up to 5 days and reheat gently. Chef's tip: a few slices of fresh ginger added in the last 20 minutes give a brighter heat than ginger boiled for the whole time.

110 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Maesil-cha (green plum tea)

In early June the hillsides of Gwangyang are picked clean of hard green maesil, and Korean kitchens across the country fill with jars of plums buried in sugar. Over about a hundred days the sugar draws out the fruit's juice and becomes maesil-cheong, a golden syrup that is both a cooking ingredient and a drink. Iced, it is the summer cooler; hot, it is traditionally drunk after a heavy meal for digestion. It tastes bright and tart, like green apple and apricot, rounded by the sugar. The common mistake is putting damp plums or plums with stalks into the jar: water and stalk ends invite mould and unwanted fermentation. Pick out each stalk with a toothpick and dry the fruit completely. The syrup is ready when the plums have shrivelled and float in clear amber liquid. A little foaming early on is normal, but if it smells strongly of alcohol, grows fuzzy mould or turns slimy, discard it. Remove the plums at 100 days, because their stones contain natural compounds best kept out of a long-stored syrup. Chef's tip: use half white and half light brown sugar for a rounder, toffee-edged syrup.

40 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Misutgaru (multigrain powder drink)

Misutgaru began as travellers' food, a powder of roasted grains that kept for weeks and could be stirred into water on the road. Today it is the drink of Korean summer: mothers shake it with cold milk for breakfast before school, office workers buy it as misutgaru latte from cafés, and farmers drink it at midday in the fields of July. The powder is a mix of roasted barley, glutinous and brown rice, black and yellow soybeans, and sesame, and it tastes of toasted cereal and peanut, lightly sweet, with a thick, creamy body that fills you up like a light meal. The common mistake is tipping the powder into a full glass of milk and stirring: it floats, clumps into dry balls and never fully mixes. Shake it in a jar with a little liquid first, or blend it, then add the rest. It is ready when the drink is smooth, beige and frothy with no dry flecks, and slightly thickened after a minute's rest. Use water or soy milk for a dairy-free version, and note that the barley means it is not gluten free. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt makes the grain flavour taste rounder and less flat.

5 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

SaeujeotSalted shrimp

Saeujeot is the quiet backbone of Korean cooking. Tiny shrimp from the west coast are packed in salt at sea or on the quay, and the most famous jars age in the old tunnels of Gwangcheon or come from Ganghwa Island. Shrimp caught in June (yukjeot) are prized for kimjang kimchi in November; autumn shrimp (chujeot) go into everyday cooking. A spoonful seasons steamed eggs, stews and kimchi, and a little dish of it, with chilli and sesame, is set beside boiled pork for bossam. It tastes intensely salty, sweet and oceanic, and the shrimp stay plump and pale pink. This is a raw, salt-cured seafood: pregnant people, babies, older people and anyone with weak immunity should only eat it cooked into a hot dish, never raw in kimchi or dips. The common mistake is skimping on salt; the cure needs 30% salt by weight to stay safe, so weigh everything. It is ready after at least 3 months in the fridge, when the liquid is clear amber and the smell is sweet and briny, never ammonia-like. Chef's tip: buy shrimp sold for making jeot, frozen at sea, and work fast while they are still icy.

30 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

YujacheongYuja citron preserve

When the first frost comes to Goheung in South Jeolla and Namhae island in November, the yuja orchards turn gold, and households slice the knobbly, deeply perfumed fruit into sugar to make yujacheong. Through the winter, a few spoonfuls in a mug of hot water make yuja-cha, the tea Koreans reach for on cold evenings and when they feel a cold coming on; it is also spooned over yoghurt, toast or into salad dressings. It tastes floral, sharp and sweet, with tender strips of peel and a thick golden syrup. The sugar is what preserves it: equal weights of fruit and sugar, kept in the fridge once the sugar dissolves. The common mistake is leaving it warm too long: after a day or two on the counter it can start to ferment and fizz, so move it to the fridge as soon as the sugar has mostly melted. It is ready after about a week, when the peel is translucent and the syrup thick. No yuja? Use Meyer lemons, or two lemons for every mandarin. Bubbles or a boozy smell mean it has started to ferment: refrigerate it at once; mould means throw it away. Chef's tip: scrub the skins with baking soda first; you are eating the whole peel, so it must be spotless.

40 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pisco sour

Lima drinks its pisco sour as the aperitif before a long ceviche lunch, and celebrates it every year on the first Saturday of February; the recipe took shape in the city's bars in the 1920s. It is for adults only and stronger than its pillowy look suggests. Underneath a thick white foam you get sharp Peruvian lime, a clean sweetness and the floral, grapey warmth of quebranta pisco, with the bitters adding a spicy smell to every sip. The texture should be silky, almost creamy, never thin. The classic mistake is squeezing the limes too hard or too early: the oil from the pith turns the drink bitter within half an hour. Halve the limes, press each half gently by hand just before mixing and stop when the juice slows. The egg white is raw, so use pasteurised egg white for anyone pregnant, for babies, older people or anyone unwell, or swap in 30 ml aquafaba. It is ready when the foam stands about 1 cm high and is firm enough to hold the drops of bitters on its surface. Sip one slowly and drink responsibly. Chef's tip: shake once without ice first to whip the egg white, then again with ice; the foam will be twice as thick.

5 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ají amarillo pasteYellow chilli paste

In Lima's markets ají amarillo is sold fresh all year, and most Peruvian cooks keep a tub of this paste in the fridge the way others keep tomato purée: it is the golden base of causa limeña, ají de gallina, papa a la huancaína, chupe and the sauce for tiraditos. The chillies are seeded, de-veined and blanched in three changes of water, which tames the heat and the raw grassiness, then peeled and blended with oil into a thick, silky, saffron-orange paste. It tastes fruity and sunny, almost like apricot and passion fruit, with a rounded, medium heat. Abroad, buy whole frozen ají amarillo from Latin grocers; dried ají mirasol, soaked, gives a darker, earthier paste. Common mistake: skipping the peeling; the thin skins leave papery flecks and a bitter edge. It is ready when it is completely smooth and holds a soft peak like thick hummus. This is a low-acid paste: keep it in the fridge for a week or freeze it, never on the shelf. Chef's tip: freeze it in an ice-cube tray; one cube is about a tablespoon, just right for a pot of ají de gallina.

40 min

Peruvian Basics

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Chilcano de piscoPisco and ginger ale highball

When Lima's grey winter finally lifts and summer reaches the beaches south of the city, the chilcano takes over from the pisco sour: lighter, longer and made for an afternoon. Peru even gives it a Semana del Chilcano each January, and it is poured at weekend lunches with chifa or fried fish. This is a highball for adults only: pisco poured over a tall glass of ice with fresh lime and ginger ale, finished with a few drops of bitters. It should taste crisp and fizzy, with the ginger and lime lifting the floral grape notes of the pisco rather than hiding them. The common mistake is using too little ice and warm ginger ale, which gives a sweet, diluted drink that goes flat in minutes. Fill the glass to the top with ice and keep the ginger ale in the fridge until the last second. It is ready when the glass is frosty, the bubbles race up the sides and the bitters drift through the top as a pink haze. Light it may be, but drink responsibly. Chef's tip: try a fruit-infused pisco, made by steeping passion fruit or mandarin peel in the bottle for a few days; Limeños love a chilcano de maracuyá.

10 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Jugo de macaWarm maca drink

Before dawn at markets in Huancayo, Cusco and Lima, juice ladies ladle hot jugo de maca from big pots for workers on their way in: maca root, a turnip relative grown above 4,000 metres in the Junín highlands, simmered with milk, cinnamon and cloves and sweetened with honey or sugar. It tastes malty and toasty, a bit like butterscotch. The common mistake is stirring the powder straight into hot milk, which leaves gritty lumps; whisk it into a little cold milk first. Maca is not usually advised in pregnancy, so ask your doctor first if you are pregnant. Chef's tip: use gelatinised (cooked) maca powder if you can find it; it dissolves smoothly and is gentler on the stomach.

10 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Jugo surtidoMixed fruit juice

Step up to any juguería in Lima's Mercado de Surquillo or a barrio market at breakfast time and order a surtido: the juicer drops papaya, banana, pineapple and freshly squeezed orange into a tall blender, sometimes a slice of cooked beetroot for colour or a splash of milk, and pours you a big glass with the rest left in the jug for your 'yapa', the free refill. It is thick but still pourable, sweet from ripe fruit with a sharp orange edge, the kind of drink that stands in for breakfast before a long day. The common mistake is adding lots of ice and water, which makes it thin and frothy rather than velvety. Use cold fruit and freshly squeezed orange juice as the liquid. It is ready when it coats the glass and no lumps of banana are left. This version is fruit only; stalls also make it with milk if you prefer. Drink it straight away: papaya and banana go brown and bitter within half an hour. Chef's tip: use very ripe papaya with orange flesh; under-ripe papaya tastes of nothing and gives a faintly bitter aftertaste.

10 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Mate de muñaAndean mint tea

Muña is the minty shrub that grows wild on the slopes around Cusco, Puno and the Sacred Valley, and highland cooks reach for it after a heavy meal of chicharrón or when visitors are struggling with the altitude. Market herb sellers sell it in fresh bunches, and hotels and homes leave it in a flask for anyone coming in from the cold evenings. Steeped simply in hot water, it smells somewhere between spearmint, oregano and pennyroyal, with a cooling, slightly peppery taste and a pale green-gold colour. It is traditionally drunk to settle the stomach. The usual mistake is boiling the leaves hard for a long time, which turns the tea brown and bitter. Pour water just off the boil over the sprigs, cover, and let it steep. It is ready when the cup is pale gold and the aroma rises as soon as you lift the lid. Outside Peru, look for dried muña in Latin shops; failing that, use mostly spearmint with a little fresh oregano. Muña is strong: avoid large amounts in pregnancy, and check with a doctor if you take regular medication. Chef's tip: cover the cup while it steeps so the scented oils stay in the tea.

8 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Refresco de coconaCocona cooler

In Iquitos, Pucallpa and the river towns of Loreto, heat and humidity make a cold refresco part of every lunch, and cocona is one of the favourites sold from plastic jugs at the Belén market. The fruit looks like a fuzzy orange tomato and tastes between tomato, lemon and apricot: very sour, aromatic and juicy. Blended with water and sugar it makes a tangy, golden drink with a light pulp, served with juane or tacacho con cecina. The usual mistake is skipping the fuzz: cocona skin is covered in fine hairs that make the drink scratchy, so rub them off under running water before you start. Blend only briefly, too, so the many seeds do not crack. It is ready when the refresco is opaque orange, sour first and sweet after, with no grit. Outside the Amazon, look for frozen cocona pulp in Latin American shops; naranjilla (lulo) pulp is the closest substitute. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt makes the fruit taste sweeter and fruitier without more sugar.

10 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Cocido quemadoBurnt sugar mate drink

Cocido is how Paraguay starts the day: in Asunción, in the villages of Guairá and Itapúa, and in school kitchens, a pot of burnt yerba is brewed and poured into cups with chipa, the cheesy cassava bread, or with a hard galleta. The old way is to drop a glowing piece of charcoal into a pot with yerba and sugar and stir until the sugar burns. On a home stove you caramelise them together in a dry pan instead, which is safer and gives the same smoky, toffee-like taste. The drink is clear amber-brown, with roasted, slightly bitter mate notes over burnt-sugar sweetness; with milk added it becomes cocido con leche, creamy and coffee-coloured. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so treat it like a cup of coffee. The common mistake is letting the sugar go black: it turns acrid and bitter. Pull it off the heat when the caramel is deep amber and the yerba smells toasted, not burnt. It is ready when the liquid is a clear dark amber and tastes of toffee and smoke. Chef's tip: the water will spit fiercely when it hits the hot caramel, so pour it in from the side, at arm's length.

14 min

Paraguayan Drinks

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ssanghwa-cha (herbal tonic tea)

Ssanghwa-cha is the strongest thing on the menu of an old Korean dabang. From the 1960s these smoky tea rooms served it in thick ceramic cups, dark as coffee, with pine nuts, slivered jujube and walnut floating on top; in winter some still slide a raw egg yolk in, which this recipe leaves out. The brew comes from Korean herbal tradition, where ssanghwa-tang is drunk to warm up and recover from tiredness after hard work or a cold. It tastes earthy and bitter at first, then sweet from licorice and jujube, with warmth from cinnamon and ginger and a celery-like perfume from angelica. Herbal shops sell the roots in pre-measured packs. The common mistake is boiling it hard: the liquid reduces too fast and turns harsh. Keep a gentle simmer with the lid ajar for two hours. It is ready when it is very dark brown, reduced to about a third and smells of cinnamon and roots. Because it contains licorice and angelica, skip it if you are pregnant or breastfeeding, have high blood pressure, or take blood thinners or other medicines unless your doctor agrees. Chef's tip: a second, lighter brew from the same roots is good with honey.

135 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Homemade doenjangFermented soybean paste

Doenjang starts in late autumn, after the soybean harvest, when Korean households used to boil beans in a cauldron, pound them into bricks and hang the meju from the rafters on straw ropes to grow a white, sweet-smelling bloom over the winter. In early spring, on a clear dry day, the bricks are dropped into salt brine in an onggi jar with dried chillies, jujubes and a red-hot piece of charcoal. Some six to eight weeks later the dark liquid is drawn off and boiled into soup soy sauce (guk-ganjang), and the softened bricks are mashed into doenjang, which ripens through the summer. It is chunkier, saltier and funkier than miso, with a nutty, almost smoky depth: the backbone of doenjang-jjigae, ssamjang and spinach namul. Common mistake: making the brick too thick or drying it in a warm, still room, so the centre rots before it dries; keep it about 6 cm thick and hang it where air moves. The paste is ready when it is mid-brown, smells of toasted nuts and soy, and tastes salty-sweet rather than sharp. Chef's tip: you can buy dried meju blocks from Korean grocers and start at the brining step.

300 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Homemade gochujangChilli bean paste

Sunchang, a small county in North Jeolla, is so tied to gochujang that it holds a jang festival every October, but the paste itself is traditionally made in the cold weeks of late winter, when there are no flies and it can ferment slowly in glazed onggi jars on the sunny jangdokdae terrace. Glutinous rice flour is broken down by barley malt into a sweet, runny porridge, boiled down, then beaten with fine chilli powder, fermented soybean (meju) powder, rice syrup and salt. Young, it is bright, sweet and fiery; after two or three months it darkens to brick red and gains a round, savoury depth, thick enough to hold a ridge on the spoon. It goes into bibimbap, tteokbokki, ssamjang, stews and marinades all year. Common mistake: adding the chilli and salt while the porridge is still hot, which dulls the colour and can make the paste turn sour; wait until it is lukewarm. It is ready when it is glossy, deep red, and smells sweet and earthy with no sharp, boozy note. Chef's tip: hold the malt and rice at 55–60 °C on a rice cooker's keep-warm setting; any hotter and the malt enzymes stop working, so the porridge never thins.

210 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

MaesilcheongGreen plum syrup

In early June, Gwangyang in South Jeolla holds its plum festival under hillsides of maesil trees, and across Korea families buy crates of hard green maesil plums to make maesilcheong. The plums are layered with an equal weight of sugar in big glass jars, and over 100 days the sugar draws out their juice into a tart, fruity amber syrup. It is the Korean kitchen's all-purpose sweetener: a spoonful in a marinade for bulgogi, in salad dressings and in kimchi, and diluted with cold water as a summer drink traditionally taken after a heavy meal. It tastes sweet, sour and almond-scented. Expect a little natural fermentation: a few bubbles and a trace of alcohol (well under 1%) are normal while the sugar dissolves, so keep the lid loose. The common mistake is wet fruit: any water left on the plums or stem scars can lead to mould, so dry them for hours. Ready when the plums have shrivelled and float, and the syrup is clear amber. Raw green plum stones contain compounds that release cyanide: never crush, bite or eat the stones, and remove the fruit after 100 days. No maesil? Use hard green apricots, with the same care. Chef's tip: use half brown sugar for a deeper colour and caramel note.

30 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Misutgaru drinkRoasted multigrain shake

Misutgaru is a fine beige powder of roasted grains and beans, usually barley, brown rice, glutinous rice, black beans and sesame, and Korean mums have shaken it into cold milk for rushed breakfasts for generations. It tastes like toasted cereal and a little like peanut butter, and it fills you up until lunch. The mistake is stirring the powder straight into a full glass, which leaves dry lumps floating on top; shake it in a jar or whisk it into a little liquid first. Honey is not suitable for babies under one. Chef's tip: add a few ice cubes to the jar before shaking, which breaks up any lumps and froths the drink.

5 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Oksusu-chaRoasted corn tea

Oksusu-cha is the tea Korean households boil by the kettleful and keep in the fridge in old glass bottles, drunk instead of water with meals from Seoul apartments to Gangwon farmhouses, chilled in summer and hot in winter. Dried corn kernels are roasted until dark golden, then simmered to make a pale amber tea that tastes gently sweet and toasty, though nothing is added at all. About 0.0 g salt per glass. The usual mistake is boiling the kernels too long, which makes the tea cloudy and starchy; 15 minutes is plenty. Ready-roasted corn kernels are sold in Korean shops; if roasting your own, use dried corn, not fresh or tinned. Chef's tip: mix in a spoon of roasted barley for the classic boricha blend, rounder and more nutty, though no longer gluten free.

22 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

ChapoPlantain and milk drink

Breakfast stalls in Iquitos and the riverside towns of Loreto pour chapo into glasses from big steaming pots before the heat of the day sets in, and by afternoon the same drink is sold chilled. It is made from plantains left until their skins are black, simmered with cinnamon and cloves until soft, then blended smooth and loosened with milk. The result is thick, naturally sweet and gently spiced, somewhere between a smoothie and a thin custard, and children love it. Some families make it with water only; evaporated milk is the common addition in town. The mistake is using plantains that are still yellow-green: they taste starchy and the drink turns grey and gluey, so wait until the skins are mostly black and the fruit gives when pressed. Serve hot with bread or a tamal, or cold over ice. Chef's tip: strain it through a sieve after blending for a silky drink, and thin it with water if it thickens as it cools.

30 min

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Quinua con manzanaQuinoa and apple drink

Morning market stalls and street carts from Lima to Huancayo ladle quinua con manzana into glasses alongside emoliente and maca, and many people drink it as breakfast on its own, with a bread roll or a sandwich beside it. Quinoa and chunks of apple are simmered with cinnamon and cloves until the grains burst and the liquid thickens, then sweetened and served warm or cold. Some stalls blend it smooth; others leave the grains and soft apple pieces to spoon up. It is mild, fruity and filling, and children usually like it. The mistake that ruins it is skipping the rinse: quinoa's natural coating, saponin, makes the drink bitter and soapy, so rub it under running water until the foam stops. Chef's tip: add a few drops of lime at the end; it lifts the apple and keeps the drink from tasting flat.

40 min