East Asian

Editor's note: Use this recipe to make Chef David Chang's Bo Ssäm. Ssämjang—a spicy fermented bean paste sold in Korean markets—is a traditional accompaniment to grilled meats. Ssämjang is like the love child of two Korean sauces: a mix of denjang (Korea's funkier answer to Japanese miso) and kochujang, a spicy chile paste. Anyway, rather than just thinning out the ssämjang with oil or water as is most commonly done, we've allied ssämjang with extra kochujang and added vinegar in the mix to bring up the acidity of the sauce.

Editor's note: Use this recipe to make Chef David Chang's Bo Ssäm. Japanese short-grain white rice is the only rice we make. We, like all restaurants and many home cooks, use a rice cooker to prepare it—it's just that much easier and more reliable than cooking rice on the stove. Here are directions for both methods.

Our bo ssäm was a long time in the making before it showed up on the menu. I'd had an inkling for years it would be a good idea—bo ssäm is a supercommon dish in Korean restaurants, though the ingredients and cooking that go into it are frequently an afterthought. The oysters are usually Gulf oysters from a bucket, the kind that are really only suited to frying; the pork is belly that's been boiled into submission. Almost every time I ate it at a restaurant, I'd think about how much better it would be if all the ingredients were awesome. The first time we made one was for family meal back when we'd just started serving kimchi puree on our oysters at Noodle Bar. One of the new cooks was fucking up oysters left and right, so I made him shuck a few dozen perfectly, and then we ate them ssäm-style: wrapped up in lettuce with rice, kimchi, and some shredded pork shoulder that was otherwise destined for the ramen bowl. (The shoulder in our bo ssäm is, essentially, the same shoulder we put in the soup at Noodle Bar, except that we add more sugar in the last step to make the crust even more delicious—it's like a shoulder encrusted in pig candy.) So there, in the cramped, dark subterranean kitchen of Noodle Bar, I ate the best bo ssäm of my life. I think that experience and our take on the bo ssäm are typical of the way we approach "traditional" dishes: with one foot rooted in tradition and the other foot kicking it forward. There is a great line from Emerson that sums up my perspective perfectly: "Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote these books."

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.

This glaze also makes for an addictive tray of chicken wings. Use the same weight and method as for the ribs, but reduce final cooking time by 10 minutes.

The buckwheat in soba is nutritious and a good source of fiber (and it's flavorful, too).

When we visited Kyoto, a few hours' ride from Tokyo on the famous Bullet train, we found a little restaurant in the heart of town that won us over with the names of dishes listed on the menu: Firecracker Tofu, Pickled Mixed Radish Salad, and the mysterious sounding Okonomiyaki. The chefs were clearly having fun at this place, and we were blown away by the depth of flavor they achieved with such simple preparations. We threw back some sake and tore through plate after plate of food. This salad is inspired by that meal, featuring quirky sea beans (a seaweed-like swamp/beach vegetable) and the haunting flavor of shiso (Japanese mint). You can find fresh sea beans at a gourmet market. If they're not available, substitute pencil-thin asparagus. Look for shiso in Asian markets, but substitute fresh cilantro if you can't find it.

If paella escaped from Spain, sailed to China, and did some soul-searching along the way, you'd have arroz gordo, the namesake dish at Chicago's Fat Rice. The generous pot of aromatic rice, curry-scented chicken, and (much) more can be traced back to Macau, the former Portuguese colony in China, where it's almost always served at home. Chefs Conlon and Lo took inspiration from foreign-language cookbooks; their version is a blend of Portuguese and Chinese cooking that Conlon calls "the original fusion."

Lush pork, toothsome noodles, and a heady broth you can't stop slurping—it's no wonder ramen joints are drawing droves of diners, off-duty chefs, and seemingly everyone on your Instagram feed. Bringing shoyu ramen home takes a trip to an Asian market, three days of work, and your largest pot, but this low-stress (really!) labor of love might be the best soup you'll ever make.

The shape of the crystals varies quite a bit from brand to brand, so measuring kosher salts by weight is the most reliable method. Not ready to invest in a scale? See the box below for volume conversions.

To give steaks a boost, Myers makes an herb rub (he likes to dry the herbs himself; if you don't have a microwave, sub in 1 teaspoon of each dried herb) and pairs the meat with a tart ponzu sauce (ponzu is available at Asian markets and some supermarkets).

I call this hapa food. The term hapa is deliciously slippery. It is often used to describe mixed-race Japanese Americans but not always. For me, being hapa provides a way of claiming a whole racial and ethnic identity as opposed to thinking of myself as "just" or "only" half-and-half. I am a whole person, and my experience of race, culture, and nationality is more complicated than adding fractions. This dish did not emerge from a place of separation in which two disparate things were fused together, but rather from the co-constitution, interdependence, and wholeness of my life as a hapa growing peaches in the United States and cooking food from my multiple cultural and racial lineages that go far beyond this country¿s borders. I have learned to make and cook my own path. Biting into this treat is like unleashing a burst of glowing peach wrapped in a crunchy cocoon. This could be served as a side dish with other tempura, on top of a salad, or even with green tea ice cream and chile-infused honey as a dessert. When we step outside of rigid categories, possibilities are infinite, no? --Nikiko

Sweet and sour are two of the five flavors of classical Chinese cooking (along with salty, pungent, and bitter), and go lo yuk, as the dish is called, is a favorite way to prepare pork in Cantonese cooking. I prefer fresh pineapple, but if you like your dish sweeter, use canned pineapple and reserve some of the juice from the can to add to the sauce in place of fresh pineapple juice.

Fiery kimchi gets a little sweetness from gochujang pepper paste.

Spicy Sichuan pepper, which delivers a numbing effect along with nuanced heat, will leave your lips buzzing. Use any leftover chili oil in dressings or marinades.

"Battering and frying green beans makes them addictive, obviously!" —Sue Li, recipe developer

Benefits: Anti-Inflammation + Metabolism + Cleansing As the name would suggest, this soup is perfect to eat in the spring, just when your body is most naturally poised for cleansing. This soup, traditionally eaten in China as a springtime ritual, has natural detoxifying properties, mainly deriving from the watercress. Watercress has natural diuretic properties that help you release excess fluids, which often contain toxins and waste products. Of course, feel free to eat this soup for cleansing any time of year!

Benefits: Heart + Metabolism My mother innovated constantly to satisfy her two sons' demanding palates, so she adapted quinoa with brown rice to make one of our all-time favorite foods: sushi. Once called "Inca Gold" due to its stamina-building properties, quinoa contains all the essential amino acids, rendering it a complete protein food. Its high manganese content supplies the body's production of superoxide dismutase, an enzyme that protects against free radical damage to your energy factory. Consider this an energizing longevity recipe!

White miso might sound like the kind of ingredient that sends you in search of a specialty store, but in fact it is the most common type of miso paste, and you're likely to find it in the international or Asian food section of the supermarket. It's a lighter, sweeter alternative to dark miso, which is generally used in soup, and it often appears in dressings like the one for this easy Japanese noodle salad. You can make the dressing in the time it takes to cook the soba, and if you add some thinly sliced cooked chicken, beef, or shrimp, you'll have a one-dish meal.