East Asian

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.

Although this stew has much in common with the humble American beef stew, it is legitimately Japanese and wonderfully flavored with soy, ginger, mirin (the Japanese sweet cooking wine, for which sugar or honey is an adequate substitute), winter squash, and, perhaps best of all, the peel and juice of a lemon. The combination is one of simple and delicious counterpoints that make this a great stew. Ambitious cooks may want to include dashi, the quickly made stock that is one of the most fundamental flavors of Japanese cooking, but the stew is great when made with chicken stock or, for that matter, water. Other cuts of meat you can use here: short ribs (which will require longer cooking time), bone-in chicken thighs (which will cook more quickly), veal shoulder or round.

Spring through fall, you may be able to find wild Alaska king or sockeye salmon (if you live in the Northwest or even on the West Coast, this won’t be a problem), and that is ideal for this dish. Farm-raised salmon, available year-round everywhere, is certainly an acceptable substitute, but it is fattier and has less flavor, so it’ll make a bit more of a mess when you brown it, and it will not stand up quite as well to the sauce. Serve this with short-grain rice (page 507).

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.

The name of this dish may be cute, but it also reflects its simplicity; it is an honest sweet-and-sour pork dish. While the ribs need to braise for at least 40 minutes, the preparation time is just 10 minutes or so. Ask your butcher to cut across the ribs to form 1-inch strips (a supermarket butcher can do this), then have him separate the ribs, or you can do that part yourself. This dish reheats perfectly. Serve the ribs with white rice.

Chinese fermented black beans (see page 207) keep forever and add a distinctive flavor to every dish they’re used in; best yet, most people like them immediately. This classic highlights them perfectly. Ask the butcher to cut the ribs into small pieces for you (a supermarket butcher can do this). Serve as a starter or an entree with steamed white rice.

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.

This is not a stir-fry but a simmered dish, easy and fast. The cooking time totals about 10 minutes, and the preparation time is about the same, so make sure to start a pot of rice before anything else. Other meat you can use here: ground turkey, chicken, veal, or beef.

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.

Essentially a simplified sauerkraut and a very light pickle. Use good-quality soy sauce and serve this as a side dish with Japanese or other Asian food. Do not try to make this in very hot weather; fifty or sixty degrees is ideal. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: any mixture of vegetables, as in the variation.

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.

The Japanese not only love eggplant; they also produce some of the best—the slender, long, lavender-colored varieties are sweeter and firmer than the fat, almost black ones. Here the skinny ones are essential. Make this up to an hour in advance; like many eggplant dishes, it’s good at room temperature. Or make in advance and run under the broiler to reheat, until the miso topping bubbles (reserve the sesame seeds until after you do this).

The bright green stir-fry of Chinese restaurants. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: if you can’t find gai lan, use broccoli raab or even collards or kale; broccoli or cauliflower will work too.

A small and perfectly easy dish. The finishing touch of hot sesame oil is a common garnish in Hong Kong and a nice one.

Black cod, a Pacific fish also known as sable, is treasured in Japan (and at elite Japanese restaurants here) for its richness and slightly smoky flavor. With miso it is astonishingly delicious. (Mackerel is not the same but still very good.) Use white (it’s actually beige) miso if you can find it. As is common before cooking many types of fish in Japan, this is salted to firm up the flesh; you can skip this step if you prefer. This is not a super-saucy dish, but well-made short-grain rice (page 507) is still a good accompaniment, as would be any salad.

Many Japanese cooks treasure dark, oily, full-flavored fish and treat it with a simple dose of powerful seasonings and a simple cooking technique that might be called “pan-steaming.” If you think you don’t like mackerel, try it this way; it may change your mind. Serve this with short-grain white rice (page 507).

The first time I was served this I found it completely bizarre, as you may. But I loved it instantly. It’s from Szechwan but is equally at home with Asian and European dishes, as long as they have some guts. The quality of this dish is maintained for only a few minutes; as it gets cold, it becomes far less appealing. So—really—prepare it at the last minute and serve it immediately.

Because this dish has only two ingredients, finding the best shrimp is of utmost importance. In Hong Kong, where only live fish is considered fresh, live shrimp are common. Here you may find them at some fishmongers (especially in Chinese neighborhoods) and even in some Western supermarkets. The wine traditionally used for this dish in the south of China is Mei Kuei Lu Chiew and is quite strong and a little sweet; you can find it at many Chinese markets. Shopping hassles aside, this dish is worth trying. Serve it with an assortment of other Chinese dishes or as a starter.

The usefulness of miso is nearly unlimited, and it can convert the simplest of ingredients into an exotic dish, a secret of much of Japanese cooking. Here the fermented soybean paste is combined with scallops and a little seasoning, then allowed to sit for a while before being grilled or broiled. It’s a traditional dish, in some parts of Japan the home-cooking equivalent of slathering something with barbecue sauce before cooking. For ease of use and strict authenticity, the miso should be thinned—it’s too thick to use straight—with mirin, the sweet, golden-colored wine made from rice (and Japan’s most important sweetener before the introduction of white sugar). Mirin, too, comes in a naturally brewed form called hon-mirin; it’s preferable to aji-mirin, which may be boosted with corn syrup; check the label. But the amount of mirin is so small, and its flavor in this dish so subtle, that you can use a fruity, sweet white wine in its place or even honey. If you can, try this with Asparagus Salad with Soy-Mustard Dressing (page 190) or a plain salad. And a bit of short-grain rice, of course.