I used to have a weekly winter ritual with my parents. Every Friday night we would go to the same hole-in-the-wall Korean restaurant in Sydney’s north-west, and order the same thing. (Our Malaysian-Chinese heritage gave us a special appreciation for spicy food, in generous portions at the right price.)
The dining room featured a few small tables squeezed around an even smaller kitchen, where an elderly Korean woman stood alone, cooking for her guests.
Sometimes we would make a point of looking at the menu and discuss trying something else. But we would always end up ordering three deceptively small, black ceramic bowls of sundubu jjigae, a hearty stew of silken tofu and seafood, fire-engine red with Korean chilli peppers, served still bubbling with a side of rice. Each spicy, savoury sip burned a path from our mouths to our stomachs until our insides were warmed through.
While the word jjigae (pronounced like “chee-gae”) is often translated to “stew” on English menus, Heather Jeong, a Sydney-based Korean cookery instructor, says this is not entirely accurate. The closest western equivalent she can think of is minestrone, a half-soup, half-stew where the broth and the solid ingredients contribute equally to the overall appeal.
Milder Korean soups like guk and tang are typically served as part of a larger meal, but jjigae is substantial enough to be eaten on its own - always with a side of rice and kimchi, she says.
Soups are integral to the Korean diet. “I think historically most Asian countries struggled with poverty, produce and climate, so soup was a way of cooking that used less ingredients and fed the masses,” says Jeong.
Sadly, the chef at my family’s regular restaurant retired. And when her younger relative took over, the jjigae was never as tasty, though we couldn’t work out exactly why.
We’ve tried many great versions of sundubu jjigae since and while some have come close, none have totally lived up to the original.
This was where my obsession with jjigae began. I set out to learn how to make not only this gateway jjigae, but all of the most popular jjigae of Korean cuisine: sundubu jjigae, kimchi jiigae, gochujang jjigae and doenjang jjigae. Chicken soup may be for the soul, but jjigae is comfort food of the highest order.
‘I immediately burnt the gochugaru to a crisp’: making sundubu jjigae
The distinguishing flavour of sundubu jjigae comes from sauteing gochugaru (Korean red chilli powder) in sesame oil. The first time I tried this, I immediately burnt the gochugaru to a crisp.
According to recipe website My Korean Kitchen, the trick is to keep the heat very low, and not to leave the gochugaru alone in the pot for too long before adding the seafood, vegetables and broth. Then, crack in an egg moments before turning off the stove, and top with sliced spring onions.
In many Korean restaurants I’ve eaten at, sundubu jjigae is served the way my parents and I enjoyed it – spicy and red. But Kenny Yong Soo Son, co-owner of Sáng by Mabasa in Sydney, says this is a contemporary version of the dish.
“Traditionally speaking, sundubu [jjigae] is not red. There’s no chilli that goes into it, it’s milder,” Son says. “In some regions [of Korea], they only do a white sundubu jjigae.”
Jeong says white sundubu jjigae with oysters is particularly special.
In the non-spicy version, the broth and the silken tofu are the heroes of a jjigae that is lighter in flavour and colour, and the taste of seafood such as clams or salted shrimp is more noticeable.
When I made the white version with prawns, the contrast with my beloved red version couldn’t have been greater. Instead of walloping my tastebuds, there was a gentle caress: a clear broth that was at once complex, subtle and sweet.
The ‘desert island’ soup: kimchi jjigae
Kimchi jjigae might just be the most popular Korean stew.
“If you ask 10 Koreans, ‘What is one soup you would take with you to a desert island?’ they’ll probably say kimchi jjigae because Koreans can’t really live without kimchi,” says Son.
The key to making great kimchi jjigae is to use older, more fermented kimchi for a deeper flavour.
“We would usually stir-fry the kimchi before the liquid base goes in, with a bit of sesame oil, and then scallions [spring onions], and then also some gochugaru to develop almost like a chilli oil,” says Son. For an even more intense flavour, he recommends eating jjigae a day or two after cooking it.
Recipes typically include firm tofu and pork belly, the latter of which is said to be a “match made in heaven” for kimchi.
Gochujang jjigae, with ‘miso on steroids’
Gochujang jjigae combines two of Korea’s most widely used fermented sauces, gochujang (Korean chilli paste) and doenjang (soy bean paste), which is “miso on steroids”, says Jeong.
Gochujang, which is made with gochugaru, glutinous rice and soy sauce, has a gooey, slightly spiced sweetness that shines in this soup. Recipes vary on how much you should include. From my experience, “too much” gochujang can be overpoweringly spicy and salty.
Jeong recommends a ratio of two parts gochujang, one part doenjang, but you can adjust this to your own taste.
Gochujang jjigae includes pork or beef but can also be made vegetarian, by omitting the meat and including only the typical zucchini, mushrooms and jalapenos.
‘The soul of Korean cooking’: doenjang jjigae
This mild, comforting stew contains zucchini and potatoes, and of course, doenjang, and is said to be the first solid meal fed to Korean babies. Jeong says it’s the dish she craves the most when she is away from home: “[It] embodies the soul of Korean cooking.”
Eun Hee An, chef and owner of Melbourne’s Moon Mart (the eatery is currently relocating from its West Melbourne spot), says her grandma used to make doenjang from scratch when she was growing up in Korea. “It was always our breakfast soup. So I grew up eating doenjang jjigae every day in my life,” she says.
An recommends finding doenjang which contains fewer ingredients, as industrially produced brands often use flour to speed up the fermentation. The best doenjang, she says, will only contain soy beans and salt.
Taking stock: making dasima yuksu from scratch
After months experimenting with different jjigae recipes, gochujang and doenjang are now staple ingredients in my fridge, and all of these jjigae are in my regular cooking rotation. They are versatile – the proteins and vegetables are interchangeable so you can use up whatever you have in the fridge or pantry – and they are relatively quick to make.
But there’s one key technique that has eluded me: the stock. Myeolchi yuksu (dried-anchovy stock) or dasima yuksu (kelp stock) are essential for creating a deep, rich base for jjigae, but until recently I’ve only used the vegan alternative: water.
An says a great jjigae depends on a great stock base. “If I’m not going to make a good jjigae, I’d rather not make it”, she says. (The lengthy cooking time is the reason jjigae was not on Moon Mart’s daily menu, though it sometimes appeared as a weekend special.)
Recently, in pursuit of an exceptional doenjang jjigae, I made my own kelp stock from scratch. I learned the hard way that you should avoid boiling the kelp – it leaves a bitter, even sour, aftertaste.
To make dasima yuksu, An recommends soaking the dried kelp in cold water for an hour, removing the kelp, then simmering the water for 15 minutes. She brings it to a boil, adds aromatics like daikon and spring onion roots, and simmers the stock for another hour.
I followed An’s advice, and was eventually rewarded with a clear, gently savoury stock to add to my jjigae, transforming an old friend into a whole new dish - and reminding me that even tried and tested food rituals can be improved upon.
