Kimchi jjigae

Korean kimchi stew: the perfect use for aged kimchi

Origin: Korea

From the journey of Cabbage.

Kimchi jjigae (김치찌개) is arguably the most-eaten hot dish in Korea, a bubbling, brick-red stew of old kimchi and pork (or tuna) that anchors the Korean lunch table with extraordinary reliability and flavour. The genius of kimchi jjigae is that it rescues and elevates kimchi that has become too sour and fermented to eat fresh, the very kimchi that is most challenging to serve raw is the best possible ingredient for this stew, because the long fermentation has produced an intensity of lactic acid, garlic, ginger, and seafood umami that blooms magnificently when simmered with fatty pork. The dish is found on the menu of virtually every Korean restaurant in the world, ordered daily by millions of Koreans, and is the dish most frequently cited by Koreans abroad as the one they miss most from home. It is served in a hot stone pot (dolsot), still furiously boiling at the table, with a raw egg sometimes cracked in to cook in the residual heat. The combination of bright red broth, fatty pork, cubes of silken tofu, and the sharp, fermented depth of well-aged kimchi is one of the great flavour achievements of Korean cuisine.

Ingredients

Kimchi

  • 300 g well-fermented baechu kimchi (2–4 weeks old minimum, or older), cut into 3cm pieces; keep the brine

Protein

  • 200 g pork belly or shoulder, cut into 2cm cubes (or 1 tin of tuna in oil, drained)

Tofu

  • 200 g firm or silken tofu, cubed

Spice

  • 2 tbsp gochugaru (Korean red chilli flakes)
  • 1 tbsp gochujang (Korean fermented chilli paste)

Fat

  • 1 tsp sesame oil

Aromatics

  • 3 garlic cloves, minced

Liquid

  • 400 ml water or very light stock

Seasoning

  • 1 tsp soy sauce
  • 0.5 tsp sugar

Finish

  • 2 spring onions, sliced diagonally, to finish

Optional

  • 2 eggs (optional, cracked in at the very end)

Method

  1. In a small pot or Korean dolsot (stone pot), heat the sesame oil over medium-high heat. Add the pork belly and cook for 3–4 minutes until lightly browned and some fat has rendered. Add the garlic and stir for 30 seconds.
  2. Add the kimchi and its brine. Stir and cook for 2 minutes, letting the kimchi sizzle and caramelise slightly against the pork fat.
  3. Add the gochugaru and gochujang. Stir well so the paste coats the pork and kimchi.
  4. Pour in the water or stock. Add the soy sauce and sugar. Bring to a rolling boil, then reduce to a vigorous simmer. Cook, uncovered, for 15–20 minutes until the pork is tender and the broth is brick-red and deeply flavoured.
  5. Add the tofu cubes. Simmer for a further 3–4 minutes until the tofu is heated through. If cracking eggs in, reduce heat to low, crack the egg directly onto the surface of the stew and cover for 2 minutes until the white is set but the yolk is still runny.
  6. Scatter spring onions over the top. Serve immediately in the pot, placed on a trivet on the table, with steamed white rice and an assortment of banchan (side dishes) alongside.

Notes

The older the kimchi, the better the jjigae: this is the one preparation where the most aggressively sour, over-fermented kimchi produces the finest result. Fresh kimchi will produce a thinner, less complex broth. Tuna (tuna jjigae) is the most common substitute for pork and produces a lighter, sharper stew with less richness but strong umami from the canned tuna oil. For a vegetarian/vegan version, use kombu dashi as the liquid and soy sauce in place of any animal products.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

To explore — select an ingredient below.

Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1800s
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1800 CE
3000 BCE600 CE1400 CE1800s
Cabbage

Cabbage

Brassica oleracea

VegetablesBrassicas

🌍Origin

Celtic Europe: Coastal regions of southern and western Europe — c. 600 BCE

🌱Domestication

Wild Brassica oleracea grows naturally along the sea cliffs and limestone outcrops of Atlantic Europe, from the Galician coast of Iberia north through Brittany to the chalk headlands of southern England: a tough, wind-resistant, salt-tolerant plant adapted to thin maritime soils, perennial and intensely cold-hardy, and the ancestor of an entire dynasty of cultivated vegetables. It is amongst the most remarkable single-species domestications in the whole of agricultural history. Through long centuries of selective cultivation, one wild cliff plant has been bred into cabbage, kale, Brussels sprouts, kohlrabi, broccoli, cauliflower, and the Savoy cabbage; these are distinct vegetables to every cook's eye, but botanically they remain the same species, each the result of human selection pulling the plant in a different direction. The cabbage is B. oleracea selected for the terminal bud, swelling into a dense head; kale is the same plant selected for the loose leaf; Brussels sprouts for the lateral buds along the stem; kohlrabi for the swollen stem; broccoli and cauliflower for the immature flower head. That a single wild plant should contain all these futures within it is one of the quiet marvels of the kitchen garden. The oldest cultivated form was kale: loose-leafed, hardy, and nutritionally dense, it was the dominant green vegetable across northern Europe for millennia before the dense-heading cabbage emerged. The Celtic peoples of the Atlantic fringe were cultivating improved leaf forms by at least 600 BCE, and a Celtic word for a leafy brassica survives, much altered, across several European languages. The classical world held the plant in unusual esteem. Cato the Elder, in his De Agricultura of around 160 BCE, devotes a sustained passage to the cabbage, to its cultivation, its preparation, and above all its medicinal virtues, endorsing it above every other vegetable with a conviction that reads almost as moral instruction; he held that the Romans owed their long health to it. Greek physicians before him, including Diocles of Carystus, had written of the brassica leaf as a remedy and a tonic. By the time of Pliny the Elder, in the first century of the common era, dozens of distinct Roman varieties were under cultivation, from compact heading types to open, loose-leafed forms, grown across the empire from Britain to North Africa. It was the Romans, with their market gardens and their legions, who first carried the dense heading cabbage out of its Atlantic homeland and into the broader European diet, beginning a spread that would eventually reach almost every cold-wintered land on earth.

Global Voyage

The Romans carried cabbage cultivation across their empire with characteristic thoroughness. The legions depended upon it as a portable, cold-tolerant provision that could be grown wherever they settled, and the Roman kitchen worked it into a range of preparations, from raw leaves dressed with oil and vinegar to whole heads braised slowly with cumin and coriander. When the western empire fragmented, the cabbage did not retreat with it but became the dominant vegetable of the medieval European peasant, the green that grew where little else would and stood in the field through frost. Pottage, the thick daily broth of cabbage, kale, grain, and root vegetables simmered in a single pot, was the everyday meal of the great majority of Europe's population from the fields of Ireland and England to the Carpathian foothills, and it sustained whole populations through the long winters when no other green vegetable survived. The cabbage was the food of the poor in the most literal sense, the vegetable that stood between the peasant household and hunger. The plant also travelled east. Arab physicians and merchants knew the cultivated heading cabbage and carried it along the North African trade routes and through Persia; by the time of the Yuan dynasty it had reached northern China, where it was absorbed into the high-heat stir-fry and the slow braise of the northern kitchen, and where the Chinese also developed their own distinct heading brassicas. The most consequential chapter of the cabbage's history, however, lies in fermentation. Across Germanic and Slavic Central Europe the salting and souring of shredded cabbage was perfected as a means of preserving the autumn harvest through the winter, a method that, unknown to those who practised it, also conserved and even generated the vitamin C that warded off scurvy when no fresh food was to be had. In the west this produced sauerkraut, the sharp, pale, lactic-fermented cabbage of Germany, Alsace, and Poland; in Russia it became kvashennaya kapusta, the fermented cabbage at the heart of the daily shchi. A parallel and quite independent tradition arose in northeast Asia, where the salting and seasoning of brassicas culminated, after the arrival of the chilli, in Korea's kimchi, the most elaborate and culturally significant fermented cabbage tradition in the world. The cabbage crossed the Atlantic early. Jacques Cartier planted European cabbage in the kitchen gardens of the St Lawrence valley on his third voyage in 1541, amongst the first European vegetables grown in North America, and French settlers carried its cultivation through New France whilst later waves of Irish, German, and Dutch immigrants brought their own cabbage traditions to the United States. From these transplantings came the corned beef and cabbage of the Irish-American festive table, born in the immigrant kitchens of New York, and the coleslaw whose very name preserves the Dutch koolsla, 'cabbage salad'. From an Atlantic sea cliff to the soup pots of Russia, the fermenting crocks of Korea, and the Saint Patrick's Day table of America, the cabbage became one of the truly global vegetables, the staple green of the cold-wintered world.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

China is the world's largest cabbage producer, accounting for roughly half of global output, with South Korea, India, and Russia amongst the major secondary producers. The plant's enduring importance rests on a rare combination of virtues: it is cheap, it stores well, it is densely nutritious, and it grows in cold and difficult conditions where more delicate vegetables fail. For these reasons the cabbage remains central to the everyday cooking of every continent, from the Irish colcannon to the Brazilian repolho refogado to the Ethiopian tikel gomen, the unglamorous but indispensable green of the working kitchen. Its most significant modern role, however, is as the basis of the great fermented cabbage cultures, which rank amongst the most nutritionally important preserved foods in human history. Sauerkraut in Germany, Alsace, and Poland; kvashennaya kapusta in Russia; and kimchi in Korea all depend on the same salt-induced lactic fermentation that preserves the harvest and conserves vitamin C through the winter months when, historically, no fresh vegetable was to be had. In Korea this tradition has risen from a domestic necessity into a codified national identity: baechu-kimchi, made from napa cabbage with chilli, garlic, ginger, and fermented seafood, is the most widely made and eaten form, and the annual communal making of it, kimjang, was inscribed on the UNESCO list of Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2013. The several cultivated forms now divide the work of the kitchen between them. The dense white cabbage is the workhorse of slaws, sauerkraut, and the braise; the crinkled Savoy is prized for the tenderness of its leaf in the soup and the stuffed roll; red cabbage, with its anthocyanin pigment, is braised long with apple, vinegar, and spice; and the pale, loose-headed napa or Chinese leaf is the cabbage of the East Asian stir-fry, the hotpot, and the kimchi crock. Once the food of the medieval poor, the cabbage has become at once a global commodity, a vehicle of one of the world's most celebrated fermentation traditions, and a vegetable enjoying a fresh reputation as fermented foods are newly prized for the health of the gut.

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