gochujang eggplant pasta with crispy scallions
“[I think] this taste is [the] first time I taste, so I cannot compare [to] other food. This is the best.”
— 할머니
Time: 45-55 minutes
Servings: 4
Ingredients:
~3 tbsp panko breadcrumbs
sea salt
1 medium-sized eggplant
10 oz shallots, sliced thinly (3 large shallots or 6 small shallots)
sea salt
extra-virgin olive oil, to drizzle
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
8 scallions
2-4 oz king oyster, trumpet, or shiitake mushrooms, sliced
[mushrooms normally sold in 4 oz increments]
4 garlic cloves, minced
1.5-2 tbsp gochujang (depending on spice level)
2 tsp sesame oil
1 tbsp honey
1 tsp rice wine vinegar
1 ⅓ cup dry white wine
4 servings of any long pasta or rigatoni, cooked 1 minute less than according to package
(see Try Experimenting with for gluten-free subs)
optional garnishes: chopped parsley, basil (highly recommend), black and/or white sesame seeds
Recipe:
1. Preheat oven to broil low (~400 deg F). Cut eggplant in halves and lightly salt. Place eggplant and sliced shallots on a parchment-covered sheet pan. Drizzle EVOO over cut-side of eggplant and shallots. Flip eggplant face down. Broil eggplant and shallots on the middle-top rack for 25 minutes, or until eggplant insides are mushy and shallots are translucent.
Don’t spread the shallots out too thin on the pan or else they will burn. In fact, it is better if the shallots are piled on top of each other, so they will cook more gently. If you are using two sheet pans instead of one sheet pan, place the eggplant on a higher rack and shallots on a lower rack. When you broil, heat emanates from the top, so you want the eggplants to bare most of the heat.
2. Using large pan with high sides, toast panko for 1-2 minutes until golden.
3. Using knife, remove scallion roots. Cut lower third (white shoots) lengthwise, parallel to the grain. Chop the middle third (tougher green shoots) on a bias. Cut top third (floppy green shoots) lengthwise, parallel to the grain.
You will fry the lower and top third. Save the middle third for garnish.
4. In the same pan on medium low heat, add olive oil. Pat the lower and top thirds dry. Once olive oil is shining, shimmering, and splendid, add the white and green shoots (lower and top third). Fry for 1-2 minutes each side, or until golden. Remove from pan and set aside on paper towel.
Scallions will burn fast! Don’t stray away from the pan. When removing scallions from pan, tap utensil along the side of pan to drip excess oil and save as much oil in the pan. Careful! Oil will splatter! I said “will,” not “might.” But the danger is worth it. It is important to reserve as much scallion oil as possible at all costs.
5. Add mushrooms to the same pan with the reserved scallion oil. On medium heat, cook on each side for 3-5 minutes. Remove from pan and set aside.
Again, when removing scallions from pan, tap utensil along the side of pan to save as much oil as possible in the pan.
6. Lower heat to medium low. Add sheet pan shallots (it’s okay if some are burnt) to the same pan with scallion oil. Add garlic, and spread out the alliums evenly. Finish the caramelization in the pan (~3-5 minutes, or until brown and jammy). Once shallots are caramelized, turn off heat.
gochujang-eggplant puree
7. Remove the insides of eggplant from skin. Blend the eggplant insides and juices, gochujang, honey, rice wine vinegar, and sesame oil until a loose, red-orange puree forms.
The eggplant will be very hot once removed from oven. To remove the insides, use a pair of tongs to stabilize the side farthest from you while using a spoon to scoop toward you.
At this point, taste the puree. The puree should be slightly more spicy than your normal spice level. Do not fear: the spice will be diluted in both deglazing steps.
8. On the stovetop, turn heat to low. Add puree to caramelized shallots in the pan. Mix until homogeneous.
Do not throw the blender in the sink yet, and do not worry if you cannot get all of puree out of the blender.
9. Pour yourself a glass of wine (~1 cup) and turn your cooking playlist up a notch or two. Deglaze with the remaining 1/3 cup white wine, reincorporating burnt allium bits stuck to the pan into the sauce.
10. While the sauce comes together on low heat, boil lightly salted water in a pot and cook pasta according to the package. Set aside ⅔ cup pasta water once cooked.
11. Add ⅔ cup pasta water to the blender with residual puree. Blend to loosen sauce from bottom and sides.
12. Once alcohol begins to burn off (~5-10 minutes), the sauce will start sticking to the pan again. Deglaze again by adding half of the blended pasta water. Taste sauce, assess consistency to your liking, and add remaining pasta water incrementally if too spicy or too thick. Mix to loosen sauce.
13. Combine pasta and sauce in pan. Mix.
13. Top with mushrooms, and garnish with crispy scallions, fresh bias-cut scallions, fresh herbs (parsley or basil), black and/or white sesame seeds, and toasted panko bread crumbs. Serve immediately. Voila wheat, fungi, fermented red pepper, alliums, and nightshade!
Non-negotiables:
Shallots — In test #XXX.2, I didn’t have enough shallots, so I mixed in a few red onions. The sliced red onions did not cook at the same rate as the shallots. While the shallots got jammy, the red onions were still translucent. Flavor-wise, shallots are also a much milder allium. FYI, 1 shallot equals the whole bulb, not the individual pieces.
Scallions — Although frying the scallions seems like an extra step just to garnish, it is the foundation of the whole recipe. This step creates the scallion oil which cooks the mushrooms and becomes the base of the sauce.
Gochujang — Gochujang is a traditional, sweetened, fermented, Korean red pepper and soybean paste. Do not substitute gochugaru, chili oil, sriracha, red pepper flakes, Thai chili peppers, jalapenos, etc. I don’t want to hear it. Go support your local Asian market, especially in this time when elderly, innocent Asian Americans are facing vicious hate crimes, and purchase a small tub of gochujang. Gochujang lasts forever: I actually used “expired” gochujang in all these tests. You can also use gochujang to thin out into a bibimbap sauce, to slather as a marinade on protein, or to season any banchan (vegetable side dishes).
Medium-sized eggplant — Larger eggplants tend to be more bitter. The eggplant provides the creamy, dairy-free base of the sauce. If for some ungodly reason you don’t like the taste of eggplant, don’t worry. You won’t be able to taste it mixed in with the gochujang puree. Trust me, my stepdad has the palate of a picky elementary schooler: he ate test #2 and test #3, and he did not raise any eyebrows at the sauce.
Any ingredient in the eggplant paste — After test #2, I decided I wanted to model the eggplant paste after a bibimbap sauce. Bibimbap sauce has a complete flavor profile—salt, fat, acid, heat, and sweet—so each ingredient from the sesame oil to vinegar is integral. But since we are limiting unnecessary excursions in a pandemic, you could probably sub the honey for mirin or apple cider/white wine vinegar for rice wine vinegar.
Try experimenting with:
Pasta shape — Go for any long pasta (spaghetti, fettuccine, bucatini, etc) or rigatoni. My personal pasta manifesto is that the best pasta shapes exist at the two opposite ends of the spectrum: long tubular (bucatini) and short tubular (rigatoni). These two shapes will also allow you to build the most height (see styling tips). I also tried the recipe out with two gluten-free pastas (chickpea and brown rice). I am not gluten-free, but I actually do like eating gluten-free pasta because they add an additional protein source and nutritional value to my meal. I always cook my gluten-free pasta a couple minutes less than package instructions to prevent it from falling apart. I would not opt for any strongly flavored gluten-free pasta (lentil, black bean, etc.) though.
Mushrooms —After test #1, I realized the dish needed a mediating texture--something in between the al dente pasta and crispy scallions/crunchy panko. You could really use any mushroom in this recipe from more Asian ones I call for or just white, portobello, crimini, etc.
Cooking on a weekday? — You can prep the meal ahead of time by broiling the eggplant and shallots on a sheet pan. The cooked eggplant and caramelized shallots will keep for up to three days in the fridge.
Styling tips:
Shoot for pasta gods — Build height on your pasta, swirling your long noodles or building a mountain of rigatoni. Accentuate the pyramidal shape by forming a tent with the crispy scallion shards.
Go off on the garnish — Garnishes provide texture that allow the eyes to eat. I use all the garnishes in the ingredient list. For without garnish, the dish could be mistaken for any other red sauce.
Keep the background simple — I would photograph this dish on any soft, cool or warm toned background. Any background too saturated or textured will compete with the brightly red sauce and garnish variety.
Action! — Go for a pasta pull!
Recipe Development:
Test #XXX.1 — Believe or not, this recipe originated from a 2nd science experiment. Throughout college, I taught science once a week to 2nd and 3rd graders with a group of other college students. Cabbage pH was one of our infamous experiments, always received with gasps and cheers. When you drop different liquids into boiled red cabbage juice, the cabbage juice changes colors. Red cabbage has a water-soluble pigment called anthocyanin. After it is leached out from the cabbage into water, anthocyanin acts as a pH indicator. In the presence of acids, it turns pink. In the presence of bases, it turns blue. Just imagine an eight-year-old’s eyes widen as she squeezes lemon juice and the resulting liquid is a bright unicorn pink.
Inspired by my undergraduate outreach, I wanted to bring cabbage pH into a recipe. Similarly to how lemon juice is dripped into the cabbage indicator, I wanted to dip a food into a sauce. The food that came to mind? Summer rolls (Gỏi Cuốn). I would boil the noodles in the purple cabbage indicator. The noodles would take up the anthrocyanin, so that when dipped into a fish sauce dressing (Nuoc Cham), the noodles would change color!
Yet, as I boiled the vermicelli noodles in the cabbage juice (spoiler alert: they did not take up the dye), I felt entirely self-conscious. I am not genetically Vietnamese, but I count Vietnamese culture to be a part of my blended family’s. My stepdad, who has been a paternal figure in my life for 12+ years now, is Vietnamese-American. I grew up exposed to Vietnamese culture (more than your average pho). Vietnamese food remains one of my favorite cuisines due to its simplicity: the food is uncluttered, allowing steaming broths and fresh herbs speak for themselves.
Recently, I’ve also seen resurgence of “rice paper rolls” on my feed. These rolls feature a bizarre combination of seasonal produce with some alternative nut-based dipping sauce. These new-age rice paper rolls incite a gag reflex, and I’m not even Vietnamese. I’m not judging their diet: people can eat whatever they want (although I am judging their tastebuds). But something about the summer rolls filled with radicchio and dipped in an almond butter sauce does not seem right. It neglects the simple beauty of traditional Vietnamese cuisine.
Of course, none of these rice paper rolls are citing themselves as authentic, and I was neither planning to claim any authenticity. But I felt as though I was paying similar type of unintentional cultural lip service with my color-changing summer rolls. Summer rolls do not have to be given an edge, modernized, or elevated. I decided to leave summer rolls alone. (The noodles did not take up the purple cabbage juice anyways. I do think the noodles would have taken up the juice if I boiled the cabbage for longer. The nuoc cham though did change colors from brown to pink when I added drops of the pure cabbage juice!).
Test #XXX.2 — I was still quite attached though to the idea of color-changing noodles. While pink, purple, or blue pasta does sound entirely unappetizing, I held on because of a witty idea for a recipe title: PHasta. (Yes, I am an ex-English major to a fault, and sometimes I get inspiration from good copy itself.) I figured wheat-based pasta would better take in the cabbage juice. Wheat takes up water while starch (i.e., rice) wards off water. This science is the same reasoning that I call for cornstarch instead of flour to coat Miso Brown Butter x Black Pepper Tofu. The spaghetti did turn purple; however, when added to a caramelized shallot, lemon, and eggplant sauce, it turned into the most revolting color--a pinkish brown that made the pasta look like worms.
What I did right - The pasta itself did not taste like cabbage at all. The caramelized shallot and pureed eggplant was creamy (without any dairy). It hit basic taste notes: salty, umami, and acidic. I tested salted v. unsalted eggplant. I’ve read the claim that salting your eggplant makes the nightshade less bitter. However, I’ve also read that this step is only necessary when frying because less water equates to a better fry. I actually found no difference in taste. But as expected, there was a difference in consistency. The unsalted eggplant retained its juices, making it easier to scoop and puree.
Needs improvement - The base did need two or more ingredients to build flavor: heat and tang. The cabbage juice was not worth the extra 20 minutes because the color was so unattractive.
Test #1 — I decided to abandon the cabbage pH indicator entirely. PHasta, you were an interesting experiment with a witty recipe title, but you have been chopped. Chopping the cabbage allowed me to add the additional necessary ingredients and introduce new techniques into the recipe. I published a poll on my stories, asking which iteration of a caramelized + eggplant pasta I should try next:
tahini + sumac + crumbled feta
gochujang + crispy scallions
anchovies + parmesan.
The first idea is inspired by Levant cuisine, specifically akin to a baba ghanoush. I actually prefer baba ghanoush over hummus for its creamier consistency. (Don’t worry, I will do a more thorough dive into the cultural context and origin when I develop this iteration.) The second idea is inspired by NYT food writer Eric Joon Ho’s gochujang-glazed eggplant with crispy scallions and The Korean Vegan (Joanne Molinaro)’s gochujang marinara. I have not tried either of these recipes, but as both EJH and TKV identify as Korean-American, their gochujang adventures gave me some sense of relief that I—who also identify as Korean-American—am not bastardizing the traditional red pepper paste. The third idea origins most notably from Alison Roman’s cult caramelized shallot pasta, or as the infamous cook (who still owes major reparations for her food appropriation and anti-Asian food remarks) has deemed “the Pasta.” In early quarantine, when I thought Roman’s vocal fry was endearingly relatable (and not soul-grating), I made her pasta dish twice. I never repeat a recipe. Roman makes a killer dish when she stays in her lane.
No option gained a majority. The poll garnered 202 total votes: 32% for tahini-sumac-feta, 42% for gochujang-crispy scallions, and 26% for anchovies-parm. I live to please (and to be honest, they all sound good to me), so I decided that I would develop all three. I decided to start with gochujang-crispy scallions, the option with the highest percentage.
What I did right - Building the sauce all in one pan (i.e., using the scallion oil to caramelize the shallots) provided a strong, allium-forward base for the pungent gochujang. The gochujang added complexity with a slight heat and tang. I like the tall plating, building a tent with the crispy scallions and eggplant chips. The panko provided a crunchy texture to offset the al dente chickpea pasta.
Needs improvement - I followed EJH’s recipe for crispy scallions, but our scallions must be different. EJH calls to fry the scallions, whites and greens separately, for 8 minutes! My scallions burned after 3 minutes. Also, in an effort to minimize food waste, I returned the eggplant skins to the oven: I wanted to turn the skins into chips with which I could garnish. The skins burnt quickly, and I almost choked on the shards. I skimped on the gochujang, only adding 1 tbsp to the puree. The spice level was at an appropriate level straight from the blender, but I didn’t realize that once I deglazed with pasta water, I would dilute the spice level. I didn’t salt the pasta water because I thought the sauce would be too salty. That was another mistake that diluted the dish’s flavor. (Did I not learn anything from the first part of quarantine?) The gochujang ended up more subtle rather than providing a flavor punch. I would have also liked to have a mediating texture between the al dente pasta and crispy panko and scallions--perhaps mushrooms?
Test #2 — Test #2 (or #4 if you count the PHastas) focused on bringing out more flavor from the gochujang. I doubled the amount of gochujang, and I used honey as a sweetener instead of brown sugar. I’ve always seen my grandmother reach for honey in her Korean cooking. From fried dried anchovies to jujube tea, honey seems to be her go-to sweetener. A few days later, I was watching Maangchi make yaksik, my favorite kind of tteok (rice cake), and she mentioned how Koreans believe honey to have healing powers. I did a little more research about honey in Korean cuisine. Historically, honey was prized in Korea as an ingredient for royal classes. As a result, honey has come to linguistically be used as an adjective to describe the quality of a food item, even those that do not necessarily contain or taste like honey. “Kkul” can be used as a label on quality specialty produce to sweet street food.
What I did right - In the puree, I used raw honey, which added floral notes to the dish this time. Unlike brown sugar, the raw honey partnered with the gochujang better. In the previous test, the brown sugar “melted” into the background of the sauce while in this test, the honey starred with the gochujang in the foreground.
(Does that make sense? It does in my head.)
In this test, I also introduced a new technique: double deglazing. I don’t know if this technique is my own invention or if it perhaps floated into my brain via passive consumption. (By passive consumption, I mean literally just being surrounded by cooking content all day long--scrolling instagram and twitter feeds, opening my inbox of newsletters, flipping through rented eCookbooks, etc.) But at this point, I don’t want to google “double deglazing” because I would like to claim it as my own. I first deglazed with ¼ cup Sauvignon Blanc to release more flavor and later deglazed with pasta water to provide starch to bind the pasta to the sauce.
The scallions crisped in less than 2 minutes, rounding out the dish with a little smokiness and crunch.
Needs improvement - While the honey played well with the gochujang in the foreground, the gochujang still won out. The heat was a little too overpowering, a little too forward. By strong heat, I don’t mean by the spice level, but I just mean in the overall flavor balance.
I used 6 oz of shallots (or 2 large shallots), and I burned about ⅓ of them while caramelizing. I’m too lazy to use and then clean my cast iron pan, so I blame this mostly on my scrappy nonstick that does not heat evenly.
I also added oyster mushrooms to provide a “meaty” texture, something in between the al dente pasta and crunchy panko/crispy scallions. I had never cooked with oyster mushrooms before, but I had learned (by passive consumption, of course) that they are sometimes used as a vegetarian alternative for scallops and other seafoods. After slicing, I cooked the mushrooms in the reserve scallion oil. The scallion oil infused great flavor into the mushrooms, but the shrooms were obnoxiously tough. I do digress: I did slice them quite thick, and I did not opt for a knife and fork. (It’s only chopsticks and my teeth for me.) The chew though was validated by multiple DMs responding that they had also found the texture fibrous and unpalatable.
Test #3 — Test #3 was all about finalizing little details: balancing flavors in the sauce, caramelizing shallots correctly, cooking the mushrooms correctly, trying out longer pasta shape, and increasing the pasta:sauce ratio. To start, I added more oil to fry the scallions so that I could account for the extra oil needed to saute the mushrooms and needed to reserve for the sauce. Most notably, I simplified the effort level and cut the recipe time by 20 minutes in two ways. I fried both white and green scallions at the same time. I thought the two different parts would cook at different rates, but it turns out anything skinny cooks in a minute. I started the shallots in the oven with the eggplant and finished the caramelization on the pan. This more hands-off method did not sacrifice flavor. I sliced the mushrooms thinner. In the blender, I added acid (rice wine vinegar) and more fat (sesame oil) to the puree to balance out the heat. With these additions, the puree would mimic more of a more liquidy and traditional gochujang sauce eaten with bibimbap. I felt my ancestors breathing down my neck, whispering into my ear “Sweet child, a teaspoon more, perhaps?”
What I did right: I added an additional shallot. I also added both acid and fat and increased the white wine from ¼ to ⅓ cup (~1+ tbsp). All of these changes balanced the sauce immensely. The sauce was no longer just heat. My stepdad (even in in his limited food vocabulary and little culinary expertise) was the first to point out this change from test #2 to test #3.
I increased the pasta portion to four. Increasing the pasta:sauce ratio resulted in a more even (rather than chunky) coating and four full family members! Because everyone in my family has different appetites, tastes, and diets, I’m usually a solo cook: I cook for one. So, it’s exciting when I can cook a dish that serves more than just myself. This change worked in an additional favor.
I really wanted my grandparents’ approval on this dish. I needed validation from their Korean-born palates that I did not bastardize their beloved red pepper paste. My grandfather is a man of few words, so his review was all nonverbal cues: closed eyes, nodding chin, and noodle slurps. (OK, I know that slurps are technically verbal—onomatopoeia—but you get the idea.) My grandma’s review was more bold: first evident in her mushroom heists (stealing mushrooms from everyone’s plate), second in her comparison (“better than Cheesecake Factory”...I didn’t know Cheesecake Factory was the Korean immigrant’s standard for pasta), and third in her struggling description (“[I think] this taste is [the] first time I taste, so I cannot compare [to] other food. This is the best.”)
If you decide to test this pasta, please tag me @everythingalexcooks,
(and I mean actually tag me, the new IG update doesn’t notify me when I simply get mentioned in a caption).
I want to see your creations and hear your thoughts!
Watch this space for the next two caramelized shallot and eggplant pastas! I expect them to have a much speedier development because they feature less strongly-tasting ingredients. ETA? mid-March? (or maybe i’ll save it for the zine drop…shhhh)
