Korean Braised Short Ribs Are the Greatest Recipe of All Time

Associate editor Christina Chaey finally learns the secret to the braised short ribs her grandma only makes her once a year.
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Alex Lau

You know those recipes we hold near and dear to our hearts because they really are the greatest of all time? Well, our Greatest Recipe of All Time series is where we wax poetic about them. Today, assistant web editor Christina Chaey shares her grandmother's recipe for Korean braised short ribs, or galbi jjim.

My Grandma Ham (yes, Ham) makes me these Korean braised short ribs, or galbi jjim, exactly once a year on my birthday. She always outdoes herself for the occasion—there is also jap chae (stir-fried sweet potato noodles with beef and vegetables); miyeokguk, a nourishing seaweed soup traditionally eaten on birthdays; and some kind of pajeon, or scallion pancake.

But galbi jjim has always been the crown jewel of this once-yearly meal. It's a beautiful example of the economy of traditional Korean cooking, which relies on endless combinations of the same 5 to 10 pantry staples to create dozens of different dishes. Besides the short ribs and the veg, any Korean food-loving cook will already have most of these ingredients in the pantry: soy sauce, mirin, garlic, brown sugar.

Last summer, my grandma and I waded through bits of broken Korean (me) and English (her) to cobble together what I think is a pretty faithful re-creation of her recipe. I say "pretty faithful" because I'm fairly certain this is the first time she's ever shared this recipe with another human, as she is the special kind of controlling grandma who will ban everyone away from the kitchen while she's at work, then grumble about how no one is helping her. I should mention: This isn't your typical braise. You don't brown the meat before it slow-cooks in liquid. The veg are kind of cooked to death. And I wouldn't change a thing. This recipe is meant to feed a crowd (6 to 8), but you can easily halve it.

Start with 8 pounds of trimmed short ribs. Soak them (yes, soak them—it drains the ribs of excess blood) in a very large bowl of cold water for two hours, changing the water after the first hour. Drain the ribs and put them in a large pot or Dutch oven, cover with water, and bring to a boil. Boil ribs for five minutes, skimming off any residue, then drain and rinse in cold water. If you want to feel smart, wash the pot you just used to boil the ribs; you'll braise the meat in it soon.

In a food processor, pulse one small sweet onion, half of a kiwi, and half of a peeled and cored Asian pear until puréed. Scrape the mixture into a bowl and stir in ⅓ cup mirin. Place the clean short ribs in the pot you just washed and spoon the onion/kiwi/pear mixture over the meat. Cook over low heat for 15 to 30 minutes.

While the meat is cooking, roughly cut two medium carrots and a large daikon radish into 2" chunks. Set aside. In a medium bowl, combine 1½ cups of soy sauce, two tablespoons of minced garlic, and ½ cup of brown sugar.

Add the soy sauce mixture and four cups of water to the pot, give everything a good stir, then cover and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to low and simmer for 30 to 45 minutes. Add the chopped carrots and daikon, stir and cover again, and cook for another 30 minutes until vegetables and meat are cooked through and you can easily pierce through them with a fork.

Serve with steamed rice and kimchi—I love a crunchy daikon kimchi. Like any good braise, this one only gets better with time.