Spicy Fish StewMaeuntang

Every coastal city in Korea has its own version of maeuntang. In Busan, where my father grew up, it was made with whatever the day's catch produced — sometimes red snapper, sometimes croaker, sometimes small rockfish. The broth was always deep orange-red from gochugaru, and the doenjang added an earthy fermented undercurrent that lifted the whole thing.

The key technique I had to learn was handling the fish gently. My first attempt — I stirred the pot after adding the cod fillets. Within two minutes the fish had broken into fragments. The resulting broth was actually quite good, but visually it looked like fish porridge. The recipe tip says to add the fish gently and simmer without stirring, and that's exactly right. The fillets hold together when left alone. Use a wide spoon to check doneness by gently pressing the surface rather than poking.

I made maeuntang on a cold, rainy night in London while working remotely from a rented flat in Brixton. The anchovy stock I'd made by simmering dried anchovies and dried kelp for twenty minutes beforehand. It filled the kitchen with a smell that was very Korean and very far from London.

A neighbor named Abiodun — a software engineer originally from Lagos — smelled it in the hallway and knocked to ask if there was a leak or something burning. When I explained what I was cooking, he asked to see it. He watched me add the fish and the doenjang, asked questions about each ingredient, and ended up staying for dinner.

He said the fermented paste — the doenjang — was what made it interesting. Not just spicy, but with a depth underneath. He was right. That's what distinguishes maeuntang from other spicy fish soups.