Galchi-jjigae (Hairtail Stew)

At the fish market, galchi tells you the truth before the seller does. The skin should be bright silver, the eyes clear, and the cut flesh firm enough to hold its line. If it smells strong before it reaches the pot, don't buy it for jjigae. Older fish belongs nowhere in this stew, because it breaks apart and gives the broth a tired taste. Cook the month you're standing in, and for galchi that means late summer into autumn, when the southern waters give it generously.

This is not a stew to stir. That is the first thing to learn. Radish goes underneath because it needs time and because it keeps the fish off the bottom of the pot. The seasoning is spooned in and the broth is ladled over the fish, not mixed with a heavy hand. Galchi has soft flesh and a long, flat bone; treat it roughly and you'll serve fragments instead of pieces.

My teacher Master Seong-nyeo used to say that fish stew shows a cook's patience faster than beef soup. Beef forgives you. Fish does not. Measure the gochugaru (Korean chili flakes), measure the soy sauce, and stop before the broth turns muddy. The point is not to make the loudest red pot. The point is silver fish, sweet radish, soft squash, and enough heat to carry the rice. Let it taste like itself.