Korean BBQ Beef (Bulgogi)

I will hill-scream to anyone who asks: bulgogi is the kind of dish that should get its own parade — with confetti, a brass band, and maybe a Trader Joe’s float. Truly, if Thanksgiving had a Korean cousin, this would be it. (Also, yes, I once tried to brine a turkey with kimchi juice — do not ask — we lost three neighbors that year.)

How I Turned a Holiday Dinner into a Fire Drill (and Ate My Feelings)

Once, during a Thanksgiving that I still label “The One with the Smoke Alarm Symphony,” I tried to impress my in-laws by substituting the turkey with a DIY Korean spread. The bulgogi was supposed to be the crown jewel. Instead it was the greased lightning of culinary mistakes: I marinated the meat overnight, forgot to salt the rice, and then — picture this — I dropped the whole pan trying to rescue a rolling bowl of kimchi. Chaos. Tears. Laughter. (Mostly my humiliation.)

My grandma — bless her — performed an emergency mending of social grace with a jar of instant stuffing and an earnest compliment about “that interesting beef.” I learned two things: 1) always have a Plan B carb, and 2) the right marinade forgives a million sins. Also, if you want authentic Korean breakfast vibes someday, start small — but don’t miss out on how these flavors can make a holiday feel new: Korean breakfast traditions are a whole mood.

Okay, Back to Beef Before I Spiral Into Sentimental Condiments

ANYWAY, before I emotionally relive the entire event and cry into a jar of gochujang (which, fun fact, I then spilled on my wedding dress — drama), let’s talk about the recipe that actually redeems me: Korean BBQ Beef, aka bulgogi. It’s quick, it’s sweet-salty, and it can turn your weeknight into something cinematic. Two-word summary: very necessary.

What You Need (and My Shopping Confessions)

• 1 lb beef (thinly sliced, ribeye or sirloin)
• 1/4 cup soy sauce
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 tablespoon sesame oil
• 2 cloves garlic (minced)
• 1 tablespoon ginger (grated)
• 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
• 1/4 cup green onions (chopped)
• 1 tablespoon sesame seeds
• Cooked rice (for serving)
• Kimchi (for serving)

Also: don’t overthink the beef — sirloin is a perfectly respectable life choice, ribeye is indulgent flirting, and if you’re doing something like boneless short ribs for a fancier night, I get it (and I legit bookmarked a recipe for that very vibe): boneless beef short ribs tips. Trader Joe’s thin-sliced beef is a weekday hero; if you’re balling on a budget, Aldi has decent steals. Pro tip: buy the scallions like you’re emotionally investing in garnish.

Technique That Sounds Fancy But Is Just Me Learning Things (Also a Real Steps List)

I will ramble because that’s my cardio: marinade is where the magic loungers. Let it chill — even a short soak makes the beef sing. High heat equals sear happiness; do not crowd the pan unless you want your meat to steam and sulk. Use your spatula like a conductor’s baton. Taste, adjust, and don’t be ashamed to add another splash of soy or a pinch more sugar if your soul (or your tastebuds) requests it.

1. In a bowl, mix soy sauce, sugar, sesame oil, garlic, ginger, rice vinegar, and half of the green onions.
2. Add the sliced beef to the marinade and let it soak for at least 30 minutes.
3. Heat a grill or skillet over medium-high heat.
4. Cook the marinated beef for 3-5 minutes, or until fully cooked, stirring occasionally.
5. Serve the beef over cooked rice and garnish with remaining green onions and sesame seeds.
6. Add kimchi on the side.

Also, if you want that smoky, almost-BBQ vibe without building a backyard bonfire, reading up on ribs techniques (yes, really) gives you ideas for char and patience: beef back ribs flavor tricks.

Why This Matters More Than It Should to a Weird Person Like Me

Cooking for me is time travel. The chop of garlic whacks me back to an apartment where my roommate and I ate ramen and argued about whether Friends was actually funny. The sesame oil is like a scent-summons to my Midwest mother’s slow, tender weekends. Food is how I translate love, grief, and pure, unhinged joy into something shareable. Bulgogi is the dish that has patched breakups, celebrated promotions, and made me forgive my own kitchen disasters.

A Tiny, True Story That Will Make You Snort-Laugh

I once proudly announced I’d “mastered bulgogi” to my neighbor through the fence, who then asked if I could babysit his succulents. I said yes, came over with leftovers, and found out the succulents had more personality than me. We bonded over soy sauce stains.

Ask Me Anything (I Will Reply Like I Forgot the Question Mid-Sentence)

Okay, okay, I’ll stop narrating my life like it’s a dramedy. Make the bulgogi, invite people over (or don’t — eat it alone and be happy), and remember: a good marinade can fix a lot, but maybe not the time I tried to brine a turkey with kimchi juice. (We do not speak of 2019.) Also — go make rice. You need rice. Hunger is an emergency.

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator: Quick estimate for your bulgogi feast

Use this to ballpark how your portion fits into your day.