"One spicy seafood jjamppong stew!"

"Okay!"

Whoooooooosh.

The high-powered gas flame, the kind Chinese restaurants use, roared up hard.

Tssssss.

Onion, scallion, garlic and carrot went into the hot pan first.

Chaaaaaa.

A splash of oil swirled around the wok.

With Chinese food, the smoky fire flavor is everything.

In seconds the vegetables were coated in it.

Chwa-chwa-chwa-chwak.

Red flakes of the fieriest Korean chili rained down on top.

The color they took on in the oil was killer.

For the heat, I threw in five Vietnamese chilies, too.

Clams went in by the handful.

Then I ladled in the clam broth, the heart of a seafood jjamppong stew.

For a clean, bracing flavor, I'd made the stock from pollack heads and dried herring, with radish and onion.

The broth is where a dish wins or loses.

Even now, two big stockpots were steaming away off to one side.

I poured a generous amount of the clam broth over the sizzling vegetables.

In no time it was bubbling up.

Whoooosh.

The wild flame lunged at the wok as if to swallow it.

Clatter, clatter.

I flicked everything around fast with a Chinese ladle so nothing burned.

The clams popped open.

Octopus, shrimp, baby octopus, and last of all a squirming giant octopus went in.

The fresh seafood blushed red in the high heat.

Tak!

I tipped the stew into a big pot.

"One spicy seafood jjamppong stew, up!"

It had taken exactly four minutes.

A Chinese-restaurant head chef couldn't hold a candle to it.

The smoky fire flavor had worked its way in, and the seafood jjamppong stew came out rich and savory.

A perfect collab between seafood stew and jjamppong broth.

Take it to the table as is and bring it to a boil on the camp burner. It's an unbeatable drinking snack that has you reaching for the bottle.

My mouth watered.

Food made from the best ingredients always pleases the eye and the tongue.

On top of that, I'd put my energy into it—one bite and they'd be in for an amazing experience.

A recipe nobody but…