Sweet Soy Butter Korean Rice Cakes

I believe snacks can fix existential dread. Also I believe butter solves cultural appropriation debates if used respectfully? Anyway, I made a tiny thing that felt like a hug: Sweet Soy Butter Korean Rice Cakes — yes, that’s a mouthful and yes, you’re going to lick the pan. If you, like me, have ever chosen pancakes over therapy (sweet cream pancakes are a mood), this is the chewy, shiny cousin who shows up late to brunch and actually has it together.

How I absolutely botched it the first time (and smelled it forever)

I can describe failure in three sensory details: a rubbery chew, a pan-singeing smell that clung to my sweater for two days, and the sad little POP when a rice cake split because I over-seared it (I know, amateur hour). I once tried to speed-run this at midnight, frying straight from frozen because genius, and ended up with a sweet-smoky glue that refused to be rescued. There was a moment—around the third crunch—when I considered calling the fire department because nothing in my kitchen looked like dinner anymore. Embarrassing? Yes. Funny? Also yes. Did I tell anyone? Of course I sent a grainy photo to my group chat (they didn’t help). The memory smells like browned butter and defeat.

Why this version finally behaves (mostly)

It works now because I stopped being dramatic and started being patient. Also because I stopped panicking and read two blogs, five comments, and one pop-up about soaking rice cakes. Emotionally, I surrendered. Practically, I soaked (20–30 minutes), dried, and gave them space in the pan. The butter-honey-soy combo becomes this glossy, slightly salty-sweet jacket that begs you to eat more than your dignity allows. I still worry (old habits), but I’m confident enough to serve it to an actual person now. I even made it between shifts once, humming like a guilty saint. And yes, sometimes I pair it with dinner-y things (weirdly good with tangy chicken — I blame pineapples and a recipe I made before), like in that experiment where I riffed on pineapple chicken and rice. Would I recommend it for every weeknight? Maybe. Would I also panic and then eat the leftovers cold at 2 a.m.? Also yes.

Ingredients

• 1 pound Korean rice cakes
• 1 tablespoon neutral oil
• ¼ cup butter
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 2 tablespoons brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons soy sauce
• If you’re stretching a budget, double the rice cakes and halve your dignity; if texture is your religion, don’t skimp on soaking; if your store is scary, frozen packs are fine (but plan ahead)

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Quick conversions for when your brain is asleep but your stomach is awake.

Cooking Process

• If using frozen or refrigerated rice cakes, soak in water for 20–30 minutes. Pat dry.
• Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add rice cakes and sear undisturbed for 2 minutes until golden. Flip and cook another 3 minutes. Remove to a plate.
• Reduce heat to medium. Add butter, honey, brown sugar, and soy sauce. Stir until smooth and bubbly.
• Return rice cakes to the pan and toss to coat in the glaze. Cook 1–2 more minutes. Serve hot.
  Also: don’t be a robot—watch the pan (I know, metaphors). If the sugar goes from bubbly to angry in 30 seconds, reduce the heat. Also shout encouragement at the rice cakes if that helps (it does). IMPORTANT: they should be glossy, not gluey. Taste—adjust salt or honey like you’re making a tiny life decision. Also eat one before plating. For quality control. Obviously.

Okay, do you also do this at 11 p.m.? Tell me everything

Do you ever notice how snacks become emotional anchors? Were you the kid who traded lunchables or the one who hoarded gummy bears? (No judgment—my pantry is a crime scene.) If you make this, will you send me a pic that makes me jealous? Will you pretend you’re an upscale street vendor and set a tiny napkin under each piece? Do you put sesame seeds on top like a civilized person or like someone who’s trying too hard? I will assume you have small betrayals in your fridge at all times and that this will fix one of them.

FAQ: Stop overthinking and just cook questions

I keep thinking about how small rituals (soaking, searing, stirring) make me feel like I’m doing something right in the world. It’s dramatic but also practical. And sometimes a glossy, buttery rice cake is the only apology you need to offer yourself after a long week. I was going to tell you a deep life secret here but someone just messaged me a dog video and—

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