Side

Okay, I like tabouleh, but obviously not as much as the people in a town in the Metn district of Lebanon. They are listed in the Guinness World Records for making the world’s largest bowl of tabouleh. It weighed in at a hefty 1,514 kilograms. That’s 3,338 pounds of tabouleh. Where do you suppose they got a bowl that big?

This is a great dish for a hot summer day when you need something light. The fresh green beans and grape tomatoes make for a delicious salad that’s nice for picnics, or to take along on a day when you don’t have time to stop at home for lunch.

Quin-what?! Okay, so maybe you haven’t ever heard of quinoa (pronounced “KEEN-wa”), but this “wonder grain” (actually a seed) is deliciously nutty and chewy and exceptionally nutritious. This salad makes a great meal, and you can take any leftovers for lunch. What I like the best is that it’s a nice alternative to the standard pasta salad.

We use dried herbs as much as possible because it’s easier to have them on hand and they’re cheaper. But this is one of the cases where dried herbs just won’t work. Not that the other ingredients in this salad aren’t good, but the fresh tarragon, which has a light licorice flavor, makes this dish what it is. Don’t even bother making it with dried tarragon.

This is called a casserole because when my grandmother makes it she sautés the vegetables, then puts them in a casserole dish and bakes them with the cheese on top. You can do that if you want, but I say why bother? It’s faster and easier to cook it all in one pan, and it tastes exactly the same. As for the breadcrumbs, any kind works, so we usually go with plain.

Eating this crab is somewhat akin to eating a pile of barbecued ribs. Coated with a garlicky-sweet-spicy sauce, the crab requires a little work to get at all the delicious bits (and perhaps a cold beer to wash things down), but your effort pays off. Vietnamese cooks traditionally cut up live crabs before stir-frying them. That is a run-of-the-mill task for fearless types like my mom. Most cooks, however, wince at the thought of chopping up a live crustacean, especially one with large claws. To avoid getting pinched, I briefly boil the crab, which also sets the meat and tomalley, making the crab easy to take apart. Since freshness is crucial, use whatever kind of live crab is available in your area, the feistier the better for optimal flavor. Asian markets are typically reliable sources. In Northern California, I’m blessed with the large Dungeness crab. Outfit the table with metal nutcrackers, communal bowls for holding shells, and a finger bowl for each person.

This Vietnamese version of Chinese salt-and-pepper shrimp is bursting with bold flavors, and the high-heat searing seals in the juices. Use shrimp in their shells for the extra crunch and smokiness they develop during searing. Ideally their heads will be intact, too, as the juices trapped in the heads add to the richness of the finished dish. Purchase white shrimp with edible thin shells for this recipe; they are usually available at Asian and Latin markets.

One of the distinctive aspects of eating Vietnamese food is the large plate of lettuce and herbs that accompanies many grilled and fried dishes. For example, Sizzling Crepes (page 274) would be incomplete without the texture, flavor, and color of the lettuce, herbs, and cucumber that arrive with them. It is this final layering of cooked and raw ingredients that contributes to the uniqueness of Vietnamese food. Select lettuces with pliable leaves. Butter, red or green leaf, or soft varieties of romaine are ideal. Baby lettuces make a beautiful presentation and usually don’t need to be torn into smaller pieces. Always avoid crisp lettuces and those without broad leaves, such as oak leaf. They don’t wrap well. This plate can accompany any Vietnamese dish that is typically eaten with vegetable and herb garnishes. In the case of the herbs, a minimum of cilantro and mint must be included. Some foods taste particularly good with certain herbs, however, so specific recipes may suggest including red perilla, Vietnamese balm, fish mint, or sorrel. For details on these herbs, see page 17.

Shaped like half-moons, the plain buns are used like rolls: they are split open, a morsel of roast pork, duck, or char siu (barbecued pork) is tucked inside, and if there is a sauce, a little is drizzled over the meat. The resulting tiny sandwich is a great hors d’oeuvre or starter course. Steamed buns made from scratch take time. It is worth the effort to make your own dough for filled buns, but when you want the buns only as a small side dish, a shortcut may be in order.

Rice is king in the Vietnamese kitchen, but wheat also plays a role in foods such as these steamed buns. A classic Viet riff on Chinese bao, the buns encase a hearty vegetable-and-meat mixture, with a creamy wedge of hard-boiled egg in the center. Traditional bao are made from a yeast-leavened dough, but many Vietnamese Americans leaven the dough with baking powder. This New World innovation is faster and the dough is easier to manipulate. The buns are also more stable in the steamer than the yeasted version, which can sometimes deflate during cooking. Viet delis sell soft ball-sized bánh bao, but I prefer more manageable baseball-sized ones. I use bleached all-purpose flour, which yields slightly lighter-colored buns than unbleached flour. Like all bao, these buns are great for breakfast, lunch, or a snack. They will keep in the refrigerator (stored in an airtight container) for a few days and are easily reheated, making them a great homemade fast food. For additional flavor, serve them with a simple dipping sauce of soy sauce and freshly cracked black pepper.

Here , simple dough made of glutinous rice flour, water, and salt is shaped into small, round disks and steamed on banana leaf circles, which impart fragrance and prevent sticking. The result is bánh day, eggshell-white cakes that are eaten in pairs with slices of Viet sausage slipped between them. The cakes are sweet and chewy, while the sausage provides a savory counterpoint. If you don’t have time to make the sausage at home, pick some up at a Viet market or deli.

When Vietnamese cooks stuff fowl for roasting, the dressing is often made with sticky rice. These preparations, which bridge Vietnamese and French culinary traditions, commonly include lotus seeds, too. My family prefers the flavor of chestnuts, however, which we simmer in chicken stock, butter, and cilantro. The presence of shiitake mushrooms and Cognac in this recipe illustrates yet another marriage of East and West. This dressing is good with roast turkey, chicken, game hens, and goose. While you may stuff the birds, I find baking the dressing separately is easier, plus the grains on the bottom form a tasty crust. Shelling and peeling chestnuts is time-consuming, but this recipe doesn’t require many of them. For guidance on buying and peeling the nuts, see the accompanying Note.

Imagine my mom’s delight when she first spotted canned hominy at American markets (and later, hulled mung beans). Gone were the days when she had to soak and treat dried corn kernels with slaked lime before cooking them to prepare this treat. She also had to soak and skin unhulled mung beans before she could steam and grind them. By the time this dish appeared at the table, nearly two days had passed. But it was all worth it: the rice and hominy formed a chewy, soft base for the buttery yellow mung beans, toasted sesame seeds, and fried shallots. Serve this sticky rice dish alone or with slices of Viet sausages or roasted chicken, duck, or pork.

A Batch of Rice in which the grains remain distinct is called com roi (separated rice), while rice that has been compacted by hand into dense balls or logs is called com nam (pressed rice). Like Japanese onigiri (rice balls), com nam is both shaped and eaten by hand. You simply pick up a piece, press it against a boldly flavored food like Caramelized Minced Pork (page 131), Cotton Pork (page 134), or sesame salt (see Note), and pop the morsel into your mouth. For many Vietnamese of my parents’ generation, com nam is an old-fashioned food that conjures up memories of home, perhaps because it was a creative way for moms to get their kids to eat more rice, the main source of sustenance. As a reminder of such times, my dad regularly prepared com nam and then presliced it for family road trips, picnics, and whenever we wanted a fun alternative to eating rice from a bowl.

A specialty of Central Vietnam, these preserved vegetables pack plenty of punch in each garlicky, savory, sweet, and crunchy morsel. Served as a small side dish, they are a flavorful addition to any meal and even make a bowl of plain rice satisfying. Traditionally, the vegetables are cut into thick, stubby sticks, salted, and then partially dried outdoors on bamboo trays before they are left to sit in a mixture of fish sauce, sugar, and garlic. Here in the States, the oven speeds up the process considerably. I use small young daikons and large carrots and cut them into rounds instead of sticks.

Introduced to Vietnam by the French as salade russe, this salad is a fine example of how Viet cooking blurs culinary and cultural traditions. Home cooks incorporated it into their repertoire, and I grew up treating it as any other Viet vegetable dish. During the summer, my mother served it with roasted chicken that had been marinated in garlic and Maggi Seasoning sauce. While there are many versions of this salad, I prefer combining the three root vegetables with chopped egg and a creamy herb vinaigrette. Use red beets for a beautiful magenta salad, pink or golden beets for a jewel-toned salad. For an interesting barbecue menu, serve the salad with Grilled Lemongrass Pork Riblets (page 145), Grilled Corn with Scallion Oil (page 183), and a lightly dressed green salad.

In Vietnam, small clay charcoal-fired braziers are used to cook dishes like this smoky eggplant topped with scallion and served with a garlic-chile dipping sauce. Here in the States, I often make this dish in the summer when the farmers’ market is brimming with an incredible array of eggplants. (The vegetable is at its sweetest in August and September.) You can cook the eggplant over a gas burner, or even bake it, but you’ll have the best results on a grill. Small globe eggplants, meaty Italian eggplants, and slender Japanese eggplants all work well for this recipe.

People often ask me what I remember about my life in Vietnam. I always respond that my memory is filled with photographic images of people and places, but because I was only six years old when we fled, I had not yet experienced enough of life to have fuller pictures. However, one of my most vivid memories is of our cook, Older Sister Thien, squatting and fanning the small charcoal brazier on which she grilled corn on the cob. As the corn cooked to a charred chewy sweetness, she brushed on scallion oil made with home-rendered lard. The aroma and taste were heavenly. Here is my updated version with regular cooking oil. With so many varieties of corn available in summertime, you should have no trouble finding the sweetest one for grilling. This is traditionally a snack food, but it is also a wonderful addition to an Eastern or Western barbecue. Parboiling the ears before grilling ensures that the corn is evenly cooked and the grill work is fast.

Asparagus is often thought as a vegetable that requires delicate seasoning, but this hearty stir-fry proves that notion wrong. The sweet, heady sauce is essentially the same sauce called for in Water Spinach Stir-Fried with Garlic (page 179), but the addition of meaty shiitake mushrooms produces a more robust dish. Prepare this easy stir-fry during springtime when asparagus is at the height of its season, or substitute 1 1/4 pounds green beans or long beans other times of the year. Be sure to use high-quality dried mushrooms, and don’t skimp on the soaking time, or they won’t develop their naturally full flavor or velvety texture.

Eggplants are prepared in many ways by Viet cooks, but my two favorites are deep-fried, as in this recipe, and grilled or roasted until smoky and soft , as in Grilled Eggplant with Seared Scallion (page 184). Here, I coat thickish eggplant slices with a thin batter, which yields deep-fried pieces with a moist interior and a delicate crust that remains crisp well after frying. For the best results, use slender, firm, blemish-free Chinese, Italian, or Japanese eggplants. They have an appealing meatiness and fry better than large globe eggplants.