Deep Fry

No, I don’t have an old Sicilian grandmother, but one of my best friends did, and this is her recipe. You will need 12 to 15 cannoli forms, metal tubes about 5 inches long, available at specialty cooking stores. Or do what I did some thirty years ago: buy 3/4-inch wooden dowels and have them cut into 5-inch lengths. If you use the wooden forms, season by frying them in the oil for a few minutes before using them.

This rich and smoky salad has become, hands down, the most popular dish on the menu at Bayona. I think it’s owing to the combination of textures and flavors, and the way they all mingle together and complement one another. There are several components to this salad, and that’s why it’s so satisfying. The good news is that many of these steps can be done in advance. The trickiest technique is cold-smoking the quail, which infuses it with natural smoky flavor without cooking it. That means when we fry the batter-dipped bird at the last minute, the result is both crispy and juicy. At the restaurant we make a stock with the smoked quail wings and use it to enrich the dressing, but this is not necessary. If pears are not in season, apples make a good substitute.

Fried wonton or gyoza wrappers, available in the frozen section of most Asian markets, make fantastic chips to scoop up savory ingredients. They are delicious served with any Asian-inspired tartare or seviche, with Asian Guacamole (p. 66), or as a garnish for just about any salad that would benefit from crunch and nutty sesame seeds.

In France, a croûte is simply a slice of bread that has been either toasted or fried. For the crispy rounds, a baguette-style bread is ideal. We like sourdough, olive bread, ciabatta, or pumpernickel, although any type of thinly sliced bread works. We cut the bread into thin rounds or triangles and brush one side with butter or olive oil, then toast them on the grill or under the broiler until lightly golden. Depending on what you’re serving them with, you can cook them like toast, so that they’re still a little tender, or until crisp all the way through. The toasted, chewy variations are best served right away, while still warm, whereas thoroughly crisp croûtes will keep for several days in an airtight container or Ziploc bag. Be sure to let them cool completely before storing or they will steam and soften when stored. If you want to get a little fancy, try mixing some chopped herbs, grated cheese, or smashed raw or roasted garlic in with the butter or oil.

I don’t think chef Donald Link knew what a sensation he was going to cause when he changed a beloved appetizer from chicken wings to frogs’ legs tossed with this irresistible herbed butter. Fines herbes is a combination of very finely chopped herbs, such as parsley, tarragon, chives, and chervil, but you can use just one or two of the herbs if you’d like. Although we use fresh Louisiana frogs’ legs whenever we can, these are awfully good even with the more readily available frozen variety. The meat is delicate and tender, and doesn’t really taste like chicken …

If you like curry and crispy fried foods, you’ll love these Indian-style turnovers. The filling can be prepared in advance and kept in the fridge until you’re ready to eat. We use wonton wrappers for the dough, so all you have to do is fill them and fry them when you’re ready.

This is a fine example of a Vietnamese hybrid dish. In many Viet cookbooks, the prescribed method for cooking potatoes is the double-fry approach (a Belgian technique introduced by the French), which yields nongreasy potatoes that are crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. Atop the perfectly fried potatoes is a mound of stir-fried beef, the juices of which penetrate the potatoes to give them great savoriness. Enjoy this East-meets-West dish as is, with a boiled green vegetable or green salad to round out the meal. Or, treat it like a stir-fry and eat it with rice (as I like to) as part of a traditional Viet meal.

Cha gio, which originated in Saigon are among Vietnam’s national dishes. They are often misleadingly translated as spring rolls, because they seem like a riff on the Chinese spring roll, or as imperial rolls, a translation of pâté imperial, their French moniker. But these rolls are not reserved for royalty, nor are they exclusively eaten during the Spring Festival (Chinese New Year). And their filling, wrapper, and accompaniments are uniquely Vietnamese. Out of culinary pride, I encourage people to call these rolls cha gio, their southern Viet name. The rolls are made in varying sizes. Cooks with great manual dexterity create thumb-sized rolls. Lacking such skill and patience, I make stubby cigar-sized ones and cut them up before serving. Larger ones also involve less labor when frying up enough for a special lunch or dinner. Some Vietnamese American cooks use Filipino lumpia or Chinese spring roll wrappers, which are made of wheat flour and fry up crisp, but an authentic flavor is lost. For the best results, use rice paper made of all rice flour or of rice and tapioca flours.

In Vietnam, the delicate anchovies (ca com) used for making fish sauce are also fried and enjoyed as a snack like a Spanish tapa or as part of a meal along with a simple soup, boiled or stir-fried vegetable, and rice. Even though these small fish are sold frozen at Viet markets, I like to use smelts, which are the perfect North American substitute. Delicate and sweet, they have soft, edible bones that allow you to “eat them like French fries,” as a fishmonger once told me. And the batter remains crispy long after the last fish is fried. Use the freshest smelts you can find or substitute other small fish available in your area, such as fresh anchovies.

Several years ago, my mom told me about one of the most memorable foods of her childhood: deep-fried birds the size of sparrows. They were prepared by itinerant Chinese cooks who would stop by her parents’ home and offer various specialties, the best of which was this crunchy delicacy, eaten bones and all. The cooks never revealed their trade secrets, but several times Mom spied them dunking the birds in boiling water before frying them. The recipe sounded so simple and delicious that I decided to try to re-create the dish using quail. This recipe is the result of my experiments. Rather than boiling the birds, I steam them, which better preserves the flavors of the marinade while gently cooking the meat. Then I coat the quail with seasonings that help to color and crisp their skin. After the coating dries, I quickly deep-fry them. The moment you bite into one of these freshly fried birds, the tangled aromas of rice wine and ginger come wafting out. Look for quail at Asian and Mexican markets, where they are often sold frozen in six-pack trays. Check carefully before you buy, avoiding packages with freezer burn.

Golden orange and crispy, this Hanoi specialty blends the fragrance and crunch of sweet potatoes with the brininess of shrimp. The fritters, which look like roughly formed nests on which whole shrimp rest, are cut into bite-sized pieces and bundled in lettuce with fresh herbs and cucumber. My mother taught me to soak the potatoes with a bit of slaked lime (calcium hydroxide), which Southeast Asian and Indian cooks use to crisp ingredients for frying and pickling. It is basically moistened food-grade slaked lime powder, the same compound used to treat corn for making Mexican masa. The Vietnamese call it voi and it is sold in small, round plastic containers in Chinese, Thai, and Viet markets, usually stocked in the flour aisle. Two varieties are available, red and white. I prefer the white one, though the red one, which has been colored by the heartwood of the cutch tree and is traditionally chewed with betel leaf, may also be used. A small container of slaked lime lasts for a long time because only a little is needed.

Viet cooks often deep-fry cubes of tofu until crisp and golden and then add them to a stir-fry or a simmering liquid (in this case, a mixture of fish sauce, water, and scallion). Fried tofu absorbs other flavors especially well, yet holds its shape and retains its faintly nutty overtones. The end result is a chewy, almost meaty quality. Look for regular or medium-firm tofu for deep-frying, never the silken type or the firm type that is best for grilling. Freshly made tofu (see opposite) will puff up during frying and then deflate as it cools; packaged tofu won’t do that and will be denser after it is out of the oil. Both will have excellent flavor. When building your menu, treat this recipe as the main savory dish and accompany it with a vegetable dish and/or meat-and-vegetable stir-fry, a simple soup, and rice.

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.

Shrimp chips, usually labeled shrimp crackers, are the Southeast Asian equivalent of the American potato chip. They are made by mixing a dough of primarily ground shrimp and tapioca starch, steaming it, slicing it, and setting the slices out in the hot sun to dry. The hard chips are then deep-fried in oil, puffing and expanding to about twice their original size. Made well, the essence of shrimp is captured in each chip. Most cooks buy the dry chips, rather than make them. The frying is fast and neither messy nor oily. Plus, the chips may be fried hours in advance, making a bowl of bánh phong tôm an easy accompaniment to cocktails. They are also used to scoop up salads, such as Cucumber and Shrimp Salad (page 46). As with all snack foods, not all shrimp chips are equal. The inexpensive colorful ones sold in boxes are pretty but not much else. Indonesian shrimp chips, called krupuk, are consistently good and packed with real shrimp flavor. Imports from Vietnam are getting steadily better. Most of them are from Sa Dec, a city known for its tasty shrimp.

When I was a child, my mom often kept me busy making wontons, putting three or four packages of the skins and a big bowl of pork-and-shrimp filling in front of me. (That’s 150 to 200 wontons!) She served the fried wontons to family and guests alike, who delighted in dipping the crispy morsels into our homemade sweet-and-sour sauce, a lighter version of the Chinese classic flavored with fish sauce instead of soy sauce.

Squash blossoms are a spring delicacy. Coated in rice batter and panfried, they become light, crisp envelopes for a savory mixture of tender shreds of pork braised in barbecue sauce and creamy ricotta cheese. The sharp bite of black pepper is mellowed with honey in a vinaigrette that brightens each sumptuous bite.

Dipping French fries in mayonnaise is a European conceit. The French and Belgians wouldn’t serve their pommes frites with anything else! If you haven’t given it a try, you should—the combination of hot, crisp, salty fries and smooth, rich mayonnaise is dangerously addictive. I dust these fries with a healthy dose of spicy black pepper before sending them out of Bar Americain’s kitchen. The familiar spice has quite a kick, the level of which you can adjust to suit your taste. The smoked red pepper mayonnaise is richly flavored with smoky chipotle in adobo and sweet roasted red pepper. The mayonnaise comes together in an instant in the food processor. Try it on your favorite sandwich, as a dip for veggies, with fish . . . all it takes is one dip and you’ll find yourself whipping it up time and time again.

I cannot begin to tell you how addictive these chips and sauce are. Homemade potato chips, crisp and hot from the fryer, dunked in a warm, creamy sauce rich with tangy blue cheese . . . you can’t go wrong. Try it for yourself and you’ll understand why diners at the restaurant have been known to call over their server and order another round—or two! I like to use an American blue cheese such as Maytag or Great Hill Farms. If you’re not up to making your own chips, store-bought ones can be warmed in a 350°F oven for 5 minutes and served with the sauce. When it comes down to it, it’s the rich blue cheese sauce that steals the show.

These are my downfall—as are french fries, sweet potato fries, or anything else that involves spuds and a deep-fat fryer. I can resist the fudgiest brownies, chewiest cookies, or even the loveliest threelayer cakes, but I cannot walk away from a single salty potato chip. I’m a believer in the golden rule of party giving: Feed your guests as you would like to be fed yourself. No wonder my cocktail parties invariably include potato chips. I often serve them with Chipotle Ketchup (page 254), but sometimes I crave them bare with just a light shower of plain or fancy salt and a large glass of good red wine.