Southeast Asian

Thai food is full of bold juxtapositions of flavor and texture. For these crystalline dumplings, the chewy skin is made from tapioca pearls (saku in Thai). The filling of pork, peanuts, shallot, palm sugar, and fish sauce is crumbly, sweet, salty, and savory. To eat, the dumplings are wrapped in lettuce leaves with fresh herbs and hot chiles. Saku sai mu is a popular street food in Thailand; here in the States, I have purchased them at Thai markets and snack shops. Making the dumplings at home ensures freshness and availability, and the ingredients can be found at most supermarkets. Hard-core cooks may handmince pork shoulder or chicken thigh and seek out cilantro root and palm sugar from Southeast Asian markets, but ground meat (avoid superlean pork or chicken), cilantro stems, and brown sugar are terrific stand-ins.

It is easy to overindulge in these chewy-soft dumplings because they slip right down your throat. Just as you are savoring the rich scallion oil, well-seasoned filling, and tangy-sweet-spicy dipping sauce, the dumpling is gone, and you must eat another. The skin of this central Vietnamese specialty is traditionally made of tapioca starch; I add a little wheat starch for firmness, lest the dough become unpleasantly rubbery. Some Viet cooks laboriously wrap each bánh bot loc in a banana leaf and steam them. I don’t have such patience and boil mine for the “naked” (tran) version. When peeling the shrimp, save the shells for a stock to use in the sauce.

Many Chiu Chow people migrated from mainland China to Southeast Asia, particularly to the Malay Peninsula. That is why you will find Chiu Chow dumplings among the hawker street food offerings in places like Penang. Along with the regular version in the preceding recipe, there is usually a vegetarian option. Chai kuih (literally “vegetable cake”) can be flavored with dried shrimp and oyster sauce, or it can be totally vegetarian. I have presented the latter, though you can certainly add the other seasonings if you wish. The mushroom soaking liquid adds savory depth to this jewel-like filling, so remember to save it after rehydrating the shiitakes.

Stuffed with intriguing spice-laden fillings, curry puffs are a very popular snack in Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand. In food-crazy Singapore, there are even plastic curry puff molds available for cooks to make perfect-looking puffs. The filling varies, but the most popular ones feature potato or sardines, both of which are lifted from their humble origins with a heavy dose of fragrant spices and/or chile heat. The dough depends on the cook, who may prepare French-style puff pastry with margarine and bake the results, stick with simple flaky pastry (page 113) to produce old-fashioned crisp fried puffs, or employ Chinese flaky pastry to yield puffs whose shape resembles magnificent clam shells. For a spectacular treat, I prepare curry puffs with Chinese flaky pastry. These deep-fried wonders are out of this world. For old-fashioned puffs, substitute either of the curry puff fillings for the one in the Vietnamese Shrimp, Pork and Jicama Turnover recipe (page 118). See the Lazy Day Tip below for making puffs with commercial puff pastry. Anyone who has made empanadas (page 111) will be a whiz at filling these.

The notion of canned sardines in pastry may seem distasteful, but millions of Southeast Asians consider karipap sardin to be delightful soul food. Any fishy intensity is mitigated by a simple combination of supporting ingredients, including ketchup, lime, and fresh chile. Chopped hard-cooked egg adds richness to this quintessential curry puff filling. For small cans of sardines (5 1/2 ounces, which is about the size of a regular can of tomato paste), head to a Chinese, Southeast Asian, or Latino market. Many Asian cooks prefer Ligo brand. Canned sardines sold at supermarkets come in larger portions, so just use part of the can. This filling is also good on toast.

Certain childhood treats stick with you, and for me these crisp turnovers are a tasty reminder of our life in Saigon. Sister Thien, our cook, and a family friend whom we called Uncle Thu, would make the dough and fill it with this delectable mixture of shrimp, pork, and jicama. Although they were hot right out of the oil, I could barely wait to dive in. My piggishness often led to a burned tongue. These are not easy to find abroad in expatriate Vietnamese enclaves, and I wasn’t able to rediscover the flavor and texture from my youth until I made them myself. For a baked version, substitute this filling for the one in the empanada recipe (page 111). Note that in the central region of Vietnam, bánh quai vac is the name of unrelated rice-or tapioca-based dumplings.

Like fried lumpia (see page 87), these savory-sweet turnovers are beloved Filipino snacks. Empanadas in the Philippines are usually deep-fried, as they are in other places, such as Argentina, where the Spanish pastry has also been adopted. Filipino-American cooks, however, mostly wrap theirs in a short pastry crust and bake them, with delicious results. If you’ve never had Asian pastries like those in this section, this is a good one to start with because it is easy to prepare and love. For richer, deep-fried empanadas, swap the filling below for the one used in the Shrimp, Pork, and Jicama Turnovers (page 118) or Curry Puffs (page 125) recipe. Feel free to substitute other ground meat for the beef.

Nowhere else in Asia has Chinese bāo been embraced and appropriated to the extent that it has been in the Philippines. An extremely popular snack, Filipino siopao tend to be large, sometimes the size of a soft ball. They are filled with all kinds of things, including slightly sweet meat and gravy mixtures (asado siopao), dense meatloaf-like concoctions (bola-bola siopao), and even balut, the beloved partially incubated duck egg. Quite oft en in Filipino meat-filled buns, there’s a wedge of boiled egg inside, which is why I’ve included it in this chicken rendition for a mother-and-child reunion of sorts. Siopao dough can be made from rice flour, which results in superwhite buns, but I prefer wheat-flour buns because they have a chewier texture and more flavor.

Cantonese cooks have been creating curried bāo fillings for years, but for buns with both a Southeast Asian and an Indian edge, stuff them with this curried chicken filling that contains plenty of spice and a touch of coconut-milk richness. The ingredient list looks daunting only because of the number of spices, a combination that yields aromatic, flavorful results. If you have a good curry powder, such as Sun Brand, feel free to substitute 1 tablespoon for the spices below; decrease the amount of salt if the curry powder contains salt already. Or skip the toasting and grinding and substitute equal amounts of ground spices for the whole ones, using two pinches of black pepper for the peppercorns. The flavors will still be good.

Many Asian cooks have incorporated Chinese spring rolls into their repertoires, but those of Filipino descent have embraced the rolls with the most zeal and flair. Derived from lūnpiá, a term from the Fujian (Hokkien) Chinese dialect, lumpia are one of the quintessential foods of the Philippines. In fact, I’ve seldom been to a Filipino celebration where there isn’t a platter of crisp lumpia, whether it be large ones like these or the diminutive finger-size lumpia Shanghai, which is obviously named after its Chinese parent. Banana-filled lumpia is a deliciously popular sweet snack called turon (page 194). Unfried lumpia sariwa are made by rolling up a lettuce leaf and filling of vegetables and meat in a spring roll skin. Fillings for fried lumpia vary from cook to cook, but they often have trademark Filipino touches, such as lots of fried garlic and onion. Simply seasoned, the meat (pork, chicken, or beef), shrimp, and vegetable mixture is precooked but not bound by cornstarch. Thinly sliced green beans are particularly pretty in the rolls and a touch of patis (fish sauce) adds another Filipino note. Vinegar is a favorite seasoning in the Philippines, so it’s apropos to dip the finished rolls in a tangy soy and garlic sauce. But if you’d like extra tropical flair, dunk the rolls in the Sweet and Sour Sauce on page 217 made with pineapple juice, ginger, and chile.

Nepalese cooking combines Indian and Tibetan cuisines, and these classic dumplings illuminate that wonderful marriage. In this filling, Indian garam masala is combined with Sichuan peppercorn, an important spice in Nepal and Tibet. Nepalese momos often feature water buffalo, but lamb pairs exceptionally well with the aromatics. You can opt to substitute ground beef, pork, or dark-meat chicken or turkey. Regardless of the meat, these dumplings are like their Tibetan brethren (page 57), full of flavor and delectable juices. If there are left overs, panfry or deep-fry them the next day. Note that these dumplings are eaten with fork and spoon. Chopsticks are the standard and prevailing utensils in only four Asian nations—China, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam.

This dough is the foundation of many excellent dumplings, including Chinese jiâozi, Korean mandu, and Nepali momo. The process of making the dough is easy to master, especially with a little help from modern tools such as a food processor (though you can mix the dough by hand). Asian wheat flour wrappers may be made with cold or hot water—the temperature is traditionally dictated by the cooking method. Boiled dumplings are said to require thicker skins made from cold-water dough in order to withstand the pressures of boiling, whereas pan fried and steamed dumplings require thinner skins made from hot-water dough for their gentler cooking processes. Over the years, I’ve found that homemade wrappers of medium thickness, a scant 1/8 inch thick in the center and about 1/16 inch thick at the rim, work well for all cooking methods. If dumplings are gently boiled as described for shuijiao on page 31, there is no need for thicker rappers. Producing medium-thick wrappers is easier with hot-water dough as it is more yielding than its cold-water counterpart. The resulting wrappers taste superior to store-bought ones, and they need no water to seal. Grocery store all-purpose flour with a moderate amount of gluten, such as Gold Medal brand, works exceptionally well.

My first introduction to Thai curries came while I assisted a friend in preparing a luncheon for Nancy Reagan at the Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley, California. What a surprise: the curry sauce was red! Although Thai curries have many ingredients in common with those of neighboring India, they tend to be tinged with a hint of sweetness from the combination of coconut milk and a traditional dash of sugar, and they are often colored red or green by the red or green chiles in them, rather than the more familiar yellow color of Indian curries. As with most Thai curries, serve this over rice.

My dear friend Martha Deaton was raised in Malaysia, where she and her sisters learned to cook traditional Malaysian dishes from their mother. Martha’s sister, Margaret Hughes, has built a thriving London catering business based on the dishes of her homeland. The following is one of her most popular recipes. Although this dish, like so many Asian dishes, is traditionally prepared on top of the stove, I think it works well in the slow cooker. See what you think. Serve it hot, on a bed of steamed rice.

Thai curries differ from northern Indian curries in that they add some typically Thai ingredients, such as dried red chiles, onion, garlic, coconut milk, galangal, lemon grass, and kaffir lime, to the warm Indian spice blends. They are categorized as red, yellow, or green based on the kind of chile or ingredients used in them (but not necessarily by the color of the finished product), and they have an element of sweetness to them that is lacking in some Indian curries. They can be made from scratch, but most Thai home cooks today rely on either commercially prepared pastes or pastes prepared by a vendor down the street. Many supermarkets in the United States carry Thai curry pastes. And if you really want to save time, you can purchase a jar or two of Thai Red Curry Simmer Sauce (Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s are two good bets) and save yourself the trouble of doing any mixing at all! Most Thai curries, including this one, should be served with steamed rice.

I can’t begin to quantify the sheer number of new ingredients and splendidly unexpected flavors that my friends in the Nguyen family introduced me to many years ago, but it is their barbecues that really hold a special place in my heart. Besides falling in love with the delicate, fragrant aroma of lemongrass, I couldn’t help but feel welcomed by their astounding hospitality

This popular Thai soup, known in its native tongue as tom kha gai, uses some choice ingredients that may be a little difficult to find, but I’ve listed substitutes for them in case there isn’t a specialty Asian market in your neck of the woods.

What’s the first thing you think of when somebody says, “Let’s get Thai food”? Most of my friends have an involuntary response: they start to sweat. Many people think that Thai food is hot, hot, hot. Well, maybe not, not, not. True, some Thai food can set off smoke detectors. But real Thai cooking emphasizes distinctive flavor combinations regardless of the heat. This soup, a takeoff on traditional Thai tom kha gai (a chicken soup), uses coconut milk, which is very soothing to the nerves. The ginger aids digestion, while the lime brightens up the overall flavor. The result is a soup guaranteed to jump-start even the most jaded taste buds.

Think of this no-cook soup as a Thai-flavored gazpacho. It’s best with really lush summer tomatoes. Serve with a cold noodle dish for a quick summer meal.

As in many Asian-style soups, this ingredient list may look long, but it’s a snap to prepare. Adding any of the optional ingredients gives this soup a deeper and more authentic flavor.