Chicken Thigh

This is a classic northern interpretation of kho, homey simmered dishes that are part of everyday Viet meals. It reflects the simple art of Vietnamese cooking, requiring just a few ingredients yet yielding a savory result. The chicken releases its juices during cooking, which add to the overall flavor of the bittersweet caramel sauce, a Vietnamese staple. The ginger softens, mellows, and blends with the other ingredients as it cooks, but it still delivers a mild sharpness to the finished dish. Traditionally, this kho calls for cutting bone-in, skin-on chicken into chunks. However, for the sake of ease and health, I, like many other Vietnamese Americans, now use boneless, skinless chicken thighs. Serve with lots of rice to sop up the sauce.

My parents had told me so many times about how good chicken was in Vietnam that I couldn’t wait to taste it for myself when I returned with my husband in January 2003. Our first day was in Hanoi, and after checking into the hotel, we set out into the streets looking for lunch. At a small, arty café, we ordered ga nuong, expecting something akin to ga ro-ti (opposite). Instead, the hipster waitress returned with plates of sliced grilled chicken thigh, rice, and the ingredients—salt, white pepper, lime, chile—for mixing up a dipping sauce. We took a few bites and then practically inhaled the rest, not because we were famished but because the dish was so unbelievably good. The toothsome meat and crispy skin were wonderful dipped in the tart-and-hot sauce. Nowadays, whenever I make this dish for an easy dinner, I am reminded of that memorable lunch.

Deeply seasoned and studded with chicken and colorful vegetables, this special-occasion rice is traditionally cooked in a clay pot and presented at the table in the cooking vessel. Many Vietnamese American cooks, my mother included, switched to preparing this dish in large, heavy Western pots, such as Dutch ovens, which conduct heat well and don’t break like clay pots sometimes do. Their easier and more convenient approach doesn’t compromise flavor, and sometimes a wonderful golden crust forms at the bottom. However, if you would like to cook the rice in a clay pot, see the Note following the method. For this recipe, you want to use long-grain rice that will cook up to a chewy firmness. If you happen to have new-crop rice, which tends to cook up more sticky than firm, reduce the quantity of stock slightly, or purchase regular long-grain rice.

Opo squash, a popular light green–skinned Asian gourd, shows off its delicate sweetness in this quick soup, which blends the opo with chicken or pork to yield a rich flavor that tastes like the broth simmered for hours. Look for opo squash at Asian or farmers’ markets, selecting specimens that are blemish free and feel heavy for their size. When you gently squeeze the squash, it shouldn’t yield to its spongy core, a sign of overmaturity. If an opo squash is unavailable, zucchini may be substituted. The flavor will be milder but still tasty.

I confess I’m not a big fan of boneless, skinless chicken breasts, which I find tasteless enough to be considered the tofu of meats (no offense, tofu lovers). Instead, for most purposes I almost always go for the thighs, with the bone in for more flavor and quicker, more even cooking. I like to leave the skin on, too; however, in a quick braise like this one, it can get too rubbery. This is a very stripped-down take on traditional Moorish flavor combinations; eat it with white or brown rice or farro (see page 143), which will soak up the complex sauce wonderfully.

Ajvar is a red pepper spread found in some European and Middle Eastern grocery stores.

To balance the sweetness of leeks, we can use a little white wine vinegar, especially tarragon, or lemon juice. The addition of either removes any risk of the dish cloying. The recipe that follows is one of my all-time favorites for a good, easy midweek supper. What especially appeals is that although the sauce tastes rich and almost creamy, it has no butter or cream in it at all.

America’s Deep South isn’t the only place that loves fried chicken: tatsuta-age is Japan’s own delicious version, which my family and I are addicted to! Our fried chicken is marinated with traditional Japanese aromatic flavorings and served with a refreshing and savory slaw. You can enjoy this versatile dish hot and crispy, or pack it for a picnic and eat it at room temperature—it travels extremely well. Tatsuta-age is also a perfect leftover food. It keeps in the fridge for several days without losing its flavor, and you can turn the boneless chunks into a delicious sandwich. When I was a kid, my mother often included this fried chicken in my lunchbox, a treat I happily share with my own school-age children today. Don’t use the breast for this dish—the legs and thighs have much more flavor. Be sure to keep the skin on, too.

The secret to this cool, summertime dish? Steaming the chicken. When you steam chicken, it stays moist and juicy even if you serve it cold. And caramelizing the skin beforehand adds lots of wonderful flavor. These are both techniques I borrow from Chinese cuisine. The angel hair pasta in this dish plays the same role as somen noodles: not too chewy or overwhelming when enjoyed cold.

Although somen is typically a summertime food, here’s a delicious, fragrant dish you can enjoy year-round. I love cooking with traditional clay pots, which add a nice homey touch. They also keep food warm and, best of all, make a dramatic presentation—especially when you lift the lid to release this dish’s seductive aroma. You can find these vessels (called “donabe” in Japanese) in Asian markets, or you can substitute a Dutch oven or any sturdy pot with a lid (enamel or cast-iron pots work great). If you’re using a pot, combine all the servings and set the pot, covered, on a heatproof dish on your dining table. Remove the lid with a flourish and ladle into bowls. You’ll see that I call for an udon broth for this recipe. So why not udon noodles? Chicken and eggplant are lighter foods that perfectly complement the lighter somen noodle, while the udon broth adds body and flavor to this hot dish. I use violet-colored Chinese eggplants, which are about the size of zucchini and cook quicker than the larger, more common varieties.

Banana leaf packets of coconut sticky rice are prepared in many parts of Southeast Asia. These spectacular ones from Indonesia are filled with intensely flavored chicken. Among my favorites, they are a fine example of Indonesian cooks’ ability to create foods that are lusty, earthy, and chock-full of complexity. Lemper ayam are a popular snack and can be simply steamed or grilled; during cooking the banana leaf imparts a deep tealike flavor to the rice. For the best, most robust flavor, grind the spices from seed and use the galangal and kaffir (makrut) lime leaf; these latter ingredients are available at Southeast Asian markets and specialty-food stores, as are the candlenuts and banana leaf. Traditional Indonesian cooks use toothpicks to close up the ends of the banana leaf, whereas many modern cooks staple them shut. Serve the packets alone or as an interesting side dish.

Opening up a steamed lotus leaf packet and inhaling its alluring musty fragrance is part of many Cantonese dim sum rituals. Inside, the sticky rice is stained a rich brown from the leaf, and once you start digging toward the center with chopsticks, there is a treasure trove of succulent ingredients. Figuring out what comprises the filling is most fun. Chicken is often included, as jī (fowl) is part of these packets’ name in Mandarin; they are called lo mai gai in Cantonese. Chicken is commonly combined with shiitake mushrooms and Chinese sweet sausage, as is done here. But cooks can add a myriad of other boldly flavored or rich ingredients, such as roasted char siu pork (page 224), roast duck, dried shrimp, salted egg yolk, and chestnuts. Lotus leaf packets can be made large enough for several people to share, but I prefer to present a small one to each guest. I freeze extras as a homemade convenience food to be later revived and packed into a lunch box or enjoyed on the road. At Chinese and Southeast Asian markets, you will find the sticky rice and dried sweet sausages. Packages of fanlike dried lotus leaves are usually near the dried mushrooms; they are inexpensive and last indefinitely if stored in a dry spot. If you are making lotus packets for the first time, soak a couple of extra leaves in case you tear them.

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.

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.