Fry

I remember being terribly impressed the first time I was served these at a friend’s house in the early ’80s. At that time, it was exotic and ambitious to attempt Chinese food at home. Times have changed, thanks in large part to the late Barbara Tropp, the famed chef of China Moon Café in San Francisco, whose wonderful books, like The Modern Art of Chinese Cooking, have made cooking authentic Asian food at home much less daunting. These crispy, flavorful little dumplings make a great starter or hors d’oeuvre if you’re feeding a crowd. The filling multiplies easily, and once you get the hang of filling the dumplings, you can whip up a lot in a relatively short period of time. If you’re a vegetarian, leave the pork and shrimp out and add some sautéed shiitake mushrooms instead. The tart dipping sauce is the perfect complement to the rich filling.

Loaded with onions and peppers and cheese, these substantial quesadillas have a lot of personality—and make great use of leftover Jalapeño-roast Pork (p. 269). Serve them with margaritas for an instant party, or simply add a green salad with orange segments and red onions for an easy week-night meal. The Ancho-Mango sauce keeps well for several days, and it will perk up any number of sandwiches.

Here’s one I stole from my friend, mentor, and sometimes tormentor from Louis XVI Restaurant, Daniel Bonnot. He taught me how to make these about twenty-five years ago. Beignet is essentially just a fancy French word for a fritter. In New Orleans, people have been known to subsist on beignets and coffee alone. This is not advisable. Feel free to substitute chopped crayfish tails for the smoked salmon—both versions are dangerously addictive.

The summer before I started cooking professionally, a friend and I spent three months on a sailboat in the Bahamas. Hey, it was tougher than it sounds! Every day we had to catch our dinner with spears, no less. If we didn’t get a fish or lobster, one thing we could always count on was finding conch. They were and are delicious, but man, are they labor-intensive, as it’s hard to extract the meat from their shells. These fritters, which are easy enough to stir together on a sailboat and are served all over the Bahamas, are so delicious that we didn’t (and you won’t) much mind the work, especially as your conch meat will already be extracted from the shell. Serve them with ice-cold beer, plenty of hot sauce (or my Cat Island Cocktail Sauce), and a creamy Lime Mayonnaise (p. 181) that will help cool the fire. And don’t be surprised if they inspire you to slip into a swimsuit and snorkel mask.

Since the corn is not cooked for the salad, it’s important to use the freshest you can find, preferably from a roadside stand or farmers’ market. Serve the fritters warm, topped with dollops of cool sour cream.

You can mix and match the listed ingredients to create your own version of this main-course salad. We used store-bought roasted turkey, but chicken also works well.

I’ve always loved pot stickers, but I was skeptical when we decided to try a vegetarian version. We got it right on the first try, and that doesn’t happen often. Your meat-eating friends won’t even care that these are vegetarian, because they’re pretty darn good dumplings, if I do say so myself.

The secret to this recipe is the second layer of fl our on the tofu. It makes for a nice thick layer of batter that stays crispy even once the barbecue sauce is on it. The tricky part about his recipe is the frying. Even though you only use an inch or two of oil, be sure to use a big, deep pot or pan just in case it splashes, and use a long spoon or spatula, preferably slotted, to turn the onion rings and tofu because it hurts like heck to burn yourself with hot oil. And please don’t be scared off by these tips; frying is really pretty easy as long as you take the proper precautions, and your tastebuds will definitely be happy with the end result!

This Japanese spin on coleslaw is a refreshing salad, and serving it with crispy fried tofu coated with sesame seeds makes for a great, quick dinner. Even though the tofu is fried, you only need a little bit of oil, so it’s still a nice light meal.

I got the idea for this recipe from a Greek restaurant I worked at. The horseradish sauce is my favorite thing about them because I love that rush of spiciness that clears the sinuses.

Make this for your friends. They won’t believe that it didn’t come from that little Mediterranean place around the corner. This is a great recipe to partially prepare in advance and refrigerate until you’re ready to cook and eat, but once you cook the falafel, it’s best to eat it right away. This sauce is good on anything from veggies to bread. I like to make extra just for snacking on.

Whenever our family gets together for dinner at my parents’ house, this dish is usually on the menu. To make it, catfish fillets are cut into pieces and panfried to a golden crisp. When the fish is removed from the pan, the oil that remains is used to sauté onion and ginger into a heady mixture that is finished with fish sauce and water and then served like a relish. Most catfish sold today are farm-raised and thus lean, so don’t skimp on the oil. Also, the fish splatters during frying, so you might want to use a splatter guard and/or put newspaper on the floor around the stove to speed cleanup.

These terrific shallot slices are like bacon bits—a garnish for when you want to add final rich notes. For them to turn out well, you must first remove all the excess moisture from the fresh shallots. Many Viet cooks skip that step and fry up presliced dehydrated shallot. Sold at Chinese and Vietnamese markets, the time-saving alternative sadly lacks flavor and depth, much like the difference between onion soup made from scratch and a packaged mix. However, they are convenient and inexpensive, which perhaps explains why hành phi are sometimes overused to embellish food. I am a traditionalist when it comes to this garnish. I prepare it the day I need it so that it stays crisp, and I always start with fresh shallots to capture their subtle sweetness. I especially like them sprinkled on bánh cuon (steamed rice crepe rolls, page 270) and xôi bap (sticky rice with hominy, page 247).

Named for the ssssseh-ao sound that the batter makes when it hits the hot skillet, these turmeric yellow rice crepes are irresistible. Fragrant with a touch of coconut milk, they are filled with pork, shrimp, and vegetables and eaten with lettuce, herbs, and a mildly garlicky dipping sauce. Most Viet cooks make sizzling crepes with a rice flour batter, but the results fall short of the nearly translucent ones made by pros in Vietnam. To reproduce the traditional version, which captures the alluring toastiness of rice, I soak and grind raw rice for the batter. It is not as daunting as it sounds. You just need a powerful blender to emulsify the batter to a wonderful silkiness. Adding left over cooked rice and mung bean, a technique I found buried in a book on Viet foodways, gives the crepes a wonderful chewy crispiness. Make your crepes as large as you like. These instructions are for moderately sized eight-inch ones. In Saigon, the same crepes are typically as big as twelve inches, but in the central region, they are as small as tacos. At my house, we serve and eat these crepes as fast as we can make them.

Long before I knew about Chinese American egg foo yong, I was dipping these tasty pancakes in fish sauce and soy sauce and enjoying them with hot rice. When my mother was short of time, she would prepare a couple of plates full of these yellow, pink, and green pancakes for dinner. They are incredibly easy to whip up and yet taste fancy. The edges get fluffy and crispy from frying in a liberal amount of oil, and each rich bite contains a bit of tasty shrimp. I don’t devein the shrimp for these pancakes because I have found that it leaves unattractive lumps. But if you prefer to devein them, do so.

These nearly translucent, soft steamed rice crepes are served plain with slices of gio lua (sausage), or they are filled and shaped into small rolls, as they are here. Finished with cilantro, shallots, thit rouc bông (cotton pork), and a little sauce, these rolls were one of my father’s favorite foods to prepare for our family when I was growing up. In Vietnam, making bánh cuon was usually left to professional cooks who had mastered the technique of steaming a thin rice batter on fabric stretched over a pot of boiling water. In the 1970s, Vietnamese expatriates devised an easier method of making the crepes in a nonstick skillet. For the batter, they blended cake flour (very fine, soft Thai rice flour was not readily available then) with tapioca starch and cornstarch. While that approach works fine, I prefer to use Thai rice flour in place of the cake flour because it yields a more delicate result that is closer to the original version. The tapioca starch and cornstarch help the batter set up nicely and contribute to achieving the tender yet chewy texture of the traditional crepes.

Tender, flavorful, and lightly crispy, these fritters release a heady coconut fragrance as they fry and are complemented by a spicy-sweet dipping sauce at the table. Traditionally, the corn was crushed in a mortar, but an electric mini-chopper or a food processor eases the workload with a fine result. For coconut cream with the best texture and flavor, make your own or use the thick, creamy plug that rises to the top of a can of Mae Ploy brand coconut milk.

It used to be that flapjacks were made from a cornbased batter, this being the major distinction between them and their close cousin pancakes, which were made from a wheat flour–based batter. Today the two terms are roughly synonymous, though I love the heartiness that the term flapjacks implies, and the three that we stack up per serving are more than enough to satisfy even the hungriest Bar Americain bruncher. That said, the buttermilk in the batter makes the flapjacks light and fluffy, as does taking care not to overmix the batter and giving it ample resting time before you start cooking. Instead of folding the tasty extras into the flapjack batter, I load warm maple syrup with the good stuff—crunchy pecans and sweet apricots. Apricot season is short, and finding really flavorful ones is not always easy, so I use dried apricots in the syrup, rehydrating them in simple syrup and then roasting them. The sugars are slightly caramelized in the process, and the fruit’s sweet, slightly tart flavor is magnified.

A Mexican-inspired brunch is my favorite way to recover from a long night out, and this spin on huevos rancheros is how we serve it up at Bar Americain. This plate is layered with taste and texture, from the crisp, salty tortillas up to the cool and chunky guacamole on top. Savory black beans make this dish extra satisfying, while the chile sauces pump up the color—and heat. I like the slightly sweet, nutty flavor of blue corn tortillas, but if you can’t find them, yellow ones are an easy substitute.

Native Americans showed the Pilgrims how to cook with maize (corn) and probably taught them to make johnny cake, a dense cornmeal bread whose thick batter is shaped into a flat cake and baked or fried on a griddle. These cakes (basically just fried corn bread) are the perfect vehicle for many toppings. One of my favorites is barbecued duck and cranberry butter. Feel free to make your own cranberry relish, use what’s left over from your holiday meal, or purchase a good-quality prepared one.