Grilling

These crunchy, nutty rice crackers flecked with white or black sesame seeds turn up in a variety of roles on the Vietnamese table. They may be munched as a snack, used like a tortilla chip to scoop up food, or crumbled and mixed into dry noodle dishes. Although I prefer bánh đa crunchy, some folks add them to noodle soups, where they soften into chewy accents. They may even be soaked in water until pliable and then wrapped in rice paper with other ingredients to create hand rolls. These unique crackers are mostly available at Viet markets and delis and at some Chinese markets with a large Vietnamese clientele. They are usually stocked near the rice paper. Dried and untoasted, the crackers look like translucent rounds of hard plastic. Eight-inch ones are easiest to work with. Look for them bundled in short stacks of six to eight, wrapped in plastic or packed in bags and sealed with staples (which means they are probably locally made and very good). Pretoasted crackers are often broken, so skip the convenience and buy them untoasted. Once toasted and cooled, the crackers are broken into lovely shards and served. Here are two options for toasting them.

In this Cambodian treat (that is also a favorite in Vietnam), bananas are covered with coconut-infused sticky rice, wrapped in banana leaf, and grilled.

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.

The ingredients for this recipe resemble those for rice noodle bowl with beef (page 224). But instead of having big assembled bowls, diners compose their own small bowls, soaking the tender, sweet, salty pork in sauce, tearing up lettuce and herbs, adding some noodles, and then nibbling on their creations. Traditionally, a meal of bún cha is unhurried and encourages long conversation. A famous Hanoi rendition of this northern Viet specialty combines sliced pork belly and pork patties made from chopped shoulder, but I prefer a less complicated and healthier version that uses marinated pork slices. A grill best mimics the traditional brazier used in Vietnam, but the pork slices can also be roasted in the top third of a 475°F oven until nicely browned (about 9 minutes on each side).

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.

Years ago, I tasted these grilled beef skewers at a restaurant in Orange County’s Little Saigon, where they were served with a hoisin-based peanut sauce. When I got home, I researched the recipe in cookbooks published in Vietnam decades ago and developed this recipe, which includes shrimp sauce (mam tôm) to give the beef a distinctive savory depth. Typical of food from Vietnam’s central region, these skewers are rich and a bit salty. Dipped in the earthy sauce, they are addictively good—the perfect match for a cold beer, margarita, or gimlet. Tri-tip steak (from the bottom loin), a flavorful cut that California cooks like to grill, is ideal for these skewers. A thick piece of flap steak (from the short loin), which is oft en used for carne asada, also works well. For the true flavors of the Southeast Asian table, grill the beef over charcoal or a gas grill. In the absence of a grill, use the broiler.

This is an egg sandwich I could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Tangy sourdough bread is grilled to crusty perfection and topped with a meaty slice of griddled country ham, blistered sweet tomatoes, and a perfectly fried egg. A lightly dressed mound of slightly bitter, feathery frisée crowns this fork-and-knife sandwich.

Both venison and blackberries are farmed these days, but they were once procured in the wild, by early American hunters and foragers. I like to think that this dish is one that would have been at home—in essence if not preparation—on the table of pioneers first settling the woods of northern Wisconsin and Michigan. Blackberries have a tart edge to their fruity flavor, which enlivens the richness of nutty brown butter. The sauce is hit with just a hint of sage, and its slightly woodsy flavor brings out the still-wild-at-heart nature of the berries. Sage is a potent herb, and you need to employ it in small doses. If you can’t find or aren’t a fan of venison, lamb or even pork chops would work in its place.

This is barbecue belt cooking all the way. I don’t care if you’re in Austin, Texas, or Manhattan, New York—if ribs are on the menu, you’ve got to roll up your shirt sleeves and have a big stack of napkins ready. This dish has New Yorkers doing just that when it makes its weekly appearance at Bar Americain. Racks of meaty ribs are dressed up with a smoky spice rub for extra flavor. The rich barbecue sauce, spiked with the molasseslike flavor of bourbon, will leave even the most refined diners licking their fingers. It wouldn’t be proper barbecue without some corn bread to mop up every last delicious bit of flavor from the plate, and I like to serve this dish with a savory tomato one.

Tender veal is most commonly served in lighter preparations because of its delicate nature, but the porterhouse cut is substantial enough to allow for a truly rich and deeply flavorful sauce such as this one. Intensely sweet dried figs steeped in wine join a reduction of wine and veal stock to form a syrupy glaze that coats the veal in flavor. Cabernet vinegar (though another red wine vinegar will do) balances the figs’ inherent sweetness with its bright acidity. Uncommon as they are, veal porterhouse chops make this a memorable, special-occasion dish, but you could certainly substitute thick-cut pork chops with excellent results.

Many people think the term porterhouse refers to the size of the steak, but that is not the case. Porterhouse is an on-the-bone cut with a portion of the flavorful strip on one side of the bone and the tender filet on the other. With its lacquering of barbecue sauce and side of a corn–collard green tart, this dish is an ode to the South. The Carolinas are fanatical about mustard-based barbecue sauces. Mustard lends a tangy heat that is offset by dark, sweet molasses, and both are mellowed by mild honey and light rice wine vinegar. This barbecue sauce is as at home with lamb as it is with the smoked pork of the Carolinas. The tart’s savory filling is basically a corn pudding run through with strips of collard greens.

The joy of a chopped salad is that there is no need to compose each forkful to make sure you have the perfect bite—every uniformly sized morsel is already tossed and mixed together for a whole plate full of perfect bites. Green, almost grassy in flavor, asparagus is one of spring’s delights. Grilling enhances its flavor and imparts a pleasant bit of char to the salad. Briny olives, sharp cheddar cheese, and tender chickpeas add substance to the mix, while crispy bits of fried pita bread lend a salty crunch and additional texture. (We make our own pita chips at the restaurant, and the directions to do so are here, but you could certainly skip this step and use crumbles of your favorite bagged pita chips instead.) Slightly sweet, slightly tart, definitely delicious, this Meyer lemon dressing pops with whole grain mustard, lemon zest, and honey.

Unknown to the majority of this country, the green chile cheeseburger is a beloved culinary treasure of New Mexico. Having been there and sampled my share, I know exactly why New Mexicans love it as they do, and that’s why I had to bring my own version to New York. With its fresh bite, the Hatch chile is a favorite in New Mexico, where there is a whole festival celebrating the hometown crop. I like to add some heat to my green chile relish with roasted serranos and use milder, peppery poblano chiles to round out the mix. Tossing the chiles with acidic red wine vinegar and vibrant cilantro ensures a nice freshness to balance the creamy, decadent cheese sauce. Add some bright color and flavor with pickled red onions and some salty crunch with blue tortilla chip crumbles, and you’ve got a burger worth serving to even the toughest New Mexico critics.

There are many people out there who claim to be oyster lovers yet have eaten them only raw. It’s true that slurping down an oyster on the half shell is a great culinary experience, but to call yourself a true oyster aficionado you need to open yourself up to the glories of the cooked oyster. The meat is tender and even buttery, its fresh taste of the sea concentrated by the oven’s heat. A rich butter seasoned with the soft licoricelike flavor of tarragon and the sharp bite of black pepper melts over the cooked oyster, joining the oyster’s juices in the shell. Serving the oyster shells on a bed of salt is both an attractive and a handy presentation; the salt keeps the shells upright and keeps them from sliding around the platter.

This is an obvious play on the southern pulled pork sandwich, which is typically made with braised pork shoulder. Duck legs are an interesting upgrade. While duck breasts are best cooked quickly and served rare, the legs need to be slow-cooked to make them tender. I believe in employing strong flavors such as fresh ginger, star anise, fennel, and cinnamon to cut through the richness of duck. The pickles and coleslaw are optional, but I can’t imagine having a pulled pork—or, in this case, pulled duck—sandwich without them. That crunchy, vinegary bit of freshness truly rounds out the sandwich.

This was on Bar Americain’s lunch menu on opening day, and in the years since then it’s become a staple for the lunch crowd. I first started serving a swordfish club at Mesa Grill years ago, and its popularity prompted me to redesign the sandwich with a more distinctly American feel. Creamy avocado slices add a nice touch of richness to the lean, meaty swordfish. Juicy tomato, peppery watercress, and a fresh lemony mayonnaise complete this vibrant sandwich. Serve with Barbecued Potato Chips (page 163) and pickled carrots and okra if desired.

This is the ultimate grilled cheese. Forget about American cheese; this grown-up grilled cheese features the real deals. I love goat cheese, but you couldn’t do this sandwich without the cheddar; goat cheese can be too crumbly to melt well, and cheddar—beyond having great flavor—gets all nice and gooey when melted, bringing all of the tasty components together. Tart green tomatoes balance the salty bacon, which is a big part of what makes this sandwich so amazing. One final note: A key factor in making any grilled cheese is to be sure the bread is well toasted.

This is David Alan’s take on an old-fashioned that incorporates a smoky flavor from the home-smoked orange juice used as a base. Although smoked juice adds an extra layer of flavor, the drink also tastes good with plain orange juice.