Chicken and green mango rice paper rolls

For best results, choose quality Vietnamese-made rice paper sheets, such as the Horse brand.

Method

Put rice on baking tray in hot oven, shaking occasionally until golden. Cool, grind in mortar and pestle or coffee grinder to make rice powder. Reserve. Make nuoc cham dipping sauce by combining fish sauce, water, fresh chilli and caster sugar, simmer until dissolved. Cool. Mix coconut cream, salt and sugar and simmer until dissolved. Add the poached, shredded chicken and set aside in a bowl. In another bowl, mix the green mango, mint, coriander and shallots and sprinkle with 1 tsp rice powder.

Put a bowl of lukewarm water and four equal sized dinner plates on table. Working quickly, dip a rice sheet briefly in the water, turning it quickly. Shake off excess water. Lay it on a plate. Repeat with all 4 plates. Just below the centre of each sheet, place a walnut-sized amount of the shredded chicken topped with a similar amount of noodles and green mango-herb mix.

Pick up the edge closest to you, fold the bottom edge of the rice sheet tightly over the mixture. Fold in the left and right sides and complete the roll. Repeat. Serve with nuoc cham dipping sauce.

Makes 10-12 rolls

• 1 cup jasmine rice
• 1 cup fish sauce
• 1 1/2 cups water
• 1 tsp fresh chilli, sliced
• 1 cup caster sugar
• 400ml can coconut cream
• 2 tsp salt
• 3 tbsp caster sugar
• 250g chicken breast, poached briefly in salted water and shredded
• 1 cup green mango, julienned
• 1/2 cup mint leaves, finely chopped
• 1/2 bunch coriander, finely chopped
• 1/2 bunch finely chopped spring onions
• 1 packet rice paper sheets
• 1/2 packet rice vermicelli, cooked as per packet, cooled

Lemon grass chicken, jasmine rice and Vietnamese slaw

This recipe can be used for a dinner party on a tight budget.

Method

For the chicken and rice

Rub five spice powder over both sides of chicken pieces. Combine remaining ingredients (except rice) in a bowl and mix well. Pour marinade over chicken, turn to coat, cover and refrigerate for 2-3 hours.

Place chicken, skin side up, in a roasting dish with marinade and add 1/2 cup of water. Roast at 200C for 45-50 minutes, brushing with marinade occasionally until chicken is golden and cooked. Remove and rest in a warm place for 5-8 minutes. Reserve pan juices and keep hot.

Cook rice in three cups of lightly salted water, covered, for 12 minutes. To serve, place chicken on plates, drizzle with reserved hot cooking juices and accompany with rice and slaw.

Vietnamese

Blanch celery in lightly salted boiling water for 30 seconds, drain and refresh under cold water, drain. Combine vinegar and sugar in a small saucepan and stir over low heat until sugar dissolves. Simmer uncovered for 2-3 minutes or until slightly reduced. Cool. Toss carrot in a small bowl with vinegar mixture and set aside for five minutes. Using a vegetable peeler, slice cucumber into ribbons. Place celery, carrot and cucumber in a large bowl and add cabbage, green onions and bean sprouts.

Combine soy sauce, fish sauce and lime juice in a small bowl and pour over vegetables. Toss gently and add coriander and watercress leaves.

For the lemon grass chicken

• 1 tsp five spice powder
• 1.8kg chicken, cut into 4 pieces
• 1 clove garlic, finely chopped
• 1 stick lemon grass, very finely sliced (white part only)
• 1 large red chilli, finely chopped
• 2 tbsp fresh lime juice
• 1/3 cup soy sauce
• 1 tsp palm sugar
• 2 tsp sesame oil
• 2 tsp vegetable oil
• 1 1/2 cups jasmine rice

For the Vietnamese slaw

• 1 large stick celery, sliced 1cm thick diagonally
• 1/3 cup malt vinegar
• 1 1/2 tbsp sugar
• 1 carrot, peeled and very finely sliced (using a mandolin or food processor)
• 1 lebanese cucumber
• 1 1/2 cups shredded cabbage
• 4 green onions, sliced diagonally
• 1 cup bean sprouts
• 2 tbsp soy sauce
• 1 tbsp fish sauce
• 2 tbsp lime juice
• 1/2 coriander leaves
• 1/2 cup watercress leaves

Barramundi with bananna bell, Hmong style

Banana bell is the correct term for the reddish-purple pod that often gets called banana blossom. They are available from Asian grocery shops.

Method

Fill a large bowl with cold water and add half the lemon juice. Peel the banana bell, removing and discarding the tough, purple-red outer leaves. Separate the yellow, pinkish leaves and immediately put them in the bowl of lemon water. This will prevent the banana bell from discolouring.

Put the stock in a saucepan with the remaining lemon juice, tamarind, kaffir lime leaves and lemongrass. Finely slice the banana bell and add to the water with the green mango. Cook for 5 minutes until softened.

Place the fish fillets in the pot, reduce heat to medium and cover tightly. Cook for 10 minutes, until the fish is white and cooked through. Garnish with coriander, mint and basil leaves and chilli (if using). Serve with steamed rice on the side.

• juice of 2 lemons
• 1 large banana bell (see Note)
• 4 cups chicken stock
• 1 tablespoon tamarind
• 3-4 kaffir lime leaves, finely sliced
• 1 stalk lemongrass, white part only, cut in half lengthways
• 1 green mango, finely julienned
• 500g barramundi fillet, cut in half lengthways
• 2 cups roughly chopped coriander leaves and stems
• 1 cup Vietnamese mint leaves
• 1 cup Thai basil leaves
• 1 small red chilli, finely sliced (optional)

Grilled pork balls with mint and coriander

The defining characteristic of Vietnamese cooking is the presence of basket-loads of fresh herbs and salad greens. These little meatballs, nem nuong are typically eaten wrapped in lettuce leaves with herbs and rice noodles.1 tbsp raw rice, unwashed

Method

Soak eight bamboo skewers in water to prevent them burning. Dry-fry the rice in a small pan until lightly golden. Grind to a powder and set aside. Separate the lettuce leaves and chill.

Combine the ground rice, pork, garlic, salt, pepper, fish sauce and sugar and knead until well mixed.

Boil the vermicelli for 2 to 3 minutes until just cooked, drain and rinse in cold water.

To make the dressing, mix the sugar and lime juice, then add the fish sauce and chilli. Toss the drained noodles and torn mint and coriander leaves in the dressing.

With wet hands, roll the pork mixture into balls the size of a walnut. Thread the balls onto the drained wooden skewers (three to a skewer) and grill on or under a pre-heated grill until golden brown, turning occasionally.

To serve

Serve with a few extra mint and coriander leaves and chilled lettuce leaves for wrapping.

• 1 iceberg lettuce, chilled
• 500g minced pork
• 2 garlic cloves, crushed
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/4 tsp ground pepper
• 1 tbsp fish sauce
• 2 tsp caster sugar
• 200g dried rice vermicelli
• 2 tbsp torn mint leaves
• 2 tbsp torn coriander leaves

Dressing

• 1 tsp caster sugar
• 2 tbsp fresh lime juice
• 3 tbsp fish sauce
• 1 fresh red chilli, sliced
• 8 bamboo skewers

Brisket broth

This broth is a bit of work but the complex flavours make it worth the effort.

Method

Marinate brisket in fish sauce overnight. Heat oil in a heavy-based saucepan and fry ginger, onion and garlic on high until a deep golden colour, stirring regularly. Add sugar and fry for five minutes. Add coriander seeds, stock and brisket (discard fish sauce) and bring to the boil, skim, reduce heat and simmer for 90 minutes or until brisket is soft. Remove brisket from broth and chill in the fridge. Once cold, slice thinly. Pass broth through a strainer into a clean saucepan and add lemongrass, chilli and lime leaves. Simmer for five minutes. Adjust seasoning with fish sauce and sugar. Add broccolini and when just cooked, add brisket. Serve in large bowls with bean shoots and mint.

• 800g brisket, cut into 4 pieces
• 150ml fish sauce, plus extra for seasoning
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
• 80g peeled ginger, finely sliced
• 2 large brown onions, finely sliced
• 5 garlic cloves, finely sliced
• 2 tbsp brown or palm sugar, plus extra for seasoning
• 1 tbsp coriander seeds, dry roasted
• 1lt beef stock
• 2lt chicken stock
• 1 lemongrass stalk, trimmed and squashed
• 4 kaffir lime leaves
• 2 red birdseye chilli, cut in half
• 8 broccolini stalks, cut in half lengthways
• 4 small handfuls bean shoots
• 4 small handfuls vietnamese mint or coriander

Crab and sweet mango rolls

Every bite of these snacks is fresh and fruity. Make them just before serving to prevent the wrapping drying out, or pack in an airtight container, each roll separated by a sheet of baking paper.

Method

Soak noodles in boiling water for about six minutes until tender. Drain well and cool. Cut the cheeks from the mango and slice lengthways into long fingers. Cut off the skin and discard. Finely shred the cos lettuce. Dip one rice paper round in hot water and lie on a bench. Top with shredded lettuce, noodles, mango, crab meat and mint. Drizzle one teaspoon of sweet chilli sauce on top and wrap tightly, folding in the ends like a spring roll. Continue with remaining rolls. Cut the nori to three-quarters of the length of each roll and wrap around, trimming to fit (it will stick naturally to the rice paper). Serve with lime wedges and remaining sweet chilli sauce in a small bowl, scattered with cashews.

• 60g rice vermicelli noodles
• 1 firm, ripe mango
• 100g cos lettuce
• 8 dried rice paper rounds (banh trang), about 22cm diameter
• 150g crab meat or cooked prawns
• 24 mint leaves, chopped
• 4 tbsp sweet chilli sauce
• 4 sheets nori (optional)
• 1 lime, quartered
• 2 tbsp roasted cashews, crushed

Easy Holiday Gifts: Mini Vietnamese fruitcakes and other ideas

I love to bake holiday sweets but this year, I unfortunately have little time to do it. I used to stay up late baking up to a dozen different kinds of cookies to gift friends and family. Given my current schedule and obligations, late-night baking sessions were not possible for 2010. I decided to revisit an old friend, the fruitcake, and scale it down.

You may not like fruitcakes but give them a second look. They’re great for the holidays because they keep well for a long time. Actually, they get better with age as the dried and preserved fruit soften and develop a slight boozy quality. Plus, fruitcakes allow you to use up bits of ingredients in the cupboard. I had dried fruit from the past 18 months and nuts in the freezer. I supplemented those things with a bag of mixed dried fruit (the one with blueberries, cherries, cranberries, etc.) at Trader Joe’s.

The other thing that’s great about fruitcakes is the use of liquor to infuse the cake with flavor throughout. I chopped up all the solid ingredients and marinated them in Slivovitz, East European plum brandy that my dad gave me years ago.

My original Vietnamese fruitcake recipe called for 1 cup of mei kwei lu chiu (Chinese sorghum and rose petal liquot) or orange-flavored liquor, but I was out. The Slivovitz I used was made by Hungarian producer Zwack, which is widely available in the U.S. It tasted quite nice, like a lighter version of the Chinese liquor but not as aromatic. I could have gotten zwacked on it but had to keep chopping up my nuts and fruit!

From one recipe I got 9 minis – that’s roughly 8 gifts with 1 leftover for you. After aging, wrap each cake in plastic wrap and then parchment paper to ensure that it stays moist. Tie a ribbon around each one and you’ve got a great present. For extra sturdy protection, put the wrapped and ribboned fruitcake into the original disposable baking tin (we washed ours after removing the cakes). That’s what I did before sliding one into the mailbox for Karen, our letter carrier.

Loaf cakes like fruitcakes are perfect for scaling down into minis. They are cute, satisfying, and make a nice statement. You’ve still got time to bake a batch for the weekend gift giving opportunities.

Pandan and Coconut Tapioca Cake (Banh Bo Nuong) Recipe Challenge

This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever baked. I went three rounds with it as part of a small project with Thu N., who emailed me a while back asking for help in making one of her favorite Vietnamese sweets.  If you’re not familiar with banh bo nuong, it’s a chewy, coconutty green cake often sold as slices on Styrofoam trays at Vietnamese bakeries. The color and tropical, grassy notes come from pandan leaves (la dua).

Banh bo hap refers to the Chinese steamed rice cake (bái táng gāo, 白糖糕) that’s sometimes available at dim sum house. Banh bo nuong is the Vietnamese baked version that doesn’t require days of fermentation. It’s supposedly fast to make but it’s taken me a while to figure things out.

The cake is tricky because there is no gluten in it and you have to get it to rise. Additionally, a good banh bo nuong has striations in the cake from the heat pushing through the batter. Those vertical channels – which you see above – are sometimes described as honeycombs, which is why banh bo nuong can be translated as “honeycomb cake.” I see geologic patterns more than patterns formed by busy bees. Ants dig channels like those, right?

So, I’m here to report to you my progress on three (3!) tries. I think you may get a laugh or two, maybe more. Thu’s problem was this: her banh bo nuong was not rising properly in the middle to form the desired ‘honeycomb’ pattern.

The Devil in too many details

There are just a handful of ingredients in this cake — tapioca starch, sugar, coconut milk or cream, pandan extract, eggs, and leavening. To help Thu, I looked online for a recipe and found several banh bo nuong recipes that specified using single-acting baking powder sold at Vietnamese markets. That’s the pinkish Alsa envelopes below. My mom dug up a recipe from her friend’s daughter that called for Alsa and vanilla sugar, also sold at Vietnamese markets. Some recipes specify a particular brand of tapioca starch too. Below is what I typically use, the 3-headed elephant. Additionally, there was the holiday green pandan extract and a warning to avoid using coconut milk and instead use the thick cream.

Beyond the “you must use this” there were many “you must do that” or your cake won’t rise and bake properly. For example, don’t stir the batter too much. Strain the batter. Let the batter sit for 20 minutes. Preheat the cake pan in the oven. Regulate the oven temperate from high to low. Use a moderate oven temperature. Many people have made this cake at home, and needed to assist Thu, who was pinging me with her progress.

Banh Bo Nuong #1

I gave the recipe from my mom’s friend a try. I made a special trip to Lion market for Alsa single acting baking powder and the Dr. Oetker vanilla sugar. I followed the recipe instructions to what I thought was a “T” but the first cake was frankly, an unmitigated disaster. It took the longest time to rise and I baked the darn thing for 1 1/2 hours!

The green pandan extract turned brown from all that baking. I sent Thu the above photo and she kindly said that it looked nice. I took a bite from that slice and it was rubbery and tasted metallic, most likely from the Alsa baking powder. Worse than all of that – the thing was heavy enough to use as a doorstop or even the rock for a curling competition! I threw banh bo nuong #1 out.

Banh Bo Nuong #2

I reached out to my friend, Terrence Khuu, a San Francisco-based chef. He got his mom’s recipe for me and cryptically sent it via Facebook. Terrence said that she’d been making really good ones that he’d been eating up and getting fat from. Sounded good to me. Mrs. Khuu surprisingly used a 1:1 ratio of tapioca starch and har gow dumpling mix (bot ha cao) that she bought at the Vietnamese market. Terrence sent me a photo of the mix.

Mrs. Khuu did not use Alsa baking powder and food coloring. She simply stirred the ingredients together and baked for 40-45 minutes. I trusted Mrs. Khuu but didn’t buy the dumpling mix. After all the recipe developing for the Asian Dumplings cookbook, I knew that the mix was mostly wheat starch. So I used a 1:1:1 ratio of wheat starch to tapioca starch to coconut cream. I preheated the pan in the oven for about 15 minutes and the cake didn’t rise much at the edge. It seized up instead and deflated a tad after baking.

The cake baked okay but it cracked and weighed just a little less than a doorstop. The pandan extract’s chemically flavor shot right through the tapioca and wheat starches. No wonder Mrs. Khuu didn’t use the pandan extract. Cake #2 went into the trash with a thud.

Banh Bo Nuong #3

I dumped the pandan extract and decided to extract from scratch. I’d done it before with water but this time, used the thin liquid from the canned coconut milk. I chose Aroy-D brand in a box because it’s exactly 1 cup – what I needed for the recipe. Boxed coconut milk and cream are fresher tasting than canned. So I whirred it up and squeezed things dry. Then I stirred all the ingredients together and poured the avocado green batter into a parchment paper-lined baking pan. Into the oven it went for about 45 minutes.

The resulting cake looked like the Elephant Man with that bump you see. Was my oven heat THAT uneven? I let the cake cool and when I went to unmold it, it WOULD NOT come out. I thought I’d lost it. Then I cut and pried out a wedge of the cake. It was gloriously green, not lead-like in weight, and had the vertical honeycomb trenches. I was all smiles! But, the parchment paper was nowhere.

Suddenly, I realized that most of the batter had baked underneath the parchment. The parchment was actually under the crumbly top of the cake! I don’t know if that was because I moved the pan to take the photo or if the direction of heat flow in the batter during baking caused the paper to rise like that. The bump in the cake was caused by an undulation in the parchment paper that is visible below:

In any event, it was the most bizarre baking experience I’d ever had. The cake tasted good and wasn’t as rubbery as an all-tapioca cake. But not having the top of the cake attached was weird. Sometimes, the simplest foods can be the hardest to master.

I think that the recipe is pretty much there but I don’t have the time right now to give it another go.  Plus, I depleted my inventory of frozen pandan leaves. But on the next try, I won’t line the pan and hope for the best. Until then, here’s the recipe for you to give it a whirl.

Recipe

Pandan and Coconut Tapioca Cake 

Banh Bo Nuong

If you don’t have this brand of coconut milk (I got mine at Ranch 99 in a six-pack), use regular canned coconut milk. You want about 1/2 cup of the thin coconut milk and 1/2 cup of the thicker cream. Extracting the pandan in the thin milk is easier to work with. The tapioca and wheat starch are both Asian market items. As for the baking powder, it’s just the regular double acting kind you’d find at a supermarket.

Makes 1 cake, enough for 8

1 (8.5 -ounce) box coconut milk, Aroy-D brand preferred

1/2 cup packed chopped, thawed pandan leaves (about 1 3/4 ounces)

4 large eggs

1 cup tapioca starch

1 cup wheat starch

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

1. Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat it to 400F. Oil a high-sided 8-inch round cake pan.

2. Separate the thin from the thick coconut milk. Set aside the thick milk. Use a mini food processor to grind the thinner milk with the pandan.

Then extract the green liquid through a piece of muslin, squeezing as much out as you can. (See this post on pandan for guidance.) Whisk in the reserved coconut cream. Then combine with the eggs, whisking until well incorporated.

3. In a bowl, combine the tapioca starch, wheat starch, salt, sugar, and baking powder. Make a well in the center, then whisk in the liquid ingredients. If the batter is lumpy, pour it through a coarse mesh strainer.

4. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and slide it into the oven. Bake for about 45 minutes, until a toothpick inserted comes out fairly dry. There may be a little dampness at the bottom of the cake. Cool on a rack before running a knife around the edge and unmolding.

Good luck and let me know how you do with this recipe! Or, maybe you have experience baking banh bo nuong and want to share your insights? Perhaps you know why the cake bakes up with the vertical striations?

Shaved Brussels Sprout Salad Recipe

I didn’t come up with this idea on my own. I borrowed it from a salad that I ate at Michael Chiarello’s Bottega restaurant in Napa Valley. It’s basically a cabbage slaw but made elegant by the fine shavings of Brussels sprouts. Chiarello’s version had sieved egg, marcona almonds, pecorino cheese and a citrus vinaigrette. It captivated me with its plush and refreshing qualities. I left the restaurant pondering how I could tilt the salad toward Asia. This is what I came up with.

The most difficult thing to do is shaving the Brussels sprouts. I removed the outer leaves until there was enough of a base so that I could firmly hold on to the sprout. Then I used aBenriner mandolin to make the shavings, stopping short of the final 1/3 inch to avoid shaving off my finger tips. (I could have worn a cut-and-slash resistant glove but did not.)

Because of their density, a few Brussels sprouts yield a lot in shavings. All it took for two servings were 8 shaved sprouts.

After shaving the Brussels sprouts, it was all downhill. I just had to dress them. For tropical flair, I squirted on some lime juice, which also helped to slightly wilt the sprouts.

Then I rummaged through my fridge for dressing ingredients. I found a cucumber mayonnaise, which I’d made the night before to eat with fried oysters. The mayonnaise came together like this:

Cucumber Mayonnaise

In a small food processor, blend together:

1 Persian cucumber, unpeeled and grated (use the finest hole on a box grater)

2 to 3 tablespoons mayonnaise, whole egg or homemade

Aim for a texture like that of a light salad dressing. Transfer to a bowl then add salt and pepper to taste. For tang, add a bit of fresh lemon or tangerine juice.

After tossing the ingredients, I let them sit for a few minutes to commingle. I then tasted it and adjusted its flavor with a pinch of sugar as I’d gone too far with the lime juice. To finish the salad, I needed a burst of color and flavor and opted for a sprinkling of ichimi togarashi (Japanese ground chile pepper). That was it. I was done.

Other dressings you could use:

• Combine mayonnaise with chile garlic sauce (tuong ot toi) and lime juice. Add water to thin it out a bit. Season with salt.
• A traditional Vietnamese fish sauce dressing like the one used for the spicy cabbage salad recipe. Feel free to mix in some Vietnamese coriander (rau ram), mint, or cilantro to inject herby goodness. Add finely chopped cashews for a little rich crunch. There is vinegar in the dressing to wilt and slightly ‘cook’ the Brussels sprout. Omit the initial squirts of lime.

I think you get the idea. When making this salad, you can take the seasonings in many directions. I hope you try this recipe out and tweak it to your liking too!

Pumpkin Soup with Lime Leaf and Coconut Recipe

My husband and I are spending Thanksgiving with our families in Southern California. His Auntie Helen, 88, is fighting cancer and the prognosis is not good. We’re driving down with a ready-made dinner to assemble for her on Thursday.

She’s not chewing well (actually, she doesn’t have many teeth left) and can’t eat much. We’ve had many Thanksgiving dinners at restaurants in years past where the creamy pumpkin soup drew oohs and ahhs from Helen. With that in mind, I decided to make a creamy squash soup from a Williams Sonoma cookbook appropriately titled Autumn. The 1997 recipe called for acorn squash but that’s so 20th century. I opted to mix locally grown butternut and red kuri squash (a.k.a. Japanese, uchuri kuri, and Hokkaido squash), two types of winter squash with wonderfully sweet, nutty flesh.

I followed the recipe, roasting the squash to intensify its flavor and then adding it to a base of sautéed onions, bacon, and butter. Chicken stock was added for liquid. As the soup simmered, I tasted it and thought it a little blah. A bit split pea soup-ish. Hankering for a little Southeast Asian punch, I went into the yard, plucked 6 kaffir (makrut) lime leaves, ran back inside and threw them into the pot. I retrieved a chunk of galangal that I’d just thrown into the compost pail, and then quickly rinsed, smacked, and threw it into the pot for earthy depth. (Don’t be alarmed, it hadn’t been in the compost pail for long.)

The soup started smelling and tasting better, reminding me of the Vietnamese dish of pumpkin simmered with coconut milk. That’s a classic vegetarian dish in the repertoire, and my soup with the bacon and stock sure wasn’t; see the recipe intro on how to make the soup vegetarian style.

The recipe called for pureeing the soup and finishing it with cream and orange juice. I opted for coconut cream instead and a touch of fresh lime juice. Oh, there was also suppose to be a toasted walnut butter which I dumped for a small plop of chile oil.

The result of my turning a western dish into an Asian one? Creamy, lovely and fresh. A nice merging of Vietnam, Southeast Asia and America. We’ll start Thanksgiving dinner with this soup and see if Auntie Helen oohs and ahs.

Pumpkin Soup with Lime Leaf and Coconut

If lime leaves aren’t available, use lemongrass. The galangal is optional. For a vegetarian version, omit the bacon and increase the amount of butter to 2 1/2 tablespoons. Instead of chicken stock, use water or a vegetable stock.

Makes about 8 cups, enough for 6 to 8

2 small winter squash (e.g. butternut, kabocha, or kuri), each about 2 pounds

Canola oil

1 tablespoon butter

2 slices bacon, finely chopped

1 large yellow onion, thinly sliced

6 kaffir (makrut) lime leaves or 1 hefty stalk lemongrass, trimmed, cut into 3-inch lengths and bruised

2-inch chunk galangal, halved lengthwise and bruised, optional

6 cups homemade chicken stock or canned chicken broth

3/4 cup coconut milk

Salt

Garnish options: Lime wedges, chile oil, chopped cilantro or Thai basil

1. Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 400. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or foil and lightly oil. Use a cleaver to halve each squash through the stem end. Then quarter. Put the squash with one of the cut side down on the baking sheet. Bake for about 40 minutes, turning mid-way, until soft enough to be pierced with fork or knife. Remove from the oven and set aside until cool enough to handle.

Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds and fibers. Discard. Then spoon the cooked flesh from each section of squash. Set aside in a bowl.

2. Heat a pot over medium heat and melt the butter. Add the bacon and onion and cook, stirring occasionally for about 8 minutes, until the onions are soft. Add the squash, lime leaves, galangal, and stock. Bring to a boil and lower the heat to simmer for about 30 minutes, until most of the squash has disintegrated. Remove from the heat and cool for about 20 minutes. Use chopsticks or tongs to remove the leaves and galangal.

3. Use a blender or food processor to puree the soup until smooth and creamy. Work in batches, passing each one through a coarse mesh strainer into a clean pot. Add the coconut milk, taste with extra salt as needed. Reheat and ladle into individual soup bowls. Serve with lime wedges and chile oil on the side for guests to add their own finishing touches. For a touch of green, garnish with the cilantro or basil before presenting at the table.

Avocado Shake Recipe (Sinh to Bo)

The first time I saw avocado in a savory dish, I suffered culture shock. In Vietnam, like elsewhere in Southeast Asia, avocados are used for sweets. Most often times, the flesh of this rich berry is  combine with condensed milk, which amplifies the avocado flavor.

Though I grew up eating avocado out of hand with condensed milk spooned into the emptied bowl where the pit once sat, many Vietnamese and other Southeast Asian people, for that matter, make a delightful shake/smoothie with avocado. That’s the most common preparation. In Vietnam, and avocado shake is calle d sinh tố bơ (butter fruit shake). Indonesians, who may add coffee or chocolate syrup, know it as es apokat. Filipinos prepare it as well, though they make avocado ice cream too. Avocado shakes are also popular in Brazil.

These shakes are on the menu of many Vietnamese American delis and cafe — basically wherever you buy bánh mí sandwiches or go for phở noodle soup. They’re extremely rich, so I like to divide them up among small glasses and share them. The thickness is practically pudding-like so use a spoon to enjoy it best.

Hass avocados are what most people know and its flesh is deliciously fatty and supple. But there are hundreds, if not thousands of avocado cultivars grown all over the world. To the right is a Hass still on the tree.

The French introduced avocados to Vietnam, which explains why in Vietnamese, avocados are called trái bơ (pronounced “try buh”; tráimeans fruit, bơ is Viet pidgin for beurre). In the name of the shake,trái is omitted from the name because we assume that it would be made from avocado and not butter.  Below is an avocado display at a Saigon smoothie shop in the Dakao part of town.

Makes about about 2 1/4 cups, enough to serve 2 or 3

1 ripe medium avocado (6–8 ounces)

1 cup ice (8 ice cubes)

1/3 cup sweetened condensed milk

1/4 to 1/2 cup milk

Scoop the avocado flesh into a blender. Add the remaining ingredients, starting out with the least amount of milk and puree until completely smooth. Taste and add additional milk, depending on the avocado type and if a thinner consistency is desired.

Notes:

Some people use a combination of condensed milk (e.g., ¼ cup) and add sugar (1 to 2 tablespoons) to taste. It’s really up to you.

The shake tastes better (the buttery, grassy avocado flavor becomes more pronounced) if it sits for a bit, say 10 to 15 minutes in the fridge. I’ve left it to sit in the fridge for 24 hours and it was okay. At 48 hours, there was discoloration at the top and the flavor dwindled a bit. had it sit for as long as 21/2 hours.

For the Indonesian version, Southeast Asian food expert and Saveur magazine Editor-in-Chief James Oseland tells me that Hershey’s syrup is the secret. Before the shake is poured into a glass, the syrup is poured around the wall of the glass so that it drips down. Pretty wild, huh?

Hmong Cucumber Mint Cooler

If you are keen on Asian produce at the farmers’ markets, you’re likely buying from Hmong farmers.  They are amazing cultivators of the land and have transported their agricultural skills from Southeast Asia to America. In California, our Hmong farmers raise crops inland where it’s super hot and more suitable for Asian crops such as eggplant, long beans, and chiles.

I learn a lot from talking to the Hmong farmers who come to our Saturday morning farmers’ market at Cabrillo College. They are a young couple named Tra Her and Kou Moua who together make KT Farms. Tra is a school teacher who on the weekends works multiple markets with her husband Kou. Other family members show up at the Friday afternoon market in nearby Watsonville.

I’ve been buying from KT Farms since they first came to our market about 6 years ago. I want to support their business and selfishly insure a supply of super fresh Asian produce.

Hmong farmers grow all kinds of Asian vegetables and herbs. You may not know what to do with some of the stuff so ask questions!

Richard Molinar and Michael Yang at the UC Coop Extension office in Fresno put together a nice online guide to Asian vegetables. It’s super helpful to farmers and customers alike.

Last weekend at the market, I spied a big pill-shaped melon (it looked like a gigantic oblong lemon cucumber) that Tra had cut open to show customers. She is a school teacher and knows how important show-and-tell is.

• 
• 

John Xiong, a Fresno Hmong farmer whom I wrote about for a 2007 Saveur magazine story, once gave me a refreshing drink made from a fruit that he called a cucumber. I’d forgotten what it looked like so I asked Tra if what she had was a Hmong cucumber for making the drink.

“Yes, this is it. Just scrape it with a fork and mix with sugar,” she said, making the scraping motion with her hand.

I went home and attacked the melon with a fork and came up with a beverage that I dubbed Hmong and cucumber mint cooler. The mint is my twist to give the chunky beverage an herbal note. Rory, my husband, was doubtful at first, but once he sipped it, he was sold on its delicate flavor and cooling qualities.  “It’s like a great spa treatment,” he said.

Here’s a recipe for how to make your own:

Hmong Cucumber and Mint Cooler

Hmong cucumber is halfway between a cucumber and a melon. It doesn’t taste like much on its own until you add sugar. Then it is transformed.  Without a Hmong cucumber, use honeydew melon.

Yield depends on the size of your cucumber!

One whole or a half Hmong cucumber

Sugar

5 to 8 large mint leaves

Ice

Filtered Water

1. Halve the cucumber lengthwise, in needed. Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds.

2. Use the tines of a fork to scrape out the flesh, depositing them in a bowl. Try to get down to the cucumber skin. Discard when there is little flesh left. The flesh will be in pale green pieces. (If you want a smoothie-like texture, puree the flesh in a blender before moving on.)

3. Measure how much flesh you have. For every cup, stir in 2 1/2 to 3 tablespoons sugar and 3 or 4 mint leaves. Your stirring will dissolve the sugar and bruise the mint.  Don’t be alarmed as the cucumber flesh gives off some bubbles. Taste to make sure there is a pronounced sweet flavor.

4. For each 1 cup of flesh, add 1/2 cup water, stirring to combine. Serve over ice, stirring a few times to chill the mixture. (Alternatively, chill the mixture and then serve it over ice.) Present this cooler with a spoon for guests to eat the flesh.

Have you had this drink or ones similar to it? If you’re familiar with Hmong cucumber, what do you do with it?