Vietnamese

Wrap slider-sized pork patties in tender lettuce leaves and serve with plenty of spicy sauce on the side for dipping.

Pickled veggies give this burger low-cal crunch and sweet-and-sour zing.

This unbelievable stir-fry is a cut way above your average one-wok wonder. Epicurious member Thomas Spears of Worcester, Massachusetts, puts his own spin on a classic combination of Southeast Asian flavors—lemongrass, turmeric, and fish sauce—with the richness of caramelized sugar. Feel free to temper the heat by using fewer Thai chiles. The quality of the fish sauce makes all the difference here. Spears notes, “I prefer the brand Thanh Ha Chanh Hieu Phu Quoc nuoc mam, based on its lower salt content and what I believe to have great flavor.” Another tip: when slicing the lemongrass, flatten it with the back of your knife to release some extra flavor.

This is a simple way to prepare whole fish, yet one that few Western cooks have mastered. In the Vietnamese culture, a properly steamed fish is a benchmark for chefs, and those who can't do it right are considered to be bad cooks. A perfectly steamed fish has flesh that is just cooked at the bone, never dry. Typically, whole fish are not served with the liquid in which it was steamed, which is too fishy tasting, and any sauce is added at the end, after the fish has been cooked. In this classic Chinese preparation, the fish is topped with scallions, cilantro and ginger, then doused with hot oil, which releases the flavor of the aromatics into the flesh of the fish.

Dried rice noodles are readily available, but homemade fresh noodles are a fun project. If you've ever made the light pastry dough known as pâte à choux (the base for gougères and profiteroles), the first step to making the noodle dough will be familiar. The flour and water are mixed together, then cooked on the stove top until thick (this step also cooks out the raw-flour taste). This is a two-person operation: once the paste thickens, one person will need to hold the pot down while the other stirs continuously. You will need a potato ricer for extruding the spaghetti-like noodles. The flavor of these noodles improves if you let the initial rice flour-water mixture ferment at room temperature for four days. While not essential to the success of the recipes, it does lend a nice tanginess to the finished noodles. However, if you are in a rush, you can let it soak overnight. The noodles can be used in Bún Bò Hue or as the base for noodle bowls.

This flavorful lemongrass marinade is pretty common in Vietnam, where it's used on thin pork chops that are quickly grilled over a hot fire. Because the marinade has a lot of sugar, grilling the meat is the only way to go. If you try to pan-fry the pork chops, the sugar will burn before the meat is cooked through. These chops are best grilled over a two-zone fire. Start the meat on the hot side of the grill, which will sear the meat and begin to caramelize the sugar in the marinade, then move them to the cooler side to cook them through. The combination of salty and sweet is pretty irresistible, and the hand-chopped lemongrass adds fragrance and texture. I like to serve the pork with bowls of rice or vermicelli noodles. Use the best pork you can get, and don't trim off all of the fat. It helps baste the chops as they cook.

The mention of Hue, a city in central Vietnam, brings up many conflicted memories for me. It was the site of the Battle of Hue, one of the longest and deadliest battles of the Tet Offensive, which began in January 1968, and of the Vietnam War. Although I was just a kid when the fighting took place, the stories that I heard about it during my childhood were frightening. Hue was the imperial capital of Vietnam for nearly a century and a half, until 1945, and many of the most sophisticated and interesting dishes in the Vietnamese repertoire originated in the region, including this classic spicy beef soup. The light stock, which is made with beef and pork bones, is scented with lots of lemongrass and shrimp paste. Any rice noodle can be used here, but the usual choice is the round rice noodle that resembles spaghetti. In Vietnam, the soup is often served with cubes of coagulated pig's blood, like the bowl pictured here.

Crispy fried shallots are an essential condiment in Vietnam. They turn up in soups and on salads, sprinkled onto dumplings as a garnish, and minced and added to meatballs. Crispy, sweet, and salty, they are indispensible. You may want to make double batches, as people have a hard time resisting the urge to snack on them. Strain the oil you used to fry the shallots and use it in other recipes or to fry more shallots. The strained oil, called shallot oil, will keep, refrigerated, for several weeks. The shallots should be used the same day they are fried.

Once you know how much condensed milk you like, pour it directly into the cup or glass before you brew the coffee.

Thai chiles are small, fresh red or green chiles, and are very hot. For a milder flavor, remove the seeds. You can substitute 1 fresh serrano chile. The flavors of Southeast Asia were the inspiration for these lean burgers, which are wrapped, Vietnamese-style, in lettuce.

The stock must be refrigerated at least 6 hours; make it 1 day ahead.

A pleasing composition using a minimum of exotic ingredients, this traditional Asian dish becomes somewhat offbeat through the use of fresh tomatoes and basil.

My love of rice paper began in childhood with candies that came packaged in colorful boxes, mostly pinkish and with children pictured gleefully jumping. Inside were gummy candies, chewable like jujubes, only softer. The fun part was unwrapping the outer paper and getting to the inside wrapping. At first it seemed like another layer of paper, a bit stiff like cellophane. But then you would pop the candy into your mouth and let the wrapping hydrate until soft enough to chew. I always found it a thrill “eating” my way from seemingly inedible paper to edible candy. So it is with rice paper wrappers for Vietnamese spring rolls” What seems at first glance a large plastic disk not for consumption, with hydration becomes supple enough to enfold all manner of comestibles.

Squab is the best bird for this—in fact it’s one of the best eating birds there is—but it’s expensive and not easy to come by. If you use quail instead, you’ll need eight birds (one is not enough for even a light eater). If you use Cornish game hens, you’ll need only two. Note the simple finishing “sauce” of salt and pepper mixed together. In Vietnam, this is more common than salt alone. See page 500 for information on fish sauces like nam pla and nuoc mam.

Dark, glazed, and bittersweet, this is another marvel of simple cooking from Southeast Asia. It takes no longer than a classic European chicken sauté, yet when you make it you will impress not only your guests but yourself. You can stop after step 2 and have a Thai-style dish, which is good, or proceed to step 3 and have one of the best Vietnamese-style chicken dishes you’ve ever tasted. Either way, serve with rice. For information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla), see page 500.

Though you occasionally see this technique in other cuisines, I know of nowhere but Vietnam where caramelized sugar is used as the basis for a savory sauce in such a wide variety of dishes. You see it with pork, beef, shrimp, finfish, chicken, and even frog. You see it in fancy urban restaurants and in rural three-sided structures. Completed by plenty of onions and black pepper, the result is wickedly forceful, decidedly delicious, and, in the sauce’s dark brown glossiness, downright gorgeous, an astonishing creation given the number of ingredients and the time it requires. See page 500 for information on Asian fish sauces like nam pla. Other cuts of meat you can use here: boneless chicken thighs, pork steaks cut from the loin—both of which will require longer cooking times—or any fish or shrimp (see Fish Fillets Poached in Caramel Sauce, page 232). Sticky Rice (page 508) is not entirely traditional here, but it’s great, as is any other plain rice dish. A strong-flavored salad (like Green Papaya Salad, page 198, but without the shrimp) would round things out perfectly.

This dish is popular throughout Southeast Asia (I had it in Vietnam), where firm-fleshed river fish are plentiful. Carp is an excellent choice for freshwater fish, as is wild catfish (I’m not a fan of farmed catfish), but red snapper or sea bass is also good. Lime leaves are not always available; substitute grated lime zest if necessary. See page 500 for information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla). This would be great with Green Papaya Salad (without the shrimp, page 198).

There were two things I couldn’t get enough of in Vietnam: crunchy lemongrass dishes and caramel sauce dishes. Here’s one of the latter, in which the caramel sauce—essentially melted sugar, which becomes oddly bitter while retaining its sticky sweetness as it browns—is used to poach the fish. Make sure you use lots of black pepper, which is one of the characteristic seasonings of Vietnam, and serve this unusual, delicious dish with Basic Long-Grain Rice (page 506). Information on Thai fish sauce (nam pla) is on page 500.

The first time I had this salad—it was in Saigon—I ate so much of it I could barely eat anything else. So, obviously, you can make it as a main course (serve it with rice). Technically, it’s a starter and a great use for leftover steak. For a traditional, unusual, and wonderful Thai version, toss the beef with 1/4 cup Khao Koor powder (page 587) before dressing. For information on nam pla, see page 500.

The ideal herb for seasoning this salad is rau ram, which is not impossible to find if a well-stocked Asian store or supermarket is in your area; you can pick up your Thai fish sauce (page 500) while you’re there. The best alternative is a combination of cilantro and mint, which comes pretty close. If you don’t have precooked chicken, just simmer chicken breasts (bone-in are best) in water to cover for 10 to 15 minutes. When the meat is done, pull it from the bone (continue cooking the bones, perhaps with a few vegetables like carrots and onions, to make stock) and chop or shred.

Not surprisingly—Vietnamese food is only occasionally hot—this isn’t as blistering as the vegetarian Thai version on page 174. You can buy Vietnamese chili garlic paste at any store selling Asian ingredients; it keeps nearly forever in the refrigerator. Fish sauces like nam pla and nuoc mam are discussed on page 500. Palm sugar is available at many Asian markets, but brown sugar is indistinguishable in flavor.

The vegetables in Vietnam are as beautiful as any I’ve ever seen, and, because there was still little refrigeration when I visited the country, they were fresher than most. This might explain why I enjoyed the simple vegetable stir-fries so much. Then again, it may be the nam pla—or, to use the Vietnamese term, nuoc mam. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: you can use whatever vegetables you like here—you want a total of three to four cups for four people—as long as you follow the basic principles of stir-frying (page 311).

Start with stock, use just about the same seasoning asin regular pho (preceding recipe), and substitute quick-cooking meatballs for chuck. The result is a relatively fast pho with all the flavor of its slow-cooked big brother. See page 500 for information on nam pla, Thai fish sauce.