Snacking is a much-loved pastime in Southeast Asia and the preparation of street foods is high art. In larger towns and cities, street foods are available at almost any hour of the day or night, and even in rural areas, even in the smallest village, there is seldom a time when there isn’t a snack to be had. Southeast Asia is a snacker’s paradise and we love it all, the savory and the sweet, the ingenious combinations of both.
Here we’ve included recipes for some of our favorite savory snacks and street foods that we think also translate easily into the North American kitchen (sweet snacks are in the next chapter). Some are flavor bundles that guests can nibble (or devour) as they sip drinks and wait to sit down for a meal. These wrapped treats are part of a Lao tradition of miang, or small wrapped foods: A highly flavored filling, often with meat and distinctive spicing, is wrapped in a leaf of lettuce or other green, topped with fresh herbs, drizzled with a little sauce, and then rolled up and eaten in one or two quick mouthfuls. Hot and Spicy Leaf Wraps (page 264) and Beef and Lettuce Roll-ups (page 268) are best served on a platter as roll-your-own treats, because that way they’re flexible, allowing each guest to flavor mouthfuls to taste.
Other street foods, like Vietnamese Savory Crepes (page 280) or the familiar and delicious Classic Vietnamese Spring Rolls (page 274), can be served as an appetizer course or as part of a meal, with salad greens, herbs, and rice or noodles. Here too we’ve included sandwiches—we call them Mekong subs—made with the French-style bread that is a legacy of the French colonial years in Indochina. Like any good snack, they’re flexible, flavorful, and easy to eat at any hour.
Like mangoes, papayas are eaten both as a vegetable (when green) spiked with salt and chiles, and as a fruit (when ripe).
A young Akha woman snacks at the morning market in northern Laos.
A street vendor sits for most of the day assembling GREEN-WRAPPED FLAVOR BUNDLES (page 269) and selling them to passersby.
HOT AND SPICY LEAF WRAPS
We once helped a young Thai woman and her mother learn how to make bread. They were running a little restaurant in Nathon, on the island of Koh Samui, and wanted to serve sandwiches. They also wanted to learn how to make peanut butter, for many of the young foreign tourists coming to the island were asking for bread and peanut butter.
We spent a great afternoon with them making bread, grinding fresh peanut butter, and chatting. Then we all sat down and snacked on miang kham, a delicious little snack from northeast Thailand that we’d never eaten before. They showed us how to put a little roasted coconut on a leaf and top it with a pinch each of ginger, lime, chile, dried shrimp, roasted peanuts, and coriander leaves, then drizzle on the thick salty-sweet sauce, roll up the bundle, and pop it into our mouths. Mouthful after mouthful, we experimented with different proportions of hot and sweet, salty and sour, each time loving the array of bursting flavors as we bit into a bundle.
Since then we’ve run across miang kham in Bangkok as well as in homes in rural Issaan (northeastern Thailand). The sauce ingredients differ from place to place, but the sauce is always salty and sweet; the piles of filling ingredients seldom vary.
This makes a great appetizer for a party or a group of friends.
1 tablespoon shrimp paste
1 tablespoon dried shrimp, minced
2 tablespoons minced shallots
1 tablespoon chopped galangal, or substitute 1 teaspoon minced ginger
Pinch of salt
½ cup Dry-Roasted Grated Coconut (page 308)
1 cup water
½ cup palm sugar, or substitute brown sugar
Thai fish sauce or salt to taste
FILLING INGREDIENTS
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice, mixed with 2 tablespoons water (optional)
3 tablespoons peeled and cubed ginger, preferably young ginger
¼ cup chopped shallots
1½ cups Dry-Roasted Grated Coconut (page 308)
½ cup Dry-Roasted Peanuts (page 308), coarsely chopped
½ cup dried shrimp
1 lime, cut into tiny wedges or cubes (including peel)
1 cup coriander leaves
3 tablespoons minced bird or serrano chiles
2 heads Bibb lettuce, well washed, dried, and separated into leaves (or 25 to 30 pepper leaves, if available)
Spread the shrimp paste on a piece of foil wrap about 8 inches by 4 inches, fold it over and seal, then flatten. Place in a hot skillet and dry roast, pressing the package against the hot pan, for about 2 minutes. Turn over and repeat on the other side, then remove from the heat and set aside.
Place the dried shrimp, shallots, galangal or ginger, and salt in a mortar or blender and pound or grind to a paste. Add the shrimp paste and coconut and blend well.
Heat the water in a small nonreactive saucepan and stir in the flavor paste. Add the sugar and stir to dissolve. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer until the mixture thickens, about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat. Taste and add fish sauce or salt if you wish; the sauce should be sweet and salty. (The sauce can be made ahead and then stored, once cooled, in the refrigerator. Before serving, warm it slightly to loosen it.)
If you have time, place the lime juice and water mixture in a small bowl, add the chopped ginger, and let stand for 5 to 10 minutes. Remove the ginger and place the chopped shallots in the lime juice mixture for 5 to 10 minutes, then drain. This will help prevent the ginger and shallots from discoloring as they sit out on the platter.
Arrange the filling ingredients in attractive piles on a large platter: Put the grated coconut (since it’s a larger pile than the others) in the center, either directly on the platter or in a bowl. Place a platter or large bowl of the leaf lettuce nearby. Put out several bowls of the sauce, each with a small spoon to use for drizzling the sauce on the bundles.
Show your guests how to assemble a flavor package (see Headnote), then leave them to it.
SERVES 6 to 8 as an appetizer
Salad greens displayed in a village market in Laos.
At the market in Sri Chiang Mai (see page 206), Vietnamese specialties are sold alongside Thai and Lao street foods.
Like miang kham (page 264), this savory snack makes a great appetizer. All the ingredients are set out on a platter, ready to be rolled up into lettuce leaf packets. Guests take a leaf of lettuce, spoon a little beef onto it, and add a pinch or so of each of the other fillings, to taste. Then they spoon on a drizzle of the hot-sour-sweet sauce, roll up the leaf to make a packet, and eat with pleasure.
FILLING INGREDIENTS
½ pound boneless lean beef (such as tenderloin or sirloin), cut into ½-inch cubes
½ cup canned or fresh coconut milk (see page 315)
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup Dry-Roasted Peanuts (page 308), coarsely chopped
3 tablespoons peeled and cubed ginger, preferably young ginger
½ cup chopped shallots
1 lime, cut into tiny wedges or cubes (including peel)
1 cup chopped mint or celery leaves
2 tablespoons minced bird or serrano chiles
2 medium heads tender leaf lettuce or Bibb lettuce, washed, dried, and separated into leaves
SAUCE (SEE NOTE)
1 bird or serrano chile, minced (or use 2 for more heat)
¼ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
½ cup sour orange juice, or substitute ¼ cup regular orange juice mixed with ¼ cup lime juice
2 tablespoons Dry-Roasted Peanuts (page 308), very finely chopped
Place the beef in a heavy pot with the coconut milk and salt. Bring to a gentle boil, reduce the heat and then simmer, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Transfer to a shallow bowl and set out on the table with a small serving spoon. Arrange the remaining filling ingredients in piles on a platter. Put the lettuce leaves on the platter or in a shallow bowl to one side.
To prepare the sauce, place the chile in a mortar with the salt and pound to a paste, then transfer to a bowl and stir in the sugar and juice. Or finely mince the chile, place in a bowl, and stir in the salt, sugar, and juice. Just before serving, stir the peanuts into the sauce. Taste and adjust the seasonings if you wish. Transfer to one or more condiment bowls and set out on the table with several small spoons so guests can drizzle sauce onto their roll-ups.
Show your guests how to assemble a roll-up, then invite them to try.
SERVES 6 as an appetizer
NOTE: You can instead use ½ cup Hot and Sweet Dipping Sauce (page 199), with the addition of 2 tablespoons finely chopped Dry-Roasted Peanuts.
Each day we’d pass a smiling woman street vendor who sat deftly rolling up these flavor bundles by the Mekong in Luang Prabang. It was always a pleasure to stop briefly for several good mouthfuls before continuing on our way. Serve these as an appetizer or as part of a meal.
FILLING
½ pound boneless lean pork (such as fresh ham or loin) or lean ground pork
1 tablespoon tamarind pulp, dissolved in ¼ cup warm water
3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil or pork lard
½ cup chopped shallots
3 tablespoons minced garlic
2 tablespoons palm sugar, or substitute brown sugar
1 or 2 tablespoons Thai fish sauce, or to taste
½ to 1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1 tablespoon minced ginger
2 tablespoons Dry-Roasted Peanuts (page 308), finely chopped
WRAPPING AND TOPPING
About 30 pieces Pickled Cabbage, Thai Style (page 311 or store-bought) or Bibb lettuce or tender leaf lettuce leaves (or pepper leaves, if available)
1 stalk lemongrass, trimmed and minced
2 tablespoons minced ginger
2 to 3 scallions, trimmed and minced
½ cup chopped coriander leaves and stems
If not using ground pork, cut the pork into thin slices, then stack the slices, cut into strips, and then cut crosswise into cubes. Use a cleaver to mince the pork to a reasonably even consistency. Set aside.
Place a sieve over a bowl and press the dissolved tamarind through the sieve; discard the pulp. Set the tamarind juice aside.
Heat a wok over high heat. Add the oil or lard, and, when it is hot, add the shallots and garlic. Stir-fry until golden, then add the pork and stir-fry until it has all changed color, about 4 minutes. Add the sugar, the reserved tamarind juice, the fish sauce, and salt and cook until the liquids have almost evaporated, about 5 minutes. Add the ginger and peanuts and stir-fry for another minute. The mixture should be the consistency of paste and somewhat salty tasting. Adjust seasonings if you wish. Remove from the wok and let cool. You will have about 1½ cups filling. (The filling can be made ahead and stored in a sealed container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.)
To make a flavor package, put a leaf of pickled cabbage or lettuce on the palm of one hand, then scoop up a scant tablespoon of the filling and place it on the leaf. Sprinkle on a pinch of minced lemongrass, a little ginger, a pinch of scallions, and another of coriander. Fold the leaf over to make a bundle, or leave it open, like a filled cup, and place on a platter. Repeat with the remaining ingredients and greens. Or instead, serve these roll-your-own style: Show your guests how to assemble a bundle, then invite them to serve themselves.
MAKES about 2 dozen flavor bundles
NOTE: The flavored filling also makes a great topping for noodles, with or without broth (see Morning Market Noodles, page 138). You could also use it as a filling for Saigon Subs (page 287).
These yummy treats are sold in village markets in Issaan (northeastern Thailand), early in the morning, before sunrise, as mist comes off the river in the pink dawn. People buy them in batches of ten, with a separate bag of condiments, toppings, and leafy greens, and take them home for eating later.
Sakhoo sai moo are small round steamed dumplings made with a simple tapioca dough and filled with a savory pork mixture. They’re a beautiful translucent white when cooked, and they can be made several hours ahead, for they’re best served not hot, but at room temperature. (They also freeze well, so you can make them days in advance, then resteam them to defrost them before serving.)
Serve them as a snack or an appetizer. Steamed pork dumplings are always served with hot chiles, fried garlic, and fresh herbs, so you can wrap each one, with the extra flavorings, in a small leaf of lettuce and make a delicious couple of mouthfuls. The tapioca dough is a little chewy, yet soft; the filling has crunch and a seductive sweet-salt taste.
14 ounces small Asian-style tapioca pearls
2 cups boiling water
½ pound boneless lean pork (such as fresh ham or trimmed shoulder)
3 tablespoons vegetable or peanut oil 2 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced coriander roots
¼ cup finely chopped salted radish, rinsed and drained
¾ cup finely chopped Dry-Roasted Peanuts (page 308)
2 tablespoons Thai fish sauce
3 tablespoons palm sugar, or substitute brown sugar
½ tablespoon coarsely ground black pepper
Banana or cabbage leaves to line the steamers
GARNISH
1 medium head leaf or Bibb lettuce, washed, dried, and separated into leaves, large leaves torn in half
About 1 tablespoon Garlic Oil (page 310)
2 to 3 tablespoons Fried Garlic (page 310) or Fried Shallots (page 310)
¼ cup coriander or mint leaves
2 tablespoons chopped bird or serrano chiles
Place the tapioca in a medium bowl and gradually add the water, stirring. Knead to a smooth paste, then cover with plastic wrap and set aside for 1 to 1½ hours.
Meanwhile, very thinly slice the pork into strips (this is easier if the meat is cold) and then cut crosswise into very small cubes; set aside.
Heat the oil in a wok or large heavy skillet and, when it is hot, toss in the garlic and coriander roots. Stir-fry until the garlic starts to turn golden, about 15 seconds, then toss in the pork. Stir-fry until all the pork has changed color, about 3 minutes. Add the radish, peanuts, fish sauce, sugar, and pepper and stir-fry briefly until the sugar has melted and the ingredients are blended. Set aside to cool.
When ready to proceed, line two steamer racks with banana or cabbage leaves and oil the leaves lightly. Cut the tapioca dough in half. Work with one half at a time, leaving the remaining dough covered with plastic wrap.
On a lightly oiled work surface, roll the dough back and forth under your palms into a smooth cylinder about 12 inches long and 1½ inches in diameter. Slice crosswise in half, then cut each half into 8 slices.
With lightly oiled hands, on the lightly oiled surface, flatten a slice of dough to a disk about 1½ inches in diameter. Lay it on the palm of one hand and place a slightly heaping teaspoon of the filling in the center. Wrap the dough over the filling, then pinch the ends and roll in your palm to shape a ball. If the dough cracks, don’t worry, it’s easy to patch and will be fine. The first few shaping attempts may feel awkward because the dough is not very pliable, but the work goes quickly, and as the dough cooks, it will seal any holes.
Place the ball on a steamer rack. Repeat with the remaining dough and filling, making sure the balls are not touching each other on the rack.
Once one steamer rack is full, place it over water in a pot or wok and bring to a boil. Cover and steam for 10 to 15 minutes, until the dough is translucent and tender. Remove from the steamer and set aside while you assemble and cook the remaining dumplings. (The dumplings can be made ahead and left at room temperature for up to 2 hours.)
To serve, arrange the balls on a serving plate lined with lettuce leaves and sprinkle on a little garlic oil, then top with the fried garlic or fried shallots. On another plate, arrange a pile of the remaining leaf lettuce, the coriander or mint leaves, and the chopped bird chiles.
To eat, wrap a dumpling, some coriander or mint, and a little chile in a lettuce leaf. Each dumpling makes two or three very flavorful mouthfuls.
MAKES 32 dumplings; serves 6 to 8
NOTE: To freeze leftover dumplings, place in a plastic container (we use large yogurt containers), cover, and freeze. Don’t pack the balls in too tightly, and be sure to discard any lettuce or other greens. You can take them out of the freezer several hours ahead or at the last minute; either way, you’ll want to resteam the dumplings. Place them in a steamer rack above boiling water and steam until tender, about 10 minutes (take one from the steamer and cut it open to check that the center has reached room temperature). Serve as described above, at room temperature, with the accompaniments for wrapping and flavoring.
An alert little face, a gravelly voice, clean clothes on an undernourished half-grown frame, dirty bare legs and feet, this was Bich. She traveled with a sidekick, an even smaller girl. Bich was ten years old. She picked me up one day in Chau Doc, tried to sell me lottery tickets, and then just hung around. Some of the people in the market would give her food; others chased her harshly, aiming the odd blow. She had a mother and no father. She wasn’t in school, because it costs a little. Anyway, she needed to be earning money and scrounging food to feed herself during the day.
She could count, and knew what value each dong note had, but at some point I realized that she couldn’t read numbers. Over several glasses of soda and several days, using whatever fragments of Vietnamese I could scratch up, I tried to teach her to match the shapes of the numbers from 1 to 10 to meaning. Every once in a while I bought some lottery tickets from her.
My last morning in Chau Doc, I ran into Bich at the market. I told her I was leaving and asked her to join me for a drink. We sat down and ordered, then I gave her some money and a pen and a small pad of paper so she could practice her numbers. She sat tall in her chair, looking pleased, rattling the ice in her glass as she stirred her soda with a straw between sips. Soon it was time to go. I caught the proprietor’s eye. Bich waved her hand imperiously, stopping me. She pulled out the money I’d given her and handed some over to pay for the drinks. She was firm, unpersuadable, awe-inspiring.
A small Khmer boy stands holding a string of heavily aromatic frangipani flowers in a fishing village on the Tonle Sap, near Siam Reap.
CLASSIC VIETNAMESE SPRING ROLLS, with VIETNAMESE MUST-HAVE TABLE SAUCE (nuoc cham, page 28).
In Vietnam, deep-fried spring rolls are mostly market and restaurant food. They can be made small or long, but either way, they’re eaten in the hand, wrapped in a lettuce leaf with some fresh herbs, served occasionally with vinegared carrots and cold cooked rice noodles.
You can assemble the rolls several hours ahead and refrigerate until you are ready to deep-fry. Once fried and drained on paper towels, they can be reheated in the oven or in hot oil.
Use either small round rice paper wrappers or wedge-shaped wrappers if you can. We like Red Rose brand best. If you can only find large wrappers, you will be making longer rolls, and fewer of them.
FILLING
½ pound ground pork
2 ounces peeled and deveined medium shrimp, briefly rinsed and finely chopped (about ½ cup)
½ medium onion (or large shallot), finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 to 3 shallots, minced
½ cup finely chopped jicama or carrot (optional)
1 ounce cellophane noodles, soaked in warm water for 20 minutes, drained, and cut into 1-inch lengths with scissors (just over ½ cup)
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons Vietnamese fish sauce
40 small round rice papers (about 5 inches across) or wedge-shaped papers, or substitute ten 8-inch round rice papers
Peanut oil for deep-frying
ACCOMPANIMENTS
½ pound thin dried rice noodles, soaked in warm water for 20 minutes, drained, cooked in boiling water for about 2 minutes, and then drained, rinsed with cold water, and drained again (optional)
Vietnamese Herb and Salad Plate (page 68), with plenty of lettuce leaves
1½ cups Vietnamese Must-Have Table Sauce (nuoc cham, page 28)
Place the pork in a medium bowl, add all the other filling ingredients, and mix very well. You will have about 2 cups of filling. Set aside. (You can prepare the filling ahead and store in a well-sealed container in the refrigerator for up to 12 hours.)
Set out two large plates or a flat tray. Wet a tea towel well, then wring out and place on your work surface. Fill a wide bowl or basin with 2 inches of warm water. (Or, fill with 1 inch beer and add 1 inch hot water, to make a warm mixture; see Notes.)
If using small round papers or wedges, immerse a paper in the warm soaking liquid until well softened, then lay on the damp tea towel (place the wedge with the point facing away from you). Place a generous teaspoon of the filling onto the paper in a 2-inch-long line near and parallel to the round edge nearest you. Roll that edge over the filling, then fold over the sides of the rice paper and roll up tightly. Place the finished roll on the plate or tray, seam side down, and cover with a damp cloth. Repeat for the remaining rolls.
If using large papers, wet 1 paper thoroughly until softened, then place on the damp tea towel. Place a scant 2 tablespoons filling in a line about 5 inches long across the wrapper, well below the midline, leaving a ¾-inch border at either end of the line. Fold the edge nearest you over the filling, fold over the sides of the rice paper, and roll up tightly. Place on the plate or tray, cover with a damp cloth, and repeat with the remaining papers and filling.
(The rolls can be assembled up to 3 hours ahead and stored, well-sealed, in the refrigerator.)
When ready to fry, set out several racks or large plates lined with paper towels, and have extra paper towels ready. Also set out a slotted spoon. Place two stable woks or large heavy skillets over medium-high heat. (You can use only one, of course; it will just take longer.) Add peanut oil to a depth of about 1 inch in each wok at its deepest point or ¾ inch in the skillets, and heat until hot. (Use slightly more oil if frying longer or larger rolls.) Test the temperature by dropping a piece of moistened rice paper into the oil. It should sink and then immediately rise back up slowly, without darkening. If it darkens and rises up quickly, the oil is too hot; lower the temperature slightly if necessary. We find a setting somewhere between medium and medium-high to be ideal.
Add the rolls one at a time to the pans, being careful not to splash yourself with hot oil, without crowding; make sure the rolls aren’t touching. (You will probably have to make two batches at least, even if using two large skillets or woks.) After you add the rolls to the oil, they will hiss vigorously as they release moisture into the hot oil, then they’ll bubble and the rice paper will change texture. Use a spatula to turn the rolls so they cook evenly, but be gentle with them so you don’t tear the skins. Cook for 7 to 10 minutes, until golden all over, then use the slotted spoon to transfer to a paper towel–lined rack or plate. Repeat with the remaining rolls.
Arrange the cooked noodles, if using, and the salad plate on one or more platters, so guests can serve themselves as they wish. Or, arrange an individual plate of noodles and salad ingredients for each guest. Put the table sauce in individual condiment bowls so each person has a personal dipping sauce. Serve the rolls on one or more plates; if serving long rolls, cut in half or into thirds.
MAKES about 40 small rolls or 10 long rolls; serves 6 to 8
NOTES: Everyone has his or her tricks and theories about how to make a perfect Vietnamese spring roll. When we asked the chef-owners at our favorite local restaurant Pho Hung, in Toronto, for their advice, they told us that they use beer to moisten the rice papers. It helps make the paper crisp when it fries, they said. But, as they pointed out, in Vietnam beer is too expensive, so people just use water. We’ve tried soaking in plain water and in beer, and both work well; over time, we’ve come to think the beer might give a slightly crisper and more golden result, but it’s a close call.
We’ve also read recipes that advise putting sugar in the soaking water. We’ve tried it and didn’t like it; it made the rolls too dark. (When asked about sugar water, the people at the Pho Hung shook their heads: “Bad idea,” they said firmly.)
Sometimes the paper bubbles and boils in the oil as it fries, making blisters; this is not a problem. And even if you overcook the rolls a bit, they’re still very good.
You can also use the restaurant approach to deep-frying spring rolls: Fry the rolls lightly until an almost-done pale golden color, then take them out and drain well on a paper towel–covered rack. Just before serving, reheat your oil, then quickly fry them for a minute or two more so you can serve them hot and crisp.
That Panom, a small town on the Mekong in northeast Thailand, is famous throughout the country for its temple.
When we photographed this older woman harvesting rice in southern Vietnam, she had already lived through many changes and hardships: She was born under French colonial rule, then came the Japanese war followed by a period of peace, and then more years of war and loss and uncertainty, and finally, in 1975, the unification of Vietnam under the Hanoi government.
Anh is a cyclo driver, skinny and sinewy, like most of the breed. He has a little English and a lot of heart. He spends his days pedaling around Chau Doc (in southern Vietnam, just by the Cambodian border; see map, page 6) looking for fares and doing short hauls, especially to and from the market. He found me at the bus station, in the rain. I’d just arrived after a five-hour trip from Ho Chi Minh City, a little disoriented from all the slow, bumpy miles on the road, and without a clue about where to stay or what I’d find in town.
In the end, I spent a lot of my week in Chau Doc exploring outside town with Anh. We went on the river to visit floating fish farms, we traveled on a borrowed motorbike to the Cham villages across the river (see The People, page 9), where we saw large cool mosques and people weaving lengths of striped and checked cotton cloth in their houses. Some miles beyond the Cham villages, we came to a silk-weaving factory, with women and children working hard amid the clatter of old machinery. We also traveled out of town to visit the temples at Sam Mountain; from the top, we could see green rice fields stretching off westward into Cambodia, and the river, brown and swollen in the rainy season, cutting a wide path through the green.
One day, Anh took me home to meet his Cambodian-born Vietnamese wife. Over a small wood fire, they made a wonderful lunch: rice, sour soup, and slow-cooked sweet and salty fish. We ate with two of their children, all sitting on a bamboo mat in the main room of their small wood house. Then we sat quietly chatting in the drowsy warm afternoon, as the sun slanted in through the open doorway.
In many parts of the region, rivers are the main roads and boats the main mode of transportation. Here in central Vietnam, what looks like the population of an entire village travels home from a weekly market, loaded with shopping.
Banh xeo are often called Vietnamese crepes, but at first glance they look more like crispy filled omelets. The surprise is that although they are fine, pale yellow filled crepes, there is no egg in them whatsoever, and no wheat flour. Instead, the batter is made from soaked and ground mung beans (they’re golden yellow, hence the color), combined with coconut milk and some rice flour, like a cousin of a South Indian dosa. The batter is traditionally cooked on a hot well-oiled wok; the crepe is not turned over but instead steams under a lid, while the bottom gets crispy.
Though banh xeo are sometimes made in restaurants, usually with complicated fillings, some of the best we’ve tasted have been the simplest, made as street food at roadside stands. One of our favorites was the banh xeo we ate in Cantho in the Mekong Delta. The filling was mostly greens and herbs, with bean sprouts and a small dollop of chopped cooked shrimp. Another, even simpler, made by a street vendor in the old section of Luang Prabang, in Laos, was entirely vegetarian.
This recipe is for a basic banh xeo, crispy and delicious, a wonderful snack or a fun dish at a multidish meal.
Make the batter as long as a day ahead and then prepare the crepes short-order style, so they come to the table hot and crisp. Put the crepes out one at a time, as they come off the hot wok: Guests can help themselves from a serving plate, using chopsticks or serving spoons to lift pieces of crepe onto their plates.
Serve with plenty of tender lettuce leaves and fresh mint and basil, as directed below. To eat, use chopsticks (or a spoon and fork). Place a piece of banh xeo and an herb sprig, together with some shredded carrot and radish, on a lettuce leaf, then drizzle on a little sauce, roll up loosely, and enjoy.
CREPES
¼ cup yellow split mung beans, soaked in water for 30 minutes and drained
1½ cups canned or fresh coconut milk (see page 315)
½ cup water
1 cup rice flour
½ teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon ground turmeric (optional)
Vegetable oil for cooking
FILLINGS
3 cups bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
1 cup coarsely chopped coriander
1 cup minced scallions (4 to 5)
OPTIONAL FILLING
1½ cups Vietnamese Shrimp and Pork Stir-fry (page 188)
ACCOMPANIMENTS
2 large heads leaf lettuce or Bibb lettuce, washed, dried, and separated into leaves
2 cups Carrot and Daikon Pickled Salad (page 85) (optional)
Mint leaves and/or Asian basil leaves
2 cups Vietnamese Must-Have Table Sauce (nuoc cham, page 28) or Vegetarian Nuoc Cham (page 29)
Place the mung beans and coconut milk in a blender and process to a puree. Add the water and rice flour and process until smooth, then add the sugar, salt, and turmeric, if using, and process briefly. Place a fine sieve over a bowl and pour the batter through to strain out any lumps. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set aside in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, or up to 24 hours.
Before starting to cook, set out the fillings you will be using near your stovetop, as well as the plates on which you plan to serve the crepes and a lid for covering the wok during cooking. Arrange the fresh accompaniments on one or more platters, and set out the dipping sauce in individual condiment dishes.
Stir the batter for several minutes. It will have thickened in the refrigerator, but after stirring, it should be quite liquid, not thick and heavy. If necessary, add a little water to thin it. Place a large wok over high heat. When it is hot, add about 2 tablespoons oil, swirl to coat the wok well, and then pour off the oil (make sure no oil runs down the outside of the wok; wipe it off if it does). Place the wok back over high heat. (If using an electric stovetop, turn on another burner to medium heat.) Scoop up ⅓ cup of the batter and pour it into the wok. Lift the wok and tip it to swirl the batter around thinly into a circle about 8 inches in diameter. Place the wok back on the heat. There will be small bubbles and holes in your crepe; don’t worry—in fact, these give delicious crispy edges. Sprinkle some bean sprouts, coriander, and scallions onto one side of the crepe. If you wish, add a heaping tablespoon of the shrimp-pork mixture. Lower the heat to medium (or move the wok onto the burner set at medium), cover the wok, and let the crepe cook for about 3 minutes, until the edges are brown and the underside is crispy; the top, having steam-cooked, will be soft and pale yellow. Use your spatula to ease the edges of the crepe off the wok, then fold the crepe in half and slide it onto a waiting plate. Serve immediately, or wait until you’ve cooked two and serve them together.
Show your guests how to serve themselves, using chopsticks (or a spoon and fork) to help themselves to pieces of crepe (see Headnote for eating instructions).
Wipe the wok thoroughly with a well-oiled cloth or paper towel, then cook the remaining crepes. Once you are comfortable with the cooking technique, you may want to work with two woks at once, thus speeding up your production.
MAKES about 12 banh xeo, about 8 inches in diameter; serves 6 to 8
NOTES: Whoever is doing the cooking will be busy turning out crepes until the last of the batter has been cooked. The crepes are so much better, crispy and fresh-tasting, when hot from the wok, that your guests will love you, even as they miss your company while you’re cooking.
It’s important that your wok be lightly oiled, but that there not be too much oil. Excess oil will make the batter slip and slide when you pour it in, rather than spreading and cooking on the hot metal. If you’re having this problem, use a paper towel or cloth to wipe off excess oil. On the other hand, if the batter is too thick, it won’t spread as you tip and tilt the pan: Add a little water to thin it.
We were delighted to find flatbreads in Dali (in China’s Yunnan province; see map, page 6), breads baked in a small tandoor oven out in the street. Some were meat-filled, some plain, and some a little sweet. They came hot from the oven, made to order as we stood watching. They’re made by members of the large Hui (Chinese Muslim) community in Dali, a reminder of the cultural links between the Hui and Muslim cultures in Central Asia.
Oran, a student of Yunnanese culinary traditions (see Headnote, page 158), told us about a delicious variant on Hui flatbread. The bread is made in the same way as regular Hui tandoor bread, but it is filled with a little honeycomb and nutmeg before baking. We’ve worked with the idea, using liquid honey rather than comb honey, and freshly grated nutmeg. It’s delicious and surprising too. Oran had told us that these honey breads are particularly good with chile-hot dishes, or just dipped in a little chile paste. The sweetness of the honey balances the chile heat. He was right. Try them. Serve as a snack on their own or with a salsa, or serve to accompany Hui Beef Stew with Chick-peas and Anise (page 231) or other savory dishes.
2 ½ cups lukewarm water
1 teaspoon instant dry yeast
6 to 7 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon salt
About 5 tablespoons honey
½ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (optional)
Place the water in a large bowl and sprinkle on the yeast. Add 2 cups of the flour and stir, always in the same direction, until well mixed. Add another cup of flour and stir it in. Stir the batter 100 times in the same direction (to help develop the gluten strands), then, if it’s convenient, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set aside for 30 minutes to 3 hours in a cool place. (You can also just continue making the dough, if it suits your schedule better.)
Sprinkle the salt onto the dough and stir in. Add more flour, ½ cup at a time, always stirring in the same direction. As the dough gets heavier, you may have to turn and fold it rather than stirring to incorporate the flour. When the dough is too stiff to work with a spoon, flour a work surface generously and turn the dough out of the bowl. Let stand while you clean out the bowl and wipe it dry.
Knead the dough for 10 minutes, folding the dough over on itself, then turning it a quarter turn and repeating. Add flour to your work surface and hands as necessary to keep dough from sticking; use a dough scraper or knife to clean the surface of sticky bits of dough. Properly kneaded, the dough will be smooth and elastic.
Lightly oil the bread bowl, place the dough in the bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and put in a cool place to rise until doubled in volume, 2 to 3 hours, or overnight if you wish. (If the temperature in the house is warm [over 75°F], if rising overnight, refrigerate the dough, then bring back to room temperature at least 1 hour before proceeding.)
Preheat the oven to 500°F and place a baking stone or unglazed quarry tiles on a rack in the center to upper third of the oven. Make sure there is enough space (at least ½ inch) between the stone or tiles and the oven walls so that air can circulate freely.
Flour a work surface. Pull the dough away from the sides of the bowl, turn it out, and knead briefly. Using a sharp knife, divide the dough into 16 equal pieces. Shape each into a ball, cover with plastic wrap; and set aside for 20 minutes.
Place the honey in a medium bowl and stir in enough warm water to make it easily spreadable. Then stir in the optional nutmeg.
To shape the breads, work with two breads at a time, rolling out one and letting it rest for a moment while you roll out the other. Roll out the first ball of dough to a flattened round about 6 inches in diameter. Spread a teaspoon of honey on the round, leaving a clear narrow border all around. Fold the sides up over the honey, pleating the dough as necessary to cover it completely, like a filled pouch, then flatten the dough with a lightly floured palm; repair any gaps by pinching them together. Repeat with a second ball of dough. Then, using a rolling pin or your hands, roll or stretch each bread out to a flat round 6 to 7 inches in diameter. If the breads spring back, set aside to let the dough relax while you begin shaping the next two breads, then return to them in 2 or 3 minutes.
Prick each bread lightly 4 or 5 times with a fork and place on the hot tiles or baking stone. Begin shaping two more breads as they cook. Cook for about 4 minutes, or until the bottom is golden and the top begins to have golden spots. Use a long-handled spatula to lift the breads out of the oven; set aside on a rack to cool slightly, then wrap in a towel to keep warm. Repeat with remaining breads.
MAKES 16 breads
Cyclo drivers are tough, resourceful people, working hard to earn a living. With growing prosperity, cyclos are being forced out of central Ho Chi Minh City.
But in Phnom Penh, cyclos are still the most useful form of taxi. Outside each market a row of cyclo drivers waits for customers to emerge.
These sandwich combos, made with long rolls like mini French baguettes, are standard street fare from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) to Phnom Penh to Vientiane. The French introduced bakery-produced baguettes to their Southeast Asian colonies (Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos) and they became an entrenched part of the food traditions in towns and cities. Mekong subs are a brilliant example of a colonized cuisine co-opting a good idea (the baguette sandwich) and going it one better.
Since wheat doesn’t thrive in the tropics, wheat flour for all this bread has to be imported. It came first from France, then from the United States; after 1975, it was shipped in from the USSR, and now it comes mostly, we’re told, from Australia. Bakeries in the region turn out a modified baguette-style roll, light, white, with a crisp crust.
Butter and mayonnaise, two other French introductions, have a big role in Mekong subs, though you can ask for a sandwich without. Fillings range from Vietnamese pâté to cooked sausage to ham, combined with any one or more of a range of choices, including pickled carrot shreds, hot chiles, and fresh herbs.
These days, the flow of ideas is going the other way, and Mekong subs are conquering North America. It’s no wonder: They’re unbeatable.
Ferry crossings are odd places: Everyone wants to move on across the river, yet they may get hungry or have the urge to shop, hence vendors of all kinds. Often the food is very good, freshly prepared. At this Mekong Delta crossing, a sandwich vendor sells Mekong subs filled with small grilled birds, a local delicacy.
Market people, like this jackfruit vendor in Hue, often have a real sense of theater and are prepared to engage in banter of all kinds.
This is the model of the Mekong sub that has traveled to North America. It’s spicier than the Phnom Penh version (see Note). Most ingredients are optional; what makes the sandwich distinctively Southeast Asian is the combination of fresh coriander, strong-tasting meats, and pickled carrot shreds. (Some would say that mayonnaise is another must-include ingredient.)
FOR EACH SANDWICH
One 6- to 8-inch length French bread/baguette, split, or substitute a kaiser roll, sliced open
Butter (optional)
Mayonnaise (optional)
ONE OR MORE OF
Vietnamese Baked Cinnamon Pâté (page 259 or store-bought) or other pork pâté, Vietnamese or French—pâté de campagne is a good option (homemade or store-bought)
Filling from Green-Wrapped Flavor Bundles (page 269)
Thinly sliced cured ham, such as Black Forest ham
Thinly sliced headcheese
Aromatic Lemongrass Patties (page 251), sliced into strips
Chopped cooked sausage, such as Spicy Northern Sausage (page 256)
PLUS
Carrot and Daikon Pickled Salad (page 85) (optional)
Minced bird chiles (optional)
Coriander sprigs
To make each sandwich, spread both cut sides of the bread lightly with butter and one side with mayonnaise, if using. If using pâté, spread or smear it on the other cut side. Lay pieces or slices of any meats you are using on it. Top with carrot and daikon shreds and a few pieces of minced chiles, if using, and coriander, spreading them along the length of the sandwich. Close and press firmly but gently to make the sandwich hold together. Serve whole or cut crosswise in half.
To serve assemble-your-own subs, set out all the ingredients on plates or platters, with plenty of knives for spreading and chopsticks for lifting the meat slices.
NOTE: In Phnom Penh, the sandwich tradition is a little different from that of the Vietnamese. The bread is split and both sides are lightly grilled or toasted, then served alongside meats and other fillings. A small knife and a fork come with each sandwich plate. The choice of fillings is similar to Saigon Subs, with the addition of options like green tomato cut into wedges, sliced scallions, and slices of cucumber. The other distinctive part of Phnom Penh Subs is that they are served with bowls of condiments alongside: fish sauce, soy sauce, chile paste, and Maggi sauce, this yet another European idea adapted to a new purpose.
