If rice is the bread of Southeast Asian food, then noodles are the potatoes. Noodles are extremely versatile; they can complement other foods or be eaten simply on their own. Fresh rice noodles, dried rice noodles, cellophane noodles, egg noodles, thin vermicelli noodles, and wide flat rice noodle sheets: At every hour of the day, they give comfort and sustenance. Noodles are stir-fried for lunch, heated in a steaming soup for breakfast, or eaten in a bowl with salad greens and herbs and an assortment of toppings for dinner.
Noodles come in many different shapes and sizes, made from rice, wheat, or mung beans. Most Southeast Asian noodles are now available in North America; when they aren’t, there’re good substitutes.
The classic Mekong noodle is fresh and round (like thin spaghetti) and made from rice. The other fresh noodles, used in stir-fries and occasionally in soups, are flat, like fettuccine, and also made of rice. In Asian markets in larger North American cities, you’ll find fresh noodles in the cooler near the tofu. You can also make your own (see Fresh Noodle Sheets, page 121) or substitute dried noodles.
Dried Asian noodles, like dried pasta, are widely available here, and are a wonderful pantry staple. They need only a short soaking or boiling in water, and then they can be stir-fried or served topped with sauces or flavorings.
We’ve pulled together in this chapter some of the many substantial noodle dishes from across the region, from noodle soups to stir-fries. Most are “meal-in-a-bowl”–style recipes that work as a main course or a simple meal. Ginger Chicken Noodle Soup (page 130), for example, is a hearty one-dish meal of rice noodles, broth, chicken, and herbs, easy to make ahead and then serve at a moment’s notice. So too is rich and spicy Chiang Mai Curry Noodles (khao soi, page 134).
Noodle stir-fries, like the Chinese-influenced Thai classics Our Favorite Noodles with Greens and Gravy (page 116) and pad thai (page 124), make wonderful family suppers, winter or summer. You can also serve rice noodles plain with side dishes or toppings, in the same way rice would be, as a central anchor for a meal.
Wheat flour noodles hanging over wooden poles to dry are a familiar sight in China, especially where there is a large Hui (Muslim Chinese) population.
The Kok River (Mae Kok in Thai) flows eastward from Burma into northern Thailand, heading past Chiang Rai and finally into the Mekong above Chiang Khong.
OUR FAVORITE NOODLES WITH GREENS AND GRAVY
Guaytio ladna is one of those bottom-line great dishes we never get tired of eating, in the same category for us as Thai fried rice. In fact, in most neighborhood Thai restaurants, where you can order one, you can usually order the other, and we always have a hard time deciding between the two. When we’re home in Toronto, this is an easy standby for a last-minute supper: tasty and satisfying and quick to make.
Ladna is a stir-fried noodle dish of fresh wide rice noodles (guaytio), dark green vegetables, and a little thinly sliced pork, all bathed in a flavorful “gravy.” The gravy is salty with dao jiao (fermented soybean paste, known in Vietnamese as tuong) and slightly sour with vinegar. A simple mild chile-vinegar sauce, served on the side, brings out the flavors in the dish perfectly. All in all, guaytio ladna is a very good one-dish meal.
Although you can use dried rice noodles, the dish is at its very best when made with fresh rice noodles. If you have a Chinese or Southeast Asian community of any size in your region, almost certainly someone in the area is making fresh rice noodles or noodle sheets. Buy them fresh and store in the refrigerator (no more than two days) before using them. Otherwise, try making your own.
2 pounds fresh rice noodles or Fresh Noodle Sheets (page 121) (or substitute 1 pound wide dried rice noodles)
¼ cup peanut or vegetable oil
2 to 3 tablespoons minced garlic
Scant ½ pound boneless pork butt or shoulder, thinly sliced across the grain into 1- by ½-inch pieces (or substitute lean beef or boneless chicken, sliced similarly)
1 teaspoon sugar
1 pound bok choi, Shanghai bok choi, or other cabbage-family greens, cut lengthwise into ¼-inch-wide spears and well washed (3 to 4 cups loosely packed)
1 tablespoon fermented soybean paste (dao jiao), mashed until smooth
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1½ tablespoons Thai fish sauce
1½ tablespoons rice or cider vinegar
1¼ cups mild chicken, beef, or pork broth or water
1 tablespoon cornstarch, dissolved in 3 tablespoons water
Generous grinding of white or black pepper
ACCOMPANIMENT
½ cup Chile-Vinegar Sauce (recipe follows)
If using fresh noodles or noodle sheets, rinse under warm running water. Stack the sheets, if using, slice into ¾-inch-wide noodles, and separate gently with your fingers; set aside. If using dried rice noodles, soak in warm water for 15 minutes to soften, then drain and set aside.
Place all the other ingredients by your stovetop. Have a platter and 3 or 4 dinner plates (one per guest) nearby.
Heat a large wok over high heat. Pour in 1½ tablespoons of the oil and swirl to coat the wok. When very hot, toss in approximately half the noodles and stir-fry gently for about 2 minutes, pressing them against the hot pan, then turn out onto the platter and repeat with the remaining noodles, using only 1 tablespoon oil. Divide the noodles among the four dinner plates.
Wipe out the wok, then place back over high heat. Add the remaining 1½ tablespoons oil and, when it is hot, toss in the garlic. Stir-fry briefly until starting to turn golden, about 20 seconds, then add the pork slices and a generous pinch of the sugar. Stir-fry for about 1 minute, or until all the meat has changed color. Toss in the sliced greens and stir-fry, pressing the vegetables against the hot sides of the wok, until they turn bright green, about 1½ minutes or more (depending on the size of your wok).
Add the soybean paste, soy sauce, fish sauce, vinegar, and the remaining scant teaspoon sugar and stir-fry to mix, then add the broth or water and the cornstarch mixture. Stir to mix, then cover for 30 seconds to a minute, until the liquid comes to a boil. Remove the cover and simmer, stirring carefully from time to time, for another 2 minutes, or until the liquid has thickened a little and the greens are tender.
Use your spatula or a ladle to distribute the meat, greens, and gravy over the noodles. Grind pepper over generously and serve hot, with a bowl or cruet of the chile-vinegar sauce.
SERVES 3 to 4
NOTE: For a vegetarian option, substitute ½ teaspoon salt (or more to taste) for the fish sauce and use about ½ pound pressed tofu (see Glossary) instead of pork. After frying the garlic, sear the tofu slices by pressing them against the hot sides of the wok for about 2 minutes, then proceed with the recipe as above.
Serve with stir-fried noodle dishes such as pad thai (page 124) or Our Favorite Noodles with Greens and Gravy: a little tart, a little sweet, and mildly hot.
½ cup rice vinegar
2 to 3 tablespoons sugar
½ mild chile (such as Cubanelle, Hungarian wax, or banana chile), sliced into rings
Put the vinegar in a small bowl and stir in the sugar until it is completely dissolved. Add the chile rings. Serve with a small spoon so guests can spoon a little onto their noodles.
Stored in a sealed container in the refrigerator, this will keep for 4 to 5 days.
MAKES about ½ cup sauce
In the cool of winter, early-morning mist shrouds the Mekong.
MORNING MARKET NOODLES (page 138) are a welcome breakfast throughout the region. They’re eaten with chopsticks, even by Thai, Lao, and Khmer people, and tribal people like this Akha woman, who do not normally use chopsticks for eating.
Monks in Phnom Penh make their morning alms rounds, collecting offerings of prepared food for their meals. Their vows prohibit them from eating between noon and the following morning.
This Buddhist temple outside Muang Sing is airy and bright and open to the wind and the birds.
If you do not have a supply of fresh rice noodles or rice noodle sheets at your local Asian grocery store, you may want to make your own.
Homemade rice noodle sheets are surprisingly easy to make, once you get a little practice. They’re white and supple, and irregularities don’t matter because you’ll use them sliced into noodles. If refrigerated, they will keep for up to forty-eight hours, but they really are at their best on the same day. Slice them into wide noodles and use them in soups or to make one of our household favorites, Our Favorite Noodles with Greens and Gravy (page 116).
1 cup rice flour
½ cup cornstarch
½ cup tapioca flour or potato starch
2¼ cups water
¼ to ½ cup vegetable oil (see Note)
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, starches, and water. If necessary, strain through a sieve to get out any lumps. Let the batter stand for 30 minutes to 2 hours, covered. It will be very liquid, like a very thin crepe batter.
Place a heavy well-seasoned or nonstick 8-inch skillet with a tight-fitting lid over medium-low heat. Place a baking sheet beside the stove and spread about 2 tablespoons of oil on it, which you will use to coat the noodle sheets as they cool. Lightly oil a large plate and set it nearby.
After the skillet has heated for 5 minutes, drop a few drops of oil into it and rub the entire surface of the pan with a paper towel to distribute it evenly and remove any excess. Stir or whisk the batter well and, using a ladle or measuring cup, pour about ¼ cup of batter into the pan and swirl it around to coat the surface. Immediately cover with the lid and cook for 1 minute. (Steam will build up and cook the top surface while the bottom surface is cooked by the heat of the pan.) Lift the lid (do not let any water from the underside of the lid drip onto the rice sheet): The rice sheet should look shiny, with small bubbles; if it is still pasty and sticky, wipe the underside of the lid, replace it, cook for another 20 to 30 seconds, and then check again. When the rice sheet is no longer sticky on top, lift it out of the pan with a wooden spatula and place, top side down, on the oiled baking sheet.
Dry off the underside of the lid, whisk the batter well, and make the next sheet (you don’t need to oil the pan each time, just for every second or third sheet—or not at all if your skillet is nonstick). When the cooked rice sheet has cooled slightly, flip it over to coat the other side well with oil, then transfer to the large plate; until the sheets are cool, they are sticky and may, even with the oil, stick together. Cook the remaining batter in the same way, remembering to stir or whisk the batter well before you lift out each ladleful. Once you get the temperature and procedure under control, you may want to speed up your production by using two pans in tandem. Make sure to keep the baking sheet well oiled; you will probably have to add more oil at the halfway mark.
MAKES 8 to 10 fresh rice noodle sheets, 7 to 8 inches across
NOTE: The oil you use to coat the noodles right after they’re made is rinsed off before they are used in a dish, so don’t be dismayed by the amount of oil called for.
TROUBLESHOOTING: Like crepes, Fresh Noodle Sheets take a while to master. Use the first one or two as test samples and adjust the pan temperature and batter thickness and quantity as necessary.
If the batter is immediately sticking to the pan rather than swirling around when you pour it in, lower the temperature slightly. If there is still a problem, add a little more water to make the batter more liquid.
Once the sheets have cooled, store on the plate wrapped in plastic wrap in the refrigerator. They will harden a little, but will soften again when sliced and stir-fried or heated in broth.
We don’t know why, but people visiting Thailand for the first time often go up north to Chiang Mai expecting a quaint, arty, traditional sort of place. Chiang Mai is Thailand’s second city. It’s noisy, crowded, polluted, and frustrating, full of high-rises, department stores, and ugly buildings.
We love Chiang Mai. If we had to choose to live any one place in Thailand, it would probably be here. We don’t know why exactly, but it must be something about its people. People here are quirky, almost cosmopolitan, deliberate. They open little specialized shops and assume that other people will be interested (and sure enough, they are right). Vegetarian Thai cooking, which is a stretch in Thailand considering the prevalence of fish sauce and the use of meat as a flavoring, abounds in Chiang Mai. A modest little place across from the railway station serves incredible, inventive vegetarian fare, and it even has a good selection of wines to drink with dinner. We recently met a man from England, retired, who had come to Chiang Mai as a visitor and he had never gone home. He had started an English “chip” stall on the street near the night market and happily made a go of it; in Chiang Mai, he fit right in.
Chiang Mai is also, in essence, deceptive. While Bangkok is a mere two hundred years old, Chiang Mai has been a center of power in northern Thailand for almost seven centuries. There are old temples here, traces of Burmese architecture, and traditional Lanna-style buildings. Chiang Mai people are proud of their northern heritage, their distinctive language and culture.
Outside the city is a fertile rice-growing plain that stretches in all directions until it bumps up against the steep mountains that rim the valley. To the west, the high dome-shaped Doi Sutep, a mountain topped by a monastery, and the location of the Thai Royal Family’s northern palace, seems to be looking down on the city. It can be seen from almost everywhere in Chiang Mai but, like most people, we’re usually too busy enjoying the life on the streets and in the markets to spare a thought for the countryside round about.
It’s rare these days to come upon a cycle rickshaw in Chiang Mai. As the region prospers, there’s a shift toward motorized rickshaws.
PAD THAI CLASSIC STIR-FRIED NOODLES
Pad thai literally means “Thai fry,” and it is the dish many foreigners think of first when they think about Thai food. It’s a satisfying one-dish noodle stir-fry, dry rather than sauced, and full of different isolated flavors that come together in a balance of salty, sour, and sweet. There are salty dried shrimp, soft pieces of cooked egg with a little succulent pork, and seared pressed tofu, all scattered throughout pan-seared thin rice noodles.
Once you have your ingredients prepared, cooking time is less than 6 minutes. You need a large wok to prepare this amount (the noodles take up a lot of room and you need to be able to push ingredients up the sides of the wok while you cook others). If your wok is small, make the recipe in two batches.
CONDIMENTS AND ACCOMPANIMENTS
1 cup Chile-Vinegar Sauce (page 117)
Cayenne pepper
Sugar (optional)
½ to 1 European cucumber, thinly sliced
1 small head leaf lettuce, washed, dried, and separated into leaves (optional)
1 lime, cut into small wedges
NOODLES
2 ounces boneless pork thinly sliced, and cut into narrow strips about 1½ inches long
1 teaspoon sugar
1 heaping tablespoon tamarind pulp, dissolved in 2 to 3 tablespoons warm water, and pressed through a sieve, or substitute 1 tablespoon rice vinegar plus 1 tablespoon water
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon Thai fish sauce
3 large eggs
Pinch of salt
3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
2 to 3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cube (2 to 3 ounces) pressed tofu, cut into narrow 1½-inch-long strips
½ pound narrow dried rice noodles, soaked in warm water for 20 minutes and drained
½ pound (scant 4 cups) bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
3 scallions, trimmed, smashed flat with the side of a cleaver, and cut into 1½-inch lengths
1 tablespoon dried shrimp
1 tablespoon salted radish (optional)
1 cup Dry-Roasted Peanuts (page 308), coarsely chopped
2 to 4 tablespoons coriander leaves (optional)
Before you begin cooking, place the chile-vinegar sauce in a bowl on the table as a condiment, along with a small condiment plate of cayenne and another small bowl of sugar if you wish. Arrange the cucumber slices around the edge of your serving platter or individual plates, together with the lettuce leaves, if using, and lime wedges. (If you wish, arrange extras of all three on a serving plate.)
Place the pork in a small bowl, add the sugar, and toss to mix. In a medium bowl, mix together the tamarind water (or rice vinegar and water), soy sauce, and fish sauce. In a small bowl, lightly beat the eggs with the salt. Place all the ingredients by your stovetop.
Place a large wok over high heat. Add about 1½ tablespoons of the oil and, when it is hot, add the garlic and stir-fry briefly until it begins to change color, about 15 seconds. Toss in the pork and stir-fry until it has all changed color, 1 minute or less. Add the tofu and press it against the hot sides of the wok to scorch it a little, 10 to 20 seconds. Pour in the egg mixture and let cook until it starts to set around the pork and tofu slices, less than a minute. Use your spatula to cut it into large pieces, then transfer all onto a plate and set aside.
Place the wok back over high heat, add remaining 1½ tablespoons or so oil, and swirl to coat. Toss in the drained noodles and stir-fry vigorously, pressing them against the hot wok to sear and heat them, then turn and press them again. They will seem dry and unwieldy, but don’t worry, just keep folding them over and pressing them onto the wok—after about 1 minute, they will all have softened more and be warm.
Move the noodles up the sides of the wok and toss in 2 to 2½ cups of the bean sprouts and the scallions. Stir-fry vigorously for about 20 seconds, pressing and turning to wilt them against the hot wok. Add the dried shrimp and salted radish and toss briefly with your spatula, then add the soy sauce mixture. Stir-fry for about another 30 seconds, gradually incorporating noodles into the bean sprout mixture. Add the reserved egg-meat mixture and toss gently to mix everything together.
Turn out onto the platter or onto individual plates. Place the remaining bean sprouts on a plate on the table. Sprinkle some of the chopped peanuts onto the noodles, and place the rest in a bowl as a condiment so guests can add extra as they wish. Sprinkle on the coriander leaves, if using, and serve. If serving from a central platter, serve guests (chopsticks or tongs are easiest for the job) or invite everyone to use their chopsticks to serve themselves. As they eat, guests can flavor their portions as they wish, with a sprinkling of cayenne, a squeeze of lime juice, a sprinkling of sugar (traditional in Thailand, but usually not loved by foreigners), a little more chopped peanuts, some bean sprouts, and a drizzle of chile-vinegar sauce.
SERVES 3 to 4 as a one-dish meal
NOTES: If not using salted radish, add a pinch of salt to the soy sauce mixture. You can omit the pork, or use chicken or beef, cut into slices instead. If not using pork, add the sugar to the soy sauce mixture.
If you have a very large wok, you can, instead of removing the egg and meat mixture, use the traditional method and just push it up the sides of the wok while you stir-fry the noodles and bean sprouts. Then just push everything back down when you wish to incorporate it with the noodles.
Tribal people, such as this Akha woman in northern, Laos, may walk three or four hours to get to the market, their strong woven baskets on their backs.
Pho (pronounced like the French word for fire, feu) means “noodle,” as well as “noodle soup,” and bo means “beef.” In this classic pho, a slowly simmered beef broth, aromatic with star anise, cinnamon, and ginger, is poured over rice noodles, thinly sliced beef, and fresh basil leaves. The hot broth cooks the beef almost instantly.
The soup is originally from the north, but it is now a classic throughout Vietnam. We first tasted it at a restaurant outside Saigon as we were setting off on a long trip by car to northern Vietnam; the seductive flavors of the soup, and the combination of salt, pepper, and lime juice into which we dipped tender pieces of beef, made us happy to be on the road.
In Vietnam, beef noodle soup is traditionally eaten as we ate it that first time, for breakfast; people sit at little food stalls, chopsticks in one hand and spoon in the other, eating large bowls of the fragrant noodle soup.
NOTE: In Vietnam, beef bones, unlike pork bones, are washed before using; the recipe starts the traditional way, with instructions for boiling the oxtails or ribs, then discarding the water and starting to make the stock.
SOUP
5 pounds oxtails or beef short ribs
6 quarts water
5 star anise
One 2-inch cinnamon stick
5 cloves
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
2- to 3-inch piece (about 2 ounces) ginger
2 medium onions, cut in half
1 pound stewing beef, trimmed of excess fat
5 tablespoons Vietnamese or Thai fish sauce, or to taste
Salt to taste
1 pound thin or medium dried rice noodles, soaked in warm water for 15 minutes and drained
GARNISH AND ACCOMPANIMENTS
2 cups bean sprouts, rinsed
Lime Juice Yin-Yang (recipe follows)
1 pound eye of round or other boneless lean beef, very thinly sliced across the grain into 1- to 2-inch-long slices
½ cup Asian basil or sweet basil leaves
½ cup coriander leaves
3 shallots, thinly sliced
1 or 2 bird or serrano chiles, minced
Place the oxtails or ribs in a large pot, cover with cold water, and bring to a boil. Boil vigorously for 5 minutes, then drain. Rinse out the pot well, rinse off the oxtails or ribs and place back in the pot.
Add 4 quarts of the water and bring to a boil. Add the star anise, cinnamon stick, cloves, and peppercorns. Using tongs, char the ginger over a gas flame, then add to the pot; use the same method to char the onion pieces, then add to the pot. Alternatively, heat a heavy skillet over high heat, add the ginger and onion pieces, and scorch well on all sides before adding to the pot.
Let the broth boil gently, uncovered, skimming off foam and scum, for about 30 minutes. Add the remaining 2 quarts water, bring back to the boil, and continue to boil gently, skimming off foam. When foam has stopped rising to the surface, lower the heat to medium-low and simmer for another hour.
Add the stewing beef and fish sauce, bring back to a boil, and simmer, uncovered, until the meat is very tender, about 2 hours. Leaving the soup at a simmer, remove the stewing beef and cool slightly. Slice as thin as possible and set aside.
Remove the soup from the heat and remove and discard the bones and solids. For a traditionally clear broth, line a colander with a double layer of cheesecloth and strain the soup into a clean bowl. Let the stock cool, then refrigerate, covered, for at least 2 hours.
Skim off the layer of fat from the top of the stock and discard. (The soup can be made ahead to this point and stored in the refrigerator, beef and stock in separate well-sealed containers, for up to 2 days, or frozen for up to 1 month.)
About 20 minutes before you wish to serve the soup, remove the meat and stock from the refrigerator and set the meat aside. Transfer the stock to a pot and heat until warm. Strain through cheesecloth as described above, return to the pot, and bring to a boil. Taste for seasonings and add fish sauce or salt as desired, then simmer gently, half covered, while you prepare the accompaniments.
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Drop in the rice noodles and cook until just tender but not mushy, 30 seconds to 1 minute. Transfer to a colander, rinse with cold water, and set aside. Blanch the bean sprouts briefly in the same boiling water, then set aside.
Provide each guest with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks, as well as a small side plate with the Lime Juice Yin-Yang—a generous pile of salt, another of black pepper beside it, and a lime wedge or two—to be used as a condiment for the beef slices (see below). Set out the raw beef, along with small dishes of the herbs, shallots, bean sprouts, and sliced chile.
To serve, divide the noodles among 6 to 8 large bowls. Top each serving with a generous pinch of bean sprouts, a few shallot slices, several basil leaves, slices of cooked beef, and slices of raw beef. Ladle the hot broth over and sprinkle with the coriander.
MAKES about 3 quarts broth; serves 6 to 8
NOTE: If you freeze the beef stock, you may wish to serve it as a clear broth on its own or simply poured over thin slices of lean beef, shallot slices, and perhaps several sprigs of basil. Sprinkle with coriander leaves and, if including beef slices, serve with Lime Juice Yin-Yang.
Simple but elegant, this little condiment is still our favorite combo with beef of every kind, as well as a brilliant way of serving salt and pepper any time. We learned it from a man named Lam, long ago on our first trip to Vietnam.
Coarse sea salt or kosher salt
Very coarsely ground black pepper
Small wedges of lime
Place the salt and pepper in separate shallow bowls, with a spoon for each. Place the lime wedges on a small plate. Give each guest a very small condiment dish. Demonstrate how to combine flavors by first placing a generous pile of salt on one side of your condiment dish, then a heap of pepper separately on the other side. Squeeze a little lime juice over the space in between. Use a chopstick to gently mix the proportion of salt and pepper that you wish into the lime juice, making a black-and-white paste.
This warming noodle soup is a good introduction to the pleasures of making your own Southeast Asian noodle soup, as it is easy to prepare and always a big hit. The broth is poured over rice noodles, bean sprouts, and fresh herbs, then served topped with a little ginger paste.
SOUP
One 3½-pound chicken, excess fat removed
3 quarts cold water
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
2- to 3-inch piece (2 to 3 ounces) ginger
1 large or 2 medium onions, cut into quarters
2 tablespoons Vietnamese or Thai fish sauce, or to taste
Salt to taste
GARNISH AND ACCOMPANIMENTS
1½ cups loosely packed bean sprouts, rinsed
1 pound thin or medium dried rice noodles, soaked in warm water for 15 minutes and drained
2- to 3-inch piece (2 to 3 ounces) ginger
Pinch of salt
2 to 3 shallots, thinly sliced
1 cup loosely packed coarsely chopped coriander
½ cup loosely packed Vietnamese coriander leaves (rau ram), or substitute chopped mint
1 to 2 limes, cut into wedges
Rinse the chicken, including the heart, neck, and giblets, thoroughly with cold water (reserve the liver for another use). Place in a large pot and add the water and peppercorns. (If the chicken is not covered with water, you will have to turn it once or twice during cooking.) Bring to a boil over high heat.
As the water is heating, scorch the ginger and the onion pieces, either over a gas flame, using tongs to hold the pieces in the flame until they scorch, or together in a dry heavy skillet over high heat. Turn the pieces until they are blackened on all sides, then add to the soup.
Once the water comes to a boil, skim off the foam, lower the heat, and let simmer, partially covered, until the chicken is cooked, about 45 minutes, skimming off the foam occasionally. If the chicken is not completely covered with water, turn it several times during cooking. Remove the chicken from the broth and set aside to cool slightly. Remove the meat from the bones, coarsely shred, and set aside; discard the bones, giblets, and skin.
Line a colander with a double layer of cheesecloth and strain the broth into a bowl. Let cool, then transfer to several containers and refrigerate, covered, for at least 3 hours. When the broth has chilled completely, skim off the layer of fat on the surface with a large spoon and reserve it for use in the soup (traditionally a little of this fat is dolloped onto the soup when it is served) or for another purpose. (The soup can be made ahead to this point and the broth and chicken stored separately in the refrigerator, in well-covered containers, for up to 2 days. The broth can also be frozen for up to 3 months.)
About 30 minutes before you wish to serve the soup, remove the broth and shredded chicken from the refrigerator. Place the soup in a pot, add the fish sauce, and bring to a boil, then lower the heat and let simmer until ready to serve. Taste for seasoning and add fish sauce or salt to taste.
Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a vigorous boil. Place the bean sprouts in a sieve or a colander and blanch them in the boiling water for 20 to 30 seconds. Remove and set aside to drain. Bring the water back to a boil, drop in the rice noodles, and cook just until softened but not mushy, 30 seconds to 1 minute. Drain, rinse with cold water, and set aside.
Using the technique described above, scorch the piece of ginger. Coarsely chop it, then place in a large mortar, add the salt, and pound to a paste. Alternatively, mince the ginger, place it in a bowl, add the salt, and use the back of a spoon to mash the ginger; add a little water, if necessary, to make a paste.
To serve, divide the noodles among six large soup bowls. Place about ¼ cup bean sprouts in each, then top with the chicken. Add several shallot slices, separated into rings, ladle the hot broth over, and add a dollop of the ginger paste and a dollop of the reserved chicken fat, if you wish. Sprinkle on some coriander and Vietnamese coriander or mint. Serve at once, with small plates of the remaining shallot slices and herbs, a small bowl of the remaining ginger paste, and the lime wedges, so guests can adjust flavorings to taste.
MAKES about 11 cups broth (and 18 to 20 ounces cooked chicken); serves 6 as a one-dish meal
Starting with a coil of soaked and cooked noodles, Vietnamese cooks and market stall vendors construct wonderful meal-in-a-bowl combos. Here are some suggestions for embarking on this flexible approach to noodles.
1 pound rice vermicelli or dried rice noodles, soaked in warm water for 15 minutes and drained, then briefly boiled and drained
About 2 cups chopped salad greens
1 cup Carrot and Daikon Pickled Salad (page 85) (optional)
1 cup bean sprouts, rinsed and drained, or pickled (see page 85) (optional)
TOPPINGS: CHOOSE TWO OR THREE
Classic Vietnamese Spring Rolls (page 274), cut into 1-inch lengths
Vietnamese Grilled Pork Balls (page 252)
Aromatic Lemongrass Patties (page 251)
Grilled Lemongrass Beef (page 225)
Other sliced grilled meats or vegetables
GARNISH
Coriander leaves or mint leaves
ACCOMPANIMENT
Vietnamese Must-Have Table Sauce (nuoc cham, page 28)
The noodles can be cooked up to 2 hours ahead and set aside.
To serve, distribute the salad greens and vegetables, if using, among four large bowls. Distribute the noodles among the bowls. Place the toppings over and sprinkle on the herbs. Serve with the dipping sauce in a small bowl with a small spoon so guests can drizzle on sauce as they wish.
SERVES 4
We know we are in a good place when our children are awakened early one morning by the sound of their hotel room door slowly squeaking open, and in through the doorway come the horns and the curious head of an enormous water buffalo. “Come quickly,” they call to us. Water buffalo may look mighty big when they are munching on rice straw in a field, but when you see one standing in the doorway of your children’s small room, their size takes on a whole new dimension.
We will never forget our time in Muang Sing, a tiny town way up in the northwestern corner of Laos, just a few miles south of the Chinese border. Our hotel was a simple one-story structure by a rice field. For a few hours each evening, we had electricity powered by a generator; the rest of the time we had just sunshine in the day and candles at night. For entertainment, we’d walk up and down the town’s two dusty main roads, or we’d hike or bicycle out into the hills, or we’d simply hang around. We’d go for dinner to a local restaurant, and while we ate, we’d watch the villagers as they watched television, Chinese operas and Thai fight-it-out dramas. By nine o’clock, the generator would turn off, and along with everyone else, we’d walk home in the dark, voices in the dark.
The big event of the day, the local market, got started every morning hours before dawn. Muang Sing’s streets would begin to fill with tribal people walking in from the hills: Akha, Mien, Tai Dam, Hmong. They’d be laughing and carrying on, coming to the market to buy, to sell, to have a good time. Many came from villages far away, having walked in darkness for hours carrying big baskets of jungle-gathered specialties: bamboo shoots, medicinal plants, small wild game. For a few hours each morning, Muang Sing became the bustling center of its world, the Chicago of northwestern Laos, and for us it was absolutely thrilling.
One morning I sat down for a bowl of noodles next to an Akha man who was also having a bowl of noodles. We checked each other out, the way you do in the market. “Nice trousers,” I said, motioning to his hand-spun, handwoven cotton pants, which were a little dusty and worn but still incredible. He couldn’t understand what I had said, and I couldn’t understand what he then said (maybe something about my trousers), but we acknowledged each other and continued to check each other out. And then we ate our bowls of noodles, and moved on.
Well, later we ran into each other again, and again we admired each other’s trousers, only this time somehow more intently. A friend of his came by, and then another, and soon we had a little crowd. Before I knew it, I was bargaining for his trousers. It was a wild session: yes, no, maybe, too dirty, too much, too little, made by hand, much better than mine, yes. He walked away, I walked away, then we returned and it went on. At last we settled on a deal, a fair price, or so I thought. And then he solemnly turned around and walked home, back into the hills.
Next morning, right at dawn, there he was at our small hotel. He was wearing the same trousers, dusty and worn, and he stood there with the same serious expression that never changed. When he saw me he held out a pair of trousers, new trousers. They were hand-spun, handwoven, ready to wear.
I hope they will last a lifetime.
When we bicycled out of Muang Sing one hot sunny day, heading toward the Chinese border, we came upon these water buffalo, looking rested and oh-so-cool.
CHIANG MAI CURRY NOODLES
We’re told by friends in Chiang Mai, Thailand’s northern capital (see Chiang Mai, page 122), that this noodle dish is originally from the Shan State of Burma; others say it came with Muslim traders from Yunnan. Whatever the story, khao soi is now known as a Chiang Mai specialty. It’s an easy-to-make, very rich and delicious one-dish meal.
The broth that bathes the noodles is flavored with a little curry paste, turmeric, and garlic and is smooth and thick with coconut milk. Traditionally khao soi is made, as it is here, with beef; you can also make it with chicken.
The recipe calls for Chinese egg noodles, available from most Chinese groceries. They come in one-pound packages and are about linguine width and pale yellow. The cooked noodles are placed in large individual bowls and the curry sauce is poured over them when the dish is served. Khao soi is usually topped with a small nest of crispy noodles, egg noodles that have been briefly deep-fried; they add a delightful contrasting texture. There is a small array of condiments traditionally served with khao soi; don’t worry if you don’t have pickled cabbage.
2 to 3 cloves garlic, peeled
1-inch piece fresh turmeric, minced, or 1 teaspoon ground turmeric
1 teaspoon salt, plus a pinch
1 tablespoon Red Curry Paste (page 210 or store-bought)
1 tablespoon peanut or vegetable oil
3 cups canned or fresh coconut milk (see page 315), with ½ cup of the thickest milk set aside
½ pound boneless flavorful beef (sirloin tip or trimmed stewing beef), cut into ½-inch chunks
1 tablespoon sugar
1 cup water
3 tablespoons Thai fish sauce
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
Peanut oil for deep-frying noodles (optional)
1 pound Chinese egg noodles (bamee)
TOPPINGS AND CONDIMENTS
Fried noodle nests (optional; see below)
½ cup coarsely chopped shallots
½ cup minced scallions
½ cup Pickled Cabbage, Thai Style (page 311 or store-bought)
1 lime, cut into wedges
Place the garlic in a mortar with the turmeric and the pinch of salt and pound to a paste. Alternatively, finely mince the garlic and whole turmeric, if using, and place the garlic and turmeric in a small bowl with the pinch of salt. Stir in the red curry paste and set aside.
Place a large heavy pot or wok over high heat. Add the 1 tablespoon oil and, when it is hot, toss in the curry paste mixture. Stir-fry for 30 seconds, then add the reserved ½ cup thick coconut milk and lower the heat to medium-high. Add the meat and sugar and cook, stirring frequently, for 4 to 5 minutes, until the meat has changed color all over. Add the remaining 2½ cups coconut milk, the water, fish sauce, and the remaining 1 teaspoon salt and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium and cook at a strong simmer for about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the lime juice. (The soup can be prepared up to an hour ahead, then reheated just before serving.)
Meanwhile, make the optional crispy noodles: Place a plate lined with several layers of paper towels by your stove. Place a large wok or heavy pot over high heat and add about 1 cup peanut oil, or ½ inch oil. When the oil is hot, drop in a strand of uncooked noodle to test the temperature. It should sizzle slightly as it falls to the bottom, then immediately puff and rise to the surface; adjust the heat slightly, if necessary. Toss a handful (about 1 cup) of noodles into the oil and watch as they puff up. Use a spatula or long tongs to turn them over and expose all of them to the hot oil. They will crisp up very quickly, in less than 1 minute. Lift the crisped noodles out of the oil and place on the paper towel–lined plate. Give the oil a moment to come back to temperature, and then repeat with a second handful of noodles. (The noodles can be fried ahead and left standing for several hours.)
To serve, bring a large pot of water to a vigorous boil over high heat. Drop in the remaining noodles (or all noodles, if you didn’t make crispy noodles), bring back to a boil, and cook until tender but not mushy, about 6 minutes. Drain well.
Divide the drained noodles among four large bowls. Ladle over the broth and meat. Top with crispy noodles, if you have them, and a pinch each of shallots and scallions. Serve with the remaining condiments set out in small bowls so guests can garnish their soup as they wish. Provide each guest with chopsticks and a large spoon.
SERVES 4
A soup vendor serves up fresh noodles bathed in broth. Even when the noodle stall is on a boat, as here on Inle Lake in Burma’s Shan State, the broth is always hot and the choice of toppings generous.
The rice batter that makes noodles can also be used to make rice wrappers, although making them thin and fine is an art.
Early morning in the village markets in Southeast Asia, there’s a chill in the air and the smell of wood smoke from cooking fires. Women cook at open-air stalls, each with a table and a few stools, some bowls and jars of condiments, and a platter of fresh ingredients. (In the floating markets of the Mekong Delta, the stalls are small boats, rocking gently.) Clouds of steam rise from simmering pots of soup. Shoppers, whether tribal people in from the hills in Muang Sing, or Dai women slender in sarongs and cotton blouses in Menghan, or foreign travelers out for an early stroll in Vientiane, find themselves perched on stools, side by side with strangers, eating Morning Market Noodles, usually in a hot soup.
The details vary, but in all places the soup bowl is large, the broth is hot and aromatic, and there are a few pieces of meat and the occasional fragment of vegetable, lost in a tangle of noodles.
Morning Market Noodles are wonderful to serve for breakfast, lunch, or supper, anytime. Make the broth ahead, then prepare the condiments and toppings and let everyone assemble his or her own soup noodles. Serving this way accommodates a wide variety of eaters, from those who like only mild tastes to those who adore chiles.
We’ve listed an array of optional accompaniments; you can keep things very simple or provide a wider choice of flavorings (see Notes for suggestions). However you proceed, your guests will feel welcomed, cared for, satisfied.
10 to 12 cups Basic Southeast Asian Broth (page 50) or other mild chicken or pork broth
1 pound chicken thighs, coarsely chopped, or ½ to 1 pound fresh ham or lean pork roast, cut into 2-inch chunks
Salt and/or Vietnamese or Thai fish sauce to taste
1½ pounds thin dried rice noodles or rice vermicelli, soaked in warm water for 15 minutes and drained, or 2 pounds fresh rice noodles
OPTIONAL INGREDIENTS
Bean sprouts
Chopped napa cabbage
Pea tendrils
OPTIONAL TOPPINGS
Minced scallions
Coriander leaves
Dry-Roasted Peanuts (page 308), coarsely chopped
Spicy pork filling from Green-Wrapped Flavor Bundles (page 269)
Fried Shallots (page 310)
OPTIONAL CONDIMENTS
Black rice vinegar
Rice vinegar mixed with soy sauce
Garlic Oil (page 310)
Roasted sesame oil
Yunnanese Chile Pepper Paste (page 27) or store-bought chile paste
Chile-Vinegar Sauce (page 117)
Sugar
Fish sauce
Lime wedges for squeezing
Salt and freshly ground black or white pepper
Place the stock in a large pot, add the meat, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer until the meat is tender, about 30 minutes. Taste and add salt or fish sauce, or a combination, as you wish. Lift out the pieces of meat, discard any bones, and cut the meat into bite-sized pieces. Keep the broth warm over low heat until you wish to serve. (You can make the soup ahead and let the broth and meat cool to room temperature, then store them in separate sealed containers in the refrigerator for 2 days or in the freezer for up to 1 month. Bring the meat to room temperature before proceeding.)
About 20 minutes before you wish to serve the soup, put a large pot of water on to boil. Put the optional ingredients you have chosen near your stovetop and set out the toppings and condiments on the table. Bring the broth to a steady simmer. Add the reserved meat to the soup, or, place it on a plate so you can offer it to your guests separately. Set out a sieve or colander to use for dipping the noodles and vegetables into the boiling water and a pair of tongs or long chopsticks for fishing the meat out of the broth. Put out a large soup bowl, a spoon, and chopsticks for each person.
Serve each person individually: Ask each guest which of the ingredients he or she would like in the soup. Place a coil of noodles in the sieve and dip into the boiling water for 30 seconds. Lift them out, pausing to let them drain, then place them in the guest’s bowl. Ladle over a generous quantity of hot broth and some chopped meat, if using. If you want to parboil the raw ingredients (bean sprouts, napa cabbage, or pea tendrils) your guest has chosen, dip them briefly into the boiling water before placing them in the soup bowl.
Invite your guests to add flavorings as they wish. You may find that when they return for seconds, they want their noodles “dry,” with little or no broth; another option in this very flexible way of eating.
SERVES 8
NOTES ON REGIONAL DIFFERENCES: In Yunnan, at markets in the Dali region, flavorings on vendors’ tables generally consist of hot chile paste, black rice vinegar mixed with soy sauce (a blend known as suan su), garlic oil, roasted sesame oil, ground roasted peanuts minced and mixed with sugar, minced scallions, and chopped coriander.
In southern Yunnan, in the Dai area near the Lao border, condiments are similar, though instead of vinegar with soy sauce, there are fried shallots and a paste made of ginger mashed with a pinch of salt and moistened with water.
In Muang Sing, in northern Laos, pea tendrils are usually on offer and so is a spicy pork paste (the filling for Green-Wrapped Flavor Bundles, page 269) that is dolloped on top of the soup, then stirred in. There is also chile oil or chile paste, along with chopped scallions and coriander, but there is no sesame oil or peanuts. Similarly, in Luang Prabang and Vientiane, there is no soy or vinegar, no sesame oil or peanuts. There is often, however, chopped celery leaf, a dish of fish sauce, extra pieces of boiled meat, and padek (fermented fish paste).
In northeast Thailand and southern Laos, there is fish sauce, sometimes shrimp paste or padek, sugar, a mild chile-vinegar sauce, chile oil, and sometimes scallion oil or fried shallots or fried garlic.
In Cambodia, with a bowl of k’tieu you might have optional toppings of dried shrimp, bean sprouts, soy sauce, chopped bird chiles, coriander leaves, pickled cabbage, fried garlic, and, often, sugar.
In southern Vietnam, hu tieu is a close cousin of the Cambodian soup k’tieu. It comes as two dishes: thin rice vermicelli in one bowl and the broth served on the side. Other noodle soups in Vietnam are usually called pho, after the flat rice noodles they contain. Hu tieu usually comes with the flavorings similar to those with k’tieu: coriander leaves, sometimes roasted sesame oil or scallion oil, always bean sprouts but not pea tendrils, soy sauce, lime wedges, bird chiles, and pepper. For other noodle soups in southern Vietnam, there might also be ground peanuts, assorted fresh herbs, including mint and Asian basil and sometimes sawtooth herb but less commonly coriander leaves, and fish sauce.
Tai Lu villagers in northern Laos live in graceful wooden houses built on stilts and placed close together along narrow tree-lined lanes.
This is a dish of simmered meat with lots of thin gravy that is served over fresh round white rice noodles known as kanom jiin. Since fresh rice noodles can be hard to find outside Southeast Asia, we use dried rice vermicelli or the narrowest dried flat rice noodle available.
We first tasted this dish at a restaurant in Chiang Mai, where our friend Guk Gai had taken us for traditional northern food. The place was jammed. When the dish came, it was delicious, though a little hard to figure out. There was a lot of broth, chile-hot and a little lime-sour, very unlike the sweet coconut milk curries of central Thailand, with pieces of well-cooked pork scattered through it.
This is the closest we can come to reproducing that dish. It comes originally from the Shan, hence the flavoring with Shan Chile Paste. You’ll notice there’s no fish sauce, just salt, in the Shan tradition. When you taste for salt, remember that the sauce is going over noodles, so it needs to be a little saltier than if you were eating it on its own.
1½ pounds pork spareribs, chopped into 3 or 4 pieces
5 cups water or light chicken or pork broth
2 to 3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
3 tablespoons Shan Chile Paste (page 37), or substitute 1 tablespoon Red Curry Paste (page 210 or store-bought) mixed with 1 tablespoon fermented soybean paste (dao jiao)
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
½ cup chopped shallots or mild onions
½ pound ground pork
1 medium to large (about ½ pound) tomato, coarsely chopped, or 2 to 3 canned tomatoes, drained and coarsely chopped
½ teaspoon salt (2 teaspoons if using red curry paste), or to taste
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 pound dried rice vermicelli or narrow dried rice noodles, soaked in warm water for 15 minutes and drained
TOPPINGS AND ACCOMPANIMENTS
½ cup Fried Garlic (page 310)
½ cup loosely packed torn coriander leaves
¼ cup minced scallions
2 cups bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
1 cup Pickled Cabbage, Thai Style (page 311 or store-bought), coarsely chopped (optional)
5 to 6 Thai dried red chiles, quickly fried in oil until softened (see Note) (optional)
1 lime, cut into wedges
Rinse the ribs in cold water, then place in a pot with the water or broth and bring to a boil. Simmer for 20 minutes, or until the ribs are cooked, skimming off any foam on the surface. Remove from the heat, lift the ribs out of the broth, and cool a moment. Cut the meat from the bones, coarsely chop, and return to the pot. Set aside.
Heat a wok over high heat. Add the oil and swirl to coat the wok. Toss in the chile paste, or the curry paste and soybean paste, and stir-fry for 15 seconds, using your spatula to break up the paste. Toss in the turmeric and shallots or onions and stir-fry vigorously for about 15 seconds. Toss in the pork and stir-fry, using your spatula to break up any lumps, until the pork is cooked through, about 5 minutes. Add the chopped tomato and simmer 5 minutes more.
Add the stir-fried mixture to the reserved broth and bring to a simmer. Add the salt and lime juice and stir until well blended. Taste for salt and add a little more if you wish. The sauce should be thin, with a hot, slightly sour tang. (The dish can be prepared ahead to this point, then cooled to room temperature, transferred to a well-sealed nonreactive container, and stored in the refrigerator for up to 3 days or in the freezer for a month. When ready to proceed, place the meat and broth back in a pot and bring to a simmer.)
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add the noodles and cook until tender, 1 to 2 minutes; drain.
To serve, place a coiled heap of noodles in each bowl and ladle over a generous amount of broth and some meat. Sprinkle fried garlic, coriander leaves, and minced scallions over each serving; put the remaining broth and meat in a bowl with a serving spoon so guests can add more to their bowls as they wish. Place the accompaniments in piles on a platter or make up small individual plates for each guest, as you wish. The bean sprouts, pickled cabbage, and fried chiles can be stirred into the broth and noodles or eaten separately as accompaniments, and the lime wedges can be squeezed over to give an extra sour note.
SERVES 6
NOTE: To fry dried chiles, place about ¼ cup peanut or vegetable oil in a wok or heavy skillet and heat over medium-high heat. When they are hot, toss in whole chiles and fry for about 1 minute, or until soft. Remove from the pan and drain in paper towels.
I don’t know her name, but I always think of her as the noodle maker. She lives in a small village in northern Laos near the Chinese border. She’s a slender, hardworking mother of a large family, Tai Lu in her ethnicity. Her house is made of wood, built high up on stilts. There is a narrow wooden staircase running up to the veranda, where most of the household chores take place, and a doorway through to the inside, where there are several rooms for sleeping. Down below, under the house, she stores her loom, millstones for grinding rice, two large cauldrons, and other miscellaneous tools and utensils. Every day, underneath the house, she makes fresh rice noodles (known as khao soi in northern Laos) for sale at the nearby morning market in Muang Sing.
I came by one day, camera in hand, and saw her working under the house, though at what I couldn’t see. She motioned, so I came in to get a closer look. She was grinding soaked rice between two millstones, transforming it into a wet dough. It was hard work, grinding by hand, going round and round, and continuously feeding rice and water into the top hole of the millstones. A pasty dough came oozing whitely out the sides, then gathered in a trough below the bottom stone.
Once she’d finished grinding, she kneaded the dough, over and over, for what felt like forever and was probably close to twenty minutes, until it was perfectly smooth. She already had a large pot of water heating over a fire (haul the wood, light the fire, haul the water, place the pot on the fire and fill it, tend the fire …). We moved over near the pot. She took out a cloth bag, like a pastry bag, with a small wooden disk at one end pierced with small holes, and she put some of the dough in the bag. Then, leaning over the boiling water in the cauldron, squeezing the bag hard until the sinews corded in her strong, slender arms, she squeezed long fine lengths of the white dough into the pot in continuously swirling spirals. They sank, then rose in the bubbling water. She used a mesh strainer to lift them out and laid them on a banana leaf, then she filled the bag again with dough and began squeezing out the next batch.
The next day, there she was in the market, way before dawn. Her beautiful white coils of noodles were nearly all gone, sold for pennies a kilo. It was almost time for her to head back to the village, time to start grinding more rice.
Fresh round rice noodles are known as kanom jiin in Thai, khao poon in central Laos, and khao soi in the north. In more remote areas, they are still laboriously handmade; elsewhere the process is a little more mechanized.
If you order yam wun sen from a Thai menu, the only thing you know for sure is that the salad will include cellophane noodles. Apart from that, few yam wun sen are ever much alike. The noodles provide a base for the salad, as in a pasta salad, and the other ingredients bring flavor and contrasting color and texture. In this recipe, oyster mushrooms and a small amount of pork add flavor, while coriander leaves and scallions bring added color. Be sure to serve with plenty of tender leaf lettuce and/or cucumber slices to use for scooping up the noodles.
SALAD
1 pound oyster mushrooms, cleaned
About 3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
3 to 4 cloves garlic, minced
1¼ pound (about ½ cup) ground pork
½ teaspoon salt
Pinch of sugar
3 bundles (about 3 ounces) cellophane noodles, soaked in warm water for 20 minutes and drained
1 medium scallion, trimmed, cut lengthwise into thin slices, and then cut crosswise into 2-inch lengths
1 cup loosely packed coriander leaves
Several whole tender leaf lettuce leaves for lining the plates and/or about 6 inches European cucumber, finely sliced
1 lime, cut into small wedges
Freshly ground black or white pepper
DRESSING
4 to 5 tablespoons fresh lime juice
4 to 5 tablespoons Thai fish sauce
½ to 1 teaspoon dried red chile flakes or 1 Thai dried red chile, crumbled
1½ teaspoons sugar
Prepare a grill fire or preheat the boiler. Separate the clumps of oyster mushrooms into individual mushrooms. Brush lightly with oil, then grill or broil until moist and tender right through, turning them partway through cooking. Let cool slightly, then cut into bite-sized pieces, discarding any tough stems, and set aside.
Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a wok or heavy skillet over high heat. When it is hot, toss in the garlic and stir-fry until golden, about 30 seconds, then add the pork and stir-fry briefly, using your spatula to break up any lumps. Stir in the salt and sugar and stir-fry until all the meat has changed color, then remove from the heat and set aside in a bowl.
Bring a medium pot of water to a boil. Cut the soaked cellophane noodles into 2- to 3-inch lengths (we use scissors and snip through clumps). Dump the noodles into the boiling water for 1 minute, then drain into a sieve or colander and refresh with cold water.
Place the noodles in a large bowl. Add the pork mixture and the mushrooms, toss, and set aside.
In a cup or small bowl, mix together all the dressing ingredients, starting with the lesser amount of each, then taste and adjust the balance of hot, sour, salty, and sweet if you wish. Pour about 6 tablespoons of dressing over the salad and toss gently; reserve the remaining dressing. (The salad can be made ahead to this point and set aside, covered—and refrigerated if the wait will be longer than 30 minutes—for up to 2 hours. Bring back to room temperature before proceeding.)
Add the scallion and most of the coriander leaves to the salad, reserving a few for garnish. Toss gently. Just before serving, pour over the remaining dressing. Line individual plates with lettuce leaves, if you wish, then mound the salad on top and sprinkle on the reserved coriander leaves. Or mound the salad, then arrange 5 or 6 overlapping cucumber slices around the edge of each salad. Place a lime wedge or two on each plate, and serve. Set out a pepper grinder so guests can grind pepper over if they wish.
SERVES 4
We were taught how to make this salad by Shieng in Mai Sai, on the Thai border with the Shan State (see Border Town, page 92). She made it with celtuce, a celery-lettuce hybrid, but told us that any firm lettuce or cabbage green would be appropriate. After some experimenting, we now use the bottom half of a head of napa cabbage. It has good taste and a pleasing crunch, even after standing in the salad dressing for a while.
The dressing is tart with rice vinegar, and has some warmth from both minced ginger and dried chile, a wonderful complement to the cool crispness of the cabbage and the silkiness of the cellophane noodles.
SALAD
2 cups julienned napa cabbage (see Note)
3 bundles (about 3 ounces) dried cellophane noodles, soaked in warm water for 20 minutes and drained
1 cup coarsely chopped coriander
DRESSING AND FLAVOR PASTE
3 tablespoons vegetable or peanut oil
¼ cup chopped garlic
2 to 3 Thai dried red chiles, or 1 teaspoon dried red chile flakes, or less for less heat
2 tablespoons minced ginger (about 2 inches)
2 teaspoons dried shrimp
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar or fresh lime juice
Place the cabbage in a large bowl of cold water and set aside.
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add the cellophane noodles and cook until softened, about 1½ minutes. Drain thoroughly in a sieve or colander. Coarsely chop.
Drain the cabbage and place in a bowl, add the noodles, and toss with your hands to mix well.
In a small heavy skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and cook over medium heat until lightly browned, about 4 minutes. If using whole dried chiles, break into small pieces and stir into the oil. Or, stir in the chile flakes. Continue cooking and stirring for 1 minute, then transfer the garlic, chiles, and oil to a medium bowl.
Place the ginger in a mortar and pound to a paste, then add the shrimp and salt and pound to a paste. Alternatively, mince the ginger and shrimp very fine, place in a bowl with the salt, and use the back of a large spoon to mash and blend together. Stir the water into ginger-shrimp mixture, then add to the reserved garlic and chile oil. Stir in the vinegars. Pour the dressing over the salad and toss well. Add the coriander and toss well. Let stand for 15 minutes before serving to allow the flavors to blend.
SERVES 4 to 6 as part of a meal
NOTE: To prepare the cabbage, cut a napa cabbage crosswise in half. You will be using the bottom half. Reserve the remaining cabbage for another purpose. Cut out and discard the very tough core, then cut the cabbage into julienne strips about 2 inches long.
VARIATION: If you’d like to serve this as a more substantial dish, you can include oyster mushrooms: Grill or parboil about 4 oyster mushrooms, then coarsely chop. Add after mixing together the cabbage and noodles. You may want to increase the salt, chiles, and vinegar slightly and the oil to ¼ cup.
