2–4 SERVINGS
¼ cup crunchy peanut butter
2 tablespoons hoisin sauce
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
2 teaspoons minced garlic
2 teaspoons chili paste (aka sambal oelek)
5 tablespoons water
BALLS OUT
40–80 SERVINGS
5 cups crunchy peanut butter
2⅓ cups plus
2 tablespoons hoisin sauce
1¼ cups rice vinegar
¾ cup minced garlic
¾ cup chili paste (aka sambal oelek)
6 cups plus
2 tablespoons water
Combine ingredients in a pot over medium-low heat. Mix well. Consistency should be thick and viscous. If it’s runny, lower or remove from heat while mixing until it gets thicker. Warm up sauce on low heat when ready to serve. Voilà—dip! 
My favorite popiah memory was the first time I hung out with all of Thi’s huge extended family in San Francisco in the Richmond district (a couple blocks south of Clement if you want to get real specific and real Cantonese-Chinese up in dis house). It was one of those romantically brisk and chill San Francisco winter days when everyone mostly just wanted to stay warm inside. And inside the kitchen—with all the aunties cooking, all the cousins running around causing havoc, all the uncles babbling about whatever uncles babble about, and Thi’s recently widowed grandmother just taking it all in and laughing—was this HUGE bowl of popiah mix. Then all the aunts began rolling the popiah. They insisted I eat one, and while I was internally reticent to try, because there was no meat in it whatsoever, I ate it. And I fell in love with the dish, deeper in love with Thi and the package that is her family that came along with her, and back in love with the classic feeling of family and the food that comes with that.
