Rice is the headlining ingredient in this herb-forward “salad,” but it wouldn’t be khaao yam without the inclusion of earthy toasted coconut. The dish is a beloved breakfast on Ko Yao Noi and beyond, sold from vast bowls at Muslim-run tea shops.
This version, taught to me by Bussaba Butdee, who runs a homestay on Ko Yao Noi, includes the rather decadent addition of grilled shrimp, which she happened to have on hand. These are not standard and can be omitted. Less optional for southern Thais is the herb called bai phaa hom. Known colloquially as—no, I’m not making this up—“dog and pig fart herb,” the leaf provides the dish with a unique, but not as unpleasant as the name might suggest, aroma. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to find bai phaa hom outside southern Thailand, and khaao yam made without it will still be tasty, but it, admittedly, won’t have the same unique fragrance.
Serve this as a southern Thai–style breakfast or as lunch.
In many cultures, the crispy rice that sticks to the bottom of the pot is considered a delicacy. In this recipe, the rice is shaped into patties and fried until the outside is crispy while the inside is still moist, almost gooey. The pickling liquid for the onion is refreshing and aromatic, with mint, spicy chili paste, and the tang of rice wine vinegar. The flavorings in this salad are Asian-inspired, based on some of my favorite rice bowl toppings: fish sauce and soy for umami, spicy ginger, and crunchy peanuts. You can also top the rice fritters with other fresh herbs, garnishes, or sauces for different flavor profiles. If you don’t have Carolina Gold rice (the heirloom grain, not the parboiled rice brand; see p. 156 for more info), substitute any short- or medium-grain rice—their higher starch content will help bind the patties together. Using chilled rice makes it easier to shape the patties.
Char siu, the strips of barbecued roast pork with their signature crimson exterior, is a treasured Cantonese meat, and the most popular siu mei dish. Siu mei is a term that refers to the roasted meats popular in Hong Kong, but also commonly found in Chinatown windows around the world. Most city-dwelling Cantonese kids grew up eating siu mei—during my carnivorous youth, as my mother arrived home from the store, I would sidle up with my best good-daughter-face and charm a few slices of warm, juicy char siu and crispy pork crackling before dinnertime. In this recipe, eggplant is marinated, char siu style, in a fragrant, fruity barbecue sauce. Eggplant, a renowned carrier of flavor, greedily absorbs the sauce before it is roasted at high heat, emerging sweet and silky, imbued with lots of dark, caramelized notes. A note for gluten intolerant cooks: make sure your hoisin sauce is gluten-free or use the homemade version on page 151. This marinade is incredibly versatile and can be used to marinate and roast firm tofu and other vegetables in the exact same way. This is best eaten with rice, of course, but it’s also good stuffed into a crusty roll with cilantro, mint and salad greens, or used to make eggplant char siu bao (there’s a bao recipe in To Asia, With Love).
Almost every region has its version of seasoned rice and beans, and the Middle East is no exception. For me, the highlight of mujaddara is the deeply caramelized onions that are simply irresistible. The dish also uses lentils, which largely retain their shape and give the dish its name: “mujaddara” means “pockmarked” or “pimpled” in Arabic. In this version, we cook the cauliflower rice and lentils separately to maximize texture.
Tzatziki, meanwhile, is a similar preparation to the Indian raita, but is usually thicker and creamier in consistency because it is made with Greek yogurt. I find the pairing of these dishes particularly alluring as a complete meal.
Chelo means “plain steamed rice” in Farsi, whereas polos are rice dishes with other ingredients folded in, like pilafs—I included a few variations of these.
If there’s one piece of equipment you’ll see in every Persian household, it’s a nonstick pot. Although I almost never use nonstick cookware, for this recipe, it’s essential. It makes life easy when you want to serve the rice on a platter, or flip and invert it for easy release. Trust me and pay the money to invest in that peace of mind.
Gumbo is my first love, all my love in one pot. A culmination of New Orleans’ history, the Germanic settlers who brought their spicy andouille sausage, the fishermen from the Canary Islands who furnished crabs, the Trinity, the House Spice, the Shrimp Stock. It is the first dish I learned how to make, start-to-finish, working through the stations of mise-en-place. Of course, for me back then, I simply experienced that as time spent in the kitchen with my mom and sister, stirring the roux until it darkened. I’m from a family of cooks; each relative has his or her dish. Uncle Herm is Shrimp Etouffee. Papa Winston is Curried Goat. Grandma Cassie is Chitlins. Tatiana’s cheesecake. and my mom has this. She’s so damn good at it -- and the ingredients so expensive for us growing up -- that she made seafood gumbo as a literal gift for my sister and I on Christmas. Better than any Playstation game, we ate it Christmas morning and for the next few days as the gumbo got better and better with age.
This simple and flavorful rice gets its color from spinach and kale.
I’ve heard that when we’re taking good care of ourselves, our bodies crave what they need. Well mine must need whatever is in this salad, because I find myself dreaming about it weekly! I’m also in a phase where I like to combine sweeter, richer foods like sweet potatoes and squash with a tart punch of citrus to balance things. This salad hits all of the right notes, and because it’s served at room temperature, you can make it the morning of and enjoy it all day long!
My mother always made curry with S&B or House Foods curry bricks, just as convenient as bouillon cubes. I like the convenient part, but I don’t care for all the additives that go into most of these store-bought brands. So I started making my own by blending a variety of spices including turmeric, which gives my curry a bright mustardy yellow color and pungent flavor. First you will need to make your own Japanese Curry Brick which you can keep in the fridge for 1 week or in the freezer for 3 months. The base stock is a cold-brew kombu and shiitake mushroom dashi, which can, like the curry brick, be made ahead of time. The curry is traditionally served with rice or noodles and fukujinzuke, a classic pickle made with seven vegetables, a perfect crunchy counterpart to the soft, mild curry.
These rice balls are inspired by my friends Lawrence and Noi Allen, who used to own one of the only Thai markets in Houston, Asia Market. I started going there to buy green papayas. But I never left with just papayas—each visit would start with me wandering the aisles, checking out all the different ingredients, until Lawrence would come over and strike up a conversation. He probably didn’t realize when he asked me if I needed help that I was going to bombard him with all kinds of questions about ingredients and Thai cooking, but he was always generous with his time and knowledge.