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.
There’s nothing new about marinating chicken with herbs and citrus, but the addition of fish sauce takes this tried-and-true technique to something seriously next level. The fish sauce works its way deep into the chicken to impart its funky, salty flavor all the way through. This recipe also shows off the special relationship between fish sauce and sugar (in this case, honey) and how they work together to create caramelization without tipping the scales of flavor into something too sweet. If you’d rather not mess with a whole chicken, feel free to swap in chicken thighs or breasts.
In 2013, after we finished our second peach season, we took off on a five-month trip around the world, including six weeks in India. We zigzagged across the country, starting in Kolkata and ending in New Delhi, with a visit to Nepal along the way. One evening, on a rooftop in the northern city of Varanasi, we ate a peanut salad that we still think about to this day. Creating one for this cookbook felt special—a nod to that extraordinary trip and something that we really wanted to get right. We think we did. The Thai chile and basil, which can be found at your local Asian market; the fish sauce, which contributes complex salty flavors to the dish; the fresh fruits tumbled together with the crunch of peanuts—this is the magic you long for in a summery side dish.
This is a wonderful dish of vaguely Vietnamese origins, where it is more commonly served with dill than coriander (cilantro). Both work well in my opinion, or use a mixture of the two herbs.
Like cucumber, watermelon loses much of its spirit when subjected to heat, so I almost never recommend it any way other than cold and raw. I’ve made an exception here because more people need to know about the wizardry that happens when watermelon and pork cook slowly together. Everybody who eats this will think the watermelon is tomato. Everybody.
What do you do when you have leftover chicken from khao mun gai or gai yang? You turn it into a dish befitting the situation. My mother did that best, letting very little go to waste. You could poach chicken just for this salad and it would be delicious, especially if you serve it slightly warm. What’s even better, the next time you make khao mun gai, poach extra chicken to make yum gai the next day. If you’re not starting with leftovers, poach raw chicken and tear it into strands. I like adding the skin — it provides richness and moisture, the way oil does in Western salads. Slice it into thin strands.
Recipe note from host Francis Lam:
For our take on Thai grilled chicken, we started with Cornish hens, which are similar in size to the hens traditionally used by chicken vendors in Thailand. Butterflying and flattening the hens helped them cook more quickly and evenly on the grill. We created a marinade consisting of cilantro leaves and stems (a substitute for hard-to-find cilantro root), lots of garlic, white pepper, ground coriander, brown sugar, and fish sauce; thanks to its pesto-like consistency, it clung to the hens instead of sliding off. We set up a half-grill fire and started cooking the hens skin side up over the cooler side of the grill so the fatty skin had time to slowly render while the meat cooked; then we finished them over the hotter side to crisp the skin. We whipped up a version of the traditional sweet-tangy-spicy dipping sauce by combining equal parts white vinegar and sugar and simmering the mixture until it was slightly thickened and would cling nicely to the chicken. Plenty of minced garlic and Thai chiles balanced the sauce with savory, fruity heat.
Great for pho beginners, this recipe is also terrific for cooks in a hurry. It involves less than 45 minutes, during which you’ll doctor up store-bought broth so it says, “I’m pho-ish.”
You can put whatever you like in this as long as it’s green—kale, Chinese leaf, small zucchini, raw young peas, fava beans, whatever. You can reduce the range, too, so you don’t have to use all the herbs. Take care with the dressing. It needs a good sweet-sour-salty-hot balance, so taste and adjust it as you go before tossing with the vegetables.