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Beef Wellington Fried Wontons — The Fusion That Brings Everyone to the Table

Easter weekend. Not religious in this house, but holidays are gathering occasions and gathering is religion enough. Twelve at the table at Mai's — Mai, me, Linh, Linh's husband Richard, Mei (in from Dallas), David (the NASA nephew, who walked in carrying a plastic dinosaur for Ava because David is now thirty-five and still a kid in his own way), Tyler and Jessica who drove in from Midland with Marcus, Emma and Daniel and Ava who walked in chanting "EASTER EASTER EASTER" because Daniel had spent the morning teaching her the word. Lily came late from the restaurant after lunch service. James stayed at the kitchen.

Mai cooked the main spread — her thit kho with eggs, garlic-fried rice, a whole steamed fish with ginger and scallion that she stood over the steamer monitoring like air traffic control. I brought a smoked leg of lamb done Vietnamese-style with lemongrass, garlic, fish sauce, and a final brushing of nuoc cham glaze. The fusion that's become my signature. The lamb sliced pink in the middle, the bark dark and salty, the glaze tying everything together. Mai tasted it, considered it for a long moment, and said, "Better than last year." Three words, comparative. From Mai, this is a triumph.

Marcus, six months old, sat in his bumper chair and watched the table from below. Ava, almost two, fed him a Cheerio. He spit it out. She fed him another. He spit it out. The cycle repeated for twenty minutes, both children completely committed to the project, neither of them succeeding, both of them having a great time. Daniel said, "He's not going to eat that, Ava." Ava said, "He WILL." She has the faith of a future older cousin. She will be right someday, just not today.

Mai got tired by 4 PM. She sat on the couch with Marcus on her lap and her eyes closed and her hand resting on his back. She didn't fall asleep. She just rested. I watched her for a long time. The matriarch with the great-grandchild on her lap, the kitchen behind them still warm from the cooking, the family in the next room still arguing about politics — that's a photograph that doesn't need a camera. I keep it in my head. I don't need to take it.

Mai’s approval of my lamb — those three words, “better than last year” — reminded me that the food I love most lives exactly at the crossing of two worlds. The Vietnamese-French fusion that shaped my cooking isn’t a compromise; it’s a whole language of its own, and these Beef Wellington Fried Wontons are the appetizer version of that same sentence. I started making them for big gatherings because they disappear fast, they travel well from the kitchen to whoever is holding Marcus, and they give people something to do with their hands while they argue about politics in the next room.

Beef Wellington Fried Wontons

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 24 wontons

Ingredients

  • 8 oz beef tenderloin, very finely diced (or ground)
  • 1 tbsp olive oil
  • 8 oz cremini mushrooms, finely minced
  • 2 shallots, minced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 tbsp dry sherry or Madeira
  • 1 tbsp fresh thyme leaves
  • 2 tbsp Dijon mustard
  • 2 oz chicken liver pâté or smooth liver mousse (optional but traditional)
  • 1/2 tsp kosher salt
  • 1/4 tsp black pepper
  • 24 square wonton wrappers
  • 1 egg, beaten (for sealing)
  • Vegetable oil, for frying (about 3 cups)
  • Dijon or whole-grain mustard, for dipping

Instructions

  1. Make the duxelles. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms and cook, stirring frequently, for 8–10 minutes until all moisture has evaporated and the mushrooms are dry and deeply browned. Add shallots and garlic and cook 2 more minutes. Add sherry and cook until absorbed, about 1 minute. Stir in thyme, salt, and pepper. Remove from heat and let cool completely.
  2. Sear the beef. In the same skillet over high heat, add a touch more oil and sear the diced beef for 1–2 minutes, just until browned on the outside but still rare inside. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Transfer to a bowl and let cool completely. The beef will finish cooking during frying.
  3. Make the filling. Combine the cooled duxelles, seared beef, Dijon mustard, and pâté (if using) in a bowl. Stir until well mixed. Taste and adjust seasoning. Refrigerate for 10 minutes to firm up.
  4. Fill the wontons. Lay a wonton wrapper flat on a clean surface. Place 1 heaping teaspoon of filling in the center. Brush two adjacent edges with beaten egg. Fold the wrapper diagonally to form a triangle, pressing firmly to seal and pushing out any air pockets. Fold the two base corners up and press together to form a classic wonton shape, sealing with egg wash. Repeat with remaining wrappers and filling.
  5. Fry the wontons. Heat 2 inches of vegetable oil in a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven to 350°F. Working in batches of 6, fry wontons for 2–3 minutes, turning once, until deep golden brown and crispy. Transfer to a paper-towel-lined plate. Maintain oil temperature between batches.
  6. Serve immediately. Arrange on a platter with small bowls of Dijon mustard and, if you want to push the fusion all the way, a light nuoc cham for dipping. Serve hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 78 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 7g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 142mg

Bobby Tran
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 457 of Bobby’s 30-year story · Houston, Texas
Bobby Tran was born in a refugee camp in Arkansas to parents who fled Saigon with nothing. He grew up in Houston straddling two worlds — Vietnamese at home, Texan everywhere else — and learned to cook from his mother's pho and a neighbor's BBQ smoker. He's a former shrimper, a recovering alcoholic, a divorced dad of three, and the guy who marinates brisket in fish sauce and lemongrass because he doesn't believe in borders, especially when it comes to flavor.

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