Cookbook photo shoot week one. Vy and Emiko arrived Sunday afternoon. The first day Monday at the restaurant. The setup was extraordinary — Emiko's lighting equipment, three cameras on tripods, a stylist (a young Vietnamese-American woman named Quynh, who spoke Vietnamese with Mai when Mai came in for her shots), and a small team of four assistants. The kitchen was transformed into a photo studio while still functioning as a working kitchen. James cooked the dishes one at a time. Each dish was photographed in process and on the plate. Some dishes took an hour to shoot. Some took fifteen minutes.
I was at the restaurant Tuesday and Thursday. Lily had asked me to be there for the dishes that involved my recipes — for context, for Vy's questions, for the small ad-hoc conversations that would inform the headnotes and sidebars. Tuesday was the brisket. James cooked a fourteen-hour brisket starting at midnight Monday. Emiko photographed it being sliced at noon Tuesday. The bark was perfect. The smoke ring was visible. The slices fanned out on the wooden board. Vy stood next to me watching and said, "Bobby, this is the photograph." I said, "It's the brisket." She said, "It's both." It is both.
Mai came in Wednesday for her shots. Three dishes — the spring rolls, the pho, the bánh xèo — all of which she wanted to be made by her own hands and photographed accordingly. The team arranged a small workspace for her at the front of the dining room with the natural light coming in through the front window. Mai sat. Mai cooked. Mai didn't look at the cameras. Emiko got the photographs. Mai's hands. Mai's face in profile concentrating. Mai's spring rolls being rolled. The whole story in a series of frames. The book has its center now. The book has Mai.
Between the fourteen-hour brisket and Mai’s spring rolls, there were quieter moments — a folding table in the back hallway, a paper bag from the bakery down the street, a baguette torn open and shared with Vy while Emiko relit the dining room for the next setup. That lunch didn’t make it into the book, but it should have. Radishes, good butter, salt, and bread: the kind of thing you eat when you’re too full of something meaningful to need anything complicated.
Buttery Radish Baguette
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 2
Ingredients
- 1 fresh baguette (about 12 inches), halved lengthwise
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
- 1 bunch radishes (about 8–10), thinly sliced
- 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt, plus more to taste
- 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1 tablespoon fresh chives, finely chopped (optional)
- 1 teaspoon lemon juice (optional, for brightness)
Instructions
- Soften the butter. Allow the butter to sit at room temperature for at least 20 minutes until fully spreadable. If using lemon juice, mix it into the butter with a fork until combined.
- Prepare the radishes. Wash and trim the radishes, then slice them as thinly as possible — a mandoline works well here, but a sharp knife is fine. Pat the slices dry with a paper towel so they don’t water down the butter.
- Spread the butter. Spread the softened butter generously across both cut faces of the baguette. Don’t be shy — the butter is the whole point.
- Layer the radishes. Arrange the radish slices in overlapping layers across the buttered surface. Cover as much of the bread as possible for even flavor in each bite.
- Season and finish. Sprinkle flaky sea salt and black pepper evenly over the radishes. Add chopped chives if using. Close the baguette gently, press once to set, and slice into portions to serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 380 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 46g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 520mg