Chocolate Dessert Wraps

Early September. The first hint of fall — a single morning at 76 degrees, which is summer-cool in Houston. The cookbook recipe testing accelerated this week. Five recipes a day. James in the restaurant kitchen during off-hours testing. Lily managing the schedule. Me at home retesting the family recipes once more. Vy flying in from New York Tuesday for two days of in-person review. The book is real and on a deadline.

Vy stayed at a hotel in Montrose. Three meals at the restaurant. One day at my house. Half a day at Mai's. Mai accepted Vy with the suspicious courtesy reserved for editors. Vy, to her enormous credit, asked Mai to teach her how to make spring rolls — a deferent move that won Mai over completely. They sat at Mai's kitchen table for two hours, Mai narrating in Vietnamese (Linh translating, because Vy's Vietnamese is conversational but not technical), Vy taking notes. The notes will go in the cookbook. Mai's spring rolls will appear with Mai's narration. The matriarch will be on the page. That is the thing the book will deliver. That is the thing that matters.

Tuesday night Vy joined the family for dinner at my house. I made pho. Lily and James came. Mai stayed home — too tired for two consecutive social days. The conversation was about food and about the book and about Vy's grandmother, who had been a cook in a small village in central Vietnam and who Vy had visited only twice in her life. Vy told us a story about her grandmother making bánh xèo over a wood fire when Vy was eight years old. Vy cried at my kitchen table. The four of us sat with her crying. James got up and went to the kitchen for tissues. Lily held Vy's hand. I sat in my chair and let her cry. The crying was the work. The book exists because of crying like this. The book is for everyone who has lost a grandmother and wants the recipe they didn't write down.

After Vy stopped crying and James came back with the tissues and Lily poured more tea, I needed to give everyone something small and sweet — not a production, not a statement, just something to hold in your hands while the room settled. I had tortillas and chocolate and bananas on the counter from an earlier test batch, and I thought about how Mai had spent two hours that afternoon teaching Vy to roll and fold, and how a wrap is just an envelope for something you want to keep safe. These chocolate dessert wraps are nothing like spring rolls. But that night, the folding felt right.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
1/2 cup Nutella or chocolate hazelnut spread
2 ripe bananas, thinly sliced
1/4 cup mini chocolate chips
1/4 cup sliced fresh strawberries
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
Powdered sugar, for dusting
Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Warm the tortillas. Lay the flour tortillas flat and microwave each one for about 10 seconds, or warm them briefly in a dry skillet over medium heat until pliable and soft.
Spread the chocolate. Spoon 2 tablespoons of chocolate hazelnut spread onto the center of each tortilla, spreading it in a thin, even layer and leaving about a 1-inch border around the edges.
Add the fruit. Layer banana slices and strawberry slices over the chocolate spread. Scatter a tablespoon of mini chocolate chips over the fruit on each tortilla.
Fold and roll. Fold the left and right sides of each tortilla inward over the filling, then roll from the bottom up tightly, like a burrito, to fully enclose the filling.
Pan-sear the wraps. Melt the butter in a skillet over medium heat. Place the wraps seam-side down and cook for 1 to 2 minutes per side, until the outside is lightly golden and the seams are sealed.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a cutting board and slice each wrap on the diagonal. Dust lightly with powdered sugar and serve warm, with whipped cream or a scoop of vanilla ice cream alongside if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chocolate Dessert Wraps — The Night We Sat With Vy’s Grief