By April. The restaurant is weeks from opening. The kitchen has been through three practice services — full menu runs with twenty invited guests each time, feedback collected, adjustments made. I attended the second practice service and sat at the bar and watched the kitchen operate and I saw something I'd been hoping to see: it worked. The tickets came in, James called the orders, the line cooks responded, the food came out. The brisket was sliced and plated with the nuoc mam glaze. The spring rolls were assembled cleanly. The jollof rice was golden. The smoker in the window was burning and the smoke was visible from the street and a man walking his dog on Westheimer stopped and looked in and I saw the look on his face: curiosity. That's the first step. Curiosity becomes a visit. A visit becomes a meal. A meal becomes a regular. That's how restaurants survive. One curious person at a time.
Brought Mai to the practice service. She sat at a corner table and ate everything. She tasted the spring rolls and said, "Close." She tasted the pho (they serve a small bowl as a starter) and said, "Different." She tasted the brisket and said nothing for ten seconds and then said, "Bobby, this is good." She said it about the restaurant's brisket, made from my recipe by my son-in-law in my daughter's kitchen. The chain. The fire. The continuation.
Made a quiet dinner at home: steamed rice with a fried egg and fish sauce. The simplest meal in Vietnamese cooking. The meal that requires nothing and delivers everything. I ate it standing at the counter and thought about the restaurant and the retirement and the fact that my life is about to change and I'm not afraid of it. I was afraid of the boat. I was afraid of the bottle. I was afraid of the empty house and the cold mornings and the years I lost. I'm not afraid of this. This is the reward.
After the practice service, after watching Mai eat the brisket and say nothing for ten seconds and then say it was good — I drove home and I did not want anything complicated. The simplest meals are the ones that tell the truth, and this salad is that kind of meal: crunchy, bright, a little heat, a little sweet, everything in balance. You don’t have to earn it. You just make it and eat it and let the evening be what it was.
Chopped Thai Crunch Salad with Sweet and Spicy Dressing
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 3 cups shredded purple cabbage
- 2 cups shredded green cabbage
- 1 cup shredded carrots
- 1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
- 4 green onions, thinly sliced
- 1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves
- 1/2 cup fresh mint leaves
- 1/2 cup roasted salted peanuts, roughly chopped
- 1/4 cup crispy wonton strips (optional)
- Sweet and Spicy Dressing:
- 3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
- 2 tablespoons fish sauce
- 2 tablespoons honey or agave
- 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
- 1 tablespoon sesame oil
- 2 teaspoons sriracha or chili garlic sauce, more to taste
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
Instructions
- Make the dressing. Whisk together lime juice, fish sauce, honey, rice vinegar, sesame oil, sriracha, garlic, and ginger in a small bowl until fully combined. Taste and adjust heat or sweetness as needed. Set aside.
- Prep the vegetables. Shred both cabbages and carrots if not using pre-shredded. Thinly slice the red bell pepper and green onions. Roughly chop cilantro and mint.
- Assemble the salad. Combine purple cabbage, green cabbage, carrots, red bell pepper, and green onions in a large bowl. Add cilantro and mint and toss gently.
- Dress and toss. Pour the dressing over the salad and toss until everything is evenly coated. Let sit for 5 minutes to allow the flavors to meld and the cabbage to soften slightly.
- Finish and serve. Top with chopped peanuts and crispy wonton strips if using. Serve immediately for maximum crunch.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 620mg