Valentine's Day itself was fine. The kids are at Christine's this week, so I spent the evening alone, which I genuinely don't mind. I smoked a rack of baby back ribs on the kamado — low and slow, three hours, my tamarind glaze — and ate them in front of the TV watching reruns of "Parts Unknown" because Anthony Bourdain is the only Valentine I need.
Bourdain gets it. He gets that food is not about technique or trends or Instagram. It's about people. It's about sitting at a table with strangers and letting the food do the talking. His show makes me feel less weird about being a guy who cares this much about what he eats and what he cooks. In a world that wants men to microwave things and call it dinner, Bourdain says: no. Cook. Care. Sit down. Be present.
I've been reading his book, "Kitchen Confidential," for the third time. Every time I read it, I find something new. This time it's the line about how the people who work in kitchens are the ones who couldn't fit anywhere else. That's me. I didn't fit in school. I didn't fit in college (never went). I barely fit on the shrimp boats. But I fit in a kitchen. I always have. The kitchen is the one room where everything I am — Vietnamese, Texan, dropout, alcoholic, father — comes together and makes sense.
Work this week: I picked up a new account — a Vietnamese restaurant chain that's expanding to four locations. They need equipment packages for all four kitchens. This is potentially the biggest deal of my career. The owner, a woman named Thuy who came to Houston from Saigon in 1982, speaks to me in Vietnamese and we negotiate over coffee at her flagship restaurant on Bellaire. She makes the best bun bo Hue I've ever had outside my mother's kitchen. I told her this and she said, "Your mother's is better." She hasn't tried my mother's. She was being polite. But she's probably right.
Ma is doing well. Blood pressure steady. Pill organizer being used. She made me try her new recipe — a caramelized shrimp dish with coconut milk that she'd been experimenting with. It was exceptional. I said, "This is new." She said, "I'm seventy, not dead. I can still learn." Seventy and still evolving. That's the woman who raised me.
We should all be so lucky as to still be learning at seventy.
Ma’s caramelized shrimp with coconut milk has been living rent-free in my head all week — the way she just quietly evolved the dish, no fanfare, no recipe card, just seventy years of instinct and curiosity doing the work. I couldn’t stop thinking about those flavors: the deep, dark sweetness of caramel, the richness of coconut. So after the ribs were gone and the Bourdain credits rolled, I pulled this Coconut Caramel Poke Cake together — something warm and indulgent and a little bit her. She’d probably say hers is better. She’d probably be right.
Coconut Caramel Poke Cake
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min (plus chilling) | Servings: 12
Ingredients
- 1 box (15.25 oz) white or yellow cake mix, plus ingredients called for on the box (eggs, oil, water)
- 1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk
- 1/2 cup caramel sauce (store-bought or homemade), plus more for drizzling
- 1 can (13.5 oz) full-fat coconut milk
- 1 container (8 oz) whipped topping (such as Cool Whip), thawed
- 1 cup sweetened shredded coconut, toasted
- 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt (optional, for finishing)
Instructions
- Bake the cake. Prepare cake batter according to package directions. Pour into a greased 9x13-inch baking pan and bake as directed, usually 28—33 minutes at 350°F, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Remove from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes.
- Poke and soak. Using the handle of a wooden spoon or a large skewer, poke holes all over the top of the warm cake, spacing them about 1 inch apart. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sweetened condensed milk, coconut milk, and caramel sauce until combined. Slowly pour the mixture evenly over the entire cake, allowing it to absorb into the holes. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or overnight for best results.
- Toast the coconut. While the cake chills, spread shredded coconut in a single layer in a dry skillet over medium heat. Toast, stirring frequently, for 3—5 minutes until golden and fragrant. Transfer to a plate and let cool.
- Top and finish. Spread whipped topping evenly over the chilled cake. Drizzle generously with additional caramel sauce. Scatter toasted coconut over the top. Finish with a pinch of flaky sea salt if desired.
- Slice and serve. Cut into 12 squares and serve cold directly from the pan. Store leftovers covered in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 60g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 310mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 47 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.