Houston turned the oven on this week. It's May and already hitting ninety. The humidity is the kind that hits you in the face when you open the front door, like the atmosphere is trying to fight you. I've lived here my whole life and every single year, without fail, I think: why do people live here. And then I eat at a taqueria on Airline Drive or get a bowl of pho on Bellaire and I remember. The food. The food is why.
Ma called me at 6 AM on Sunday — which is sleeping in for her — and told me her AC was making a noise. A "clicking noise," she said, which in Mai Tran's vocabulary could mean anything from a loose fan blade to the compressor dying. I went over. It was a loose fan blade. I tightened it. She made me sit down and eat breakfast even though I'd already eaten, because you don't say no to Mai Tran when she's putting food in front of you.
Breakfast was banh cuon — steamed rice crepe rolls filled with ground pork and wood ear mushroom, topped with crispy shallots and served with nuoc cham. My mother makes banh cuon from scratch. From scratch. She mixes the rice batter, stretches it over a steaming pot with a piece of cheesecloth, fills it, rolls it, and has it on the table in thirty minutes. She's been doing this since before I was born. Watching her hands work is like watching a machine — no wasted movement, no hesitation. She doesn't measure. She doesn't look at recipes. It's all in her hands.
I can't make banh cuon like her. I've tried. The batter tears, the filling falls out, the crepes are too thick or too thin. She watches me try and says nothing critical, which is how I know it's bad. When Mai Tran has no criticism, it means the situation is beyond criticism.
I need to learn this before — I'm not going to finish that sentence. She's seventy years old and healthy and sharp and she'll outlive us all out of spite. But I need to learn it.
Work was steady this week. Sold some prep tables to a new taco shop in the Heights. Had coffee with my buddy Hector, who runs a catering company and is one of my best customers. Hector's from Monterrey originally and his carnitas are a religious experience. We've been talking about doing a collaborative cookout — his carnitas, my brisket, maybe some fusion stuff. Nothing planned yet, just two guys drinking coffee and dreaming about meat.
Wednesday with the kids: I made banh mi — the Vietnamese sandwich. Baguette, pate, Vietnamese cold cuts, pickled daikon and carrot, jalapeño, cilantro, mayo. Tyler ate two. Emma ate one and said the pate was "weird but good," which is the correct assessment. Lily ate a PB&J. We're working on it.
Wednesday’s banh mi got me thinking about what makes a sandwich worth eating — that combination of crunch, salt, acid, and something a little unexpected. Not every weeknight has time for homemade pickled daikon and pate (and not every kid is ready for pate, Lily), but that doesn’t mean you have to settle. This sheet pan panini gives you the same satisfying structure: crispy bread, layered fillings, melted cheese, all pressed and toasted without needing any special equipment. Tyler would eat two of these too. I’d bet on it.
Easy Sheet Pan Panini
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 large ciabatta loaf or 4 individual ciabatta rolls, sliced in half lengthwise
- 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 3 tablespoons pesto or Dijon mustard (or a mix)
- 6 oz thinly sliced deli turkey or ham
- 4 oz thinly sliced salami or capicola
- 4 oz provolone or mozzarella, sliced
- 1/2 cup roasted red peppers, patted dry and sliced
- 1/2 cup baby arugula or spinach
- 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
- Salt and black pepper to taste
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 400°F. Place one large rimmed baking sheet in the oven to preheat while you assemble the sandwiches.
- Prep the bread. Brush the cut sides of the bread lightly with 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Spread pesto or mustard (or both) evenly across the bottom halves.
- Layer the fillings. Layer the turkey or ham, salami, cheese slices, and roasted red peppers evenly across the bottom halves. Add arugula or spinach on top of the fillings. Season lightly with garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Close the sandwiches firmly.
- Oil the tops. Brush the outside top of each sandwich with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil.
- Press and bake. Carefully remove the hot baking sheet from the oven. Place the assembled sandwiches on it, then set a second heavy baking sheet directly on top of the sandwiches to press them down. If needed, weigh the top pan with an oven-safe cast iron skillet or a few heavy cans wrapped in foil. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until the bread is golden and crispy and the cheese is fully melted.
- Slice and serve. Remove from the oven, let rest 2 minutes, then slice and serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 465 | Protein: 27g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 970mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 6 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.