One week. Huong arrives next Saturday. I have a list. I am the list man now. Groceries: check. Airport logistics: check (Linh driving, me in the passenger seat, Mai staying home because the airport is too much and she wants to be at her house when Huong walks in). Guest room: check (Mai has inspected it four times). Welcome feast menu: finalized. Mì quảng. Bánh tráng cuốn thịt heo. Bobby's pho (not Mai's — Mai will make hers the next day, and the comparison will be the entertainment). Brisket. Because Huong has never had brisket and that is a situation that needs correcting.
I'm nervous. Not about the logistics — I can manage logistics. Nervous about what happens when two eighty-year-old women who last saw each other as young mothers in Saigon see each other again in a living room in Texas. Nervous about whether the food will be good enough. Nervous about whether "good enough" is even possible when the occasion is this big. Some meals are just meals. Some meals are ceremonies. This one is a ceremony, and I am the officiant of the food, and I need it to be right.
Emma brought Ava over Wednesday. Ava is walking now — toddling, really, three or four steps before she grabs furniture — and her vocabulary consists of "Da" (which means either Daniel or an expression of general excitement), "Ba" (which means either Bobby or nothing at all), and "Nah" (which means no, absolutely not, under no circumstances, and also sometimes yes). She is ten months old and already a communicator. She pointed at the smoker and said, "Ba!" I choose to believe she was saying my name. Emma says she was saying nonsense. I know what I heard.
Made a final test batch of mì quảng — the Da Nang turmeric noodles that will be the centerpiece of the arrival feast. This version was the best yet: the broth was deep and golden from the turmeric, the shrimp and pork were perfectly tender, and the toppings — sesame rice crackers, peanuts, herbs, lime — added the textural complexity that makes this dish special. I brought a bowl to Mai. She tasted it. She nodded. She said, "Huong will like this." That is not a compliment about my cooking. It is a prophecy about my cooking. And coming from Mai, it is the same thing.
The mì quáng took everything I had that week — every test batch, every tweak, every anxious spoonful I brought to Mai for her verdict. I needed one night where the stakes were low, where I could cook something unfamiliar just to remind myself that cooking is also supposed to be fun. These jackfruit tacos were exactly that: a curiosity I’d been meaning to try, something completely outside the ceremony, a meal that didn’t have to be right for anyone but me. Turns out they were very right.
Jackfruit Tacos
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 4 (2 tacos each)
Ingredients
- 2 cans (20 oz each) young green jackfruit in brine or water, drained and rinsed
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon chili powder
- 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 1/2 cup barbecue sauce or salsa verde
- 2 tablespoons soy sauce or tamari
- 8 small corn or flour tortillas, warmed
- 1/2 cup shredded purple cabbage
- 1 avocado, sliced
- 1/4 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
- 2 limes, cut into wedges
- Sour cream or vegan crema, for serving
- Pickled red onions, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Prep the jackfruit. Drain and rinse the jackfruit thoroughly. Pat dry with paper towels, then use your hands or two forks to pull apart the jackfruit pieces into shreds, discarding any tough core pieces or seeds.
- Sauté aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the sliced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5–6 minutes until softened and lightly golden. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Season and cook the jackfruit. Add the shredded jackfruit to the skillet. Sprinkle in the chili powder, smoked paprika, cumin, garlic powder, cayenne (if using), salt, and pepper. Stir well to coat, then cook over medium-high heat for 5 minutes, letting the jackfruit begin to caramelize and take on color at the edges.
- Add sauce and simmer. Pour in the barbecue sauce (or salsa verde) and soy sauce. Stir to combine, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook for an additional 10–12 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce is absorbed and the jackfruit is tender and slightly crispy at the edges. Taste and adjust seasoning.
- Warm the tortillas. Char tortillas directly over a gas flame for 20–30 seconds per side, or warm them in a dry skillet over medium heat until pliable and lightly toasted.
- Assemble the tacos. Spoon a generous portion of jackfruit onto each tortilla. Top with shredded purple cabbage, avocado slices, cilantro, and pickled red onions if using. Finish with a squeeze of lime and a drizzle of crema.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 340 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 54g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 620mg