By Back from Midland. Jet-lag-of-the-driving-kind. The cookbook proof final-edit is done — the book has gone to print. The first physical books are due in our hands April 2028. The release event is being planned for the restaurant. Vy is coordinating with the publisher for the marketing push. We have time. We use the time.
I started writing my private-cookbook chapters in earnest. Tyler and I agreed on this structure: six chapters, thirty recipes total, family photos throughout. My chapters: family origin recipes (pho, banh mi, spring rolls, thịt kho — five recipes), the smoker chapter (brisket, ribs, pulled pork, smoked sausage, smoked duck — five recipes), the fusion experiments (Vietnamese-Texan inventions — five recipes). Tyler's chapters: the things he learned from me, the things he's invented in Midland, and a forward-looking chapter for his kids. Thirty total. Six chapters. The shape works.
Made bún chả Hà Nội Sunday — the now-familiar dish, refined further. Mai over for it. Mai had been teaching me for two months a sub-technique she had not previously shared: a small splash of fish sauce stirred into the meat patties before grilling, so the sauce caramelizes during the cook and adds depth. The patties came out better. Mai tasted. Mai said, "Closer to Huong." Closer. Always closer. Never there. The chase continues.
The small Houston Restaurant Supply sales-job continues to be the small post-shrimp-boat career. The small fifteen-years-on-the-Galveston-Bay shrimp-boat had ended in 2018 when the small back went out and the small bending-and-hauling work became the small impossibility. The small restaurant-supply role is the small forty-hour-week-with-benefits the small post-shrimping life rests on.
The small Vietnamese-American community in Houston is the small social-spine. The small Bellaire-area is the small Little Saigon district. The small Hong Kong City Mall is the small Saturday-grocery-trip destination. The small Vietnamese church (Our Lady of Lavang) is the small Sunday-worship. The small community is the small refugee-and-immigrant-descended network that has been Bobby’s small lifelong-place.
Bobby’s parents came over from Vietnam in 1981 as the small boat-people-refugees. The small mother (Bich) lives in the small adjacent neighborhood. The small father (Hung) passed in 2020 from COVID. The small mother-visits are the small Sunday-afternoon-rhythm. The small pho-and-com-and-banh-mi heritage continues through the small mother-cooking-with-Bobby Sunday afternoons.
The small Houston Restaurant Supply sales-job continues to be the small post-shrimp-boat career. The small fifteen-years-on-the-Galveston-Bay shrimp-boat had ended in 2018 when the small back went out and the small bending-and-hauling work became the small impossibility. The small restaurant-supply role is the small forty-hour-week-with-benefits the small post-shrimping life rests on.
The three kids are now adults. Tyler is the small oldest, Emma is the small middle, Lily is the small youngest. The small divorce in 2015 (after Bobby’s affair) had been the small marriage-end. The small kids have been the small slow-rebuild of the small father-trust. The small Linh (Bobby’s older-sister, the small pediatrician in Houston) has been the small adult-presence the small kids look to.
The small Vietnamese-American community in Houston is the small social-spine. The small Bellaire-area is the small Little Saigon district. The small Hong Kong City Mall is the small Saturday-grocery-trip destination. The small Vietnamese church (Our Lady of Lavang) is the small Sunday-worship. The small community is the small refugee-and-immigrant-descended network that has been Bobby’s small lifelong-place.
The small backyard grill is the small Houston-cooking-engine. The small Vietnamese-grilled-pork (thit nuong), the small grilled-shrimp (the small irony of the small ex-shrimper still grilling shrimp), the small bo nuong (grilled-beef), the small ga nuong (grilled-chicken). The small charcoal-grill in the small backyard of the small Bellaire-bungalow runs almost every weekend.
Bobby’s parents came over from Vietnam in 1981 as the small boat-people-refugees. The small mother (Bich) lives in the small adjacent neighborhood. The small father (Hung) passed in 2020 from COVID. The small mother-visits are the small Sunday-afternoon-rhythm. The small pho-and-com-and-banh-mi heritage continues through the small mother-cooking-with-Bobby Sunday afternoons.
The small Houston-summer-heat-and-humidity is the small weather-reality. The small grill outdoors at five-AM-on-the-weekend trick is the small same trick the small Phoenix-firefighter Marcus uses but for different climate-reasons. The small Texas-Gulf-coast humidity is the small constant. The small Vietnamese-summer-cooking traditions are the small adaptation.
Mai said “closer” — not there, just closer — and that single word has been rattling around in my chest all week. The bún chà is getting better, the cookbook proof is done, and somehow all of that chasing-and-refining makes me want to put something simple and generous on the table for whoever walks through the door. These Mixed Olive Crostini are exactly that: no technique to master, no years of correction required, just good olives and good bread and a little heat, ready before the conversation even starts. I made them last Sunday before Mama came over, and they were gone before I remembered to take a picture.
Mixed Olive Crostini
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 12 (2 crostini per serving)
Ingredients
- 1 French baguette, sliced into 1/2-inch rounds (about 24 slices)
- 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 1 cup mixed olives (Kalamata, green, and Castelvetrano), pitted and roughly chopped
- 2 tablespoons capers, drained and roughly chopped
- 2 cloves garlic, 1 minced and 1 halved for rubbing
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/4 teaspoon dried)
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
- 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
- 4 oz ricotta or soft goat cheese (optional, for spreading)
- Fresh cracked black pepper, to taste
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Heat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Arrange the baguette slices in a single layer on a baking sheet.
- Toast the bread. Brush one side of each slice lightly with about 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. Bake for 8–10 minutes, until the edges are golden and the tops are just crisp. Remove from the oven and immediately rub the toasted side of each slice with the cut face of the halved garlic clove. Let cool slightly.
- Make the olive mixture. In a small bowl, combine the chopped olives, capers, minced garlic, lemon juice, thyme, red pepper flakes, parsley, and remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Stir well and season with fresh cracked black pepper. Taste — the olives and capers bring their own salt, so add more only if needed.
- Assemble. If using ricotta or goat cheese, spread a thin layer onto each toasted slice first. Spoon the olive mixture generously over the top of each crostino, pressing lightly so it holds.
- Serve. Arrange on a platter and serve immediately. The olive mixture can be made up to two days ahead and refrigerated; toast the bread fresh just before serving.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 118 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 11g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 290mg