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Spaghetti Squash Pad Thai — The Fish Sauce That Started It All

The competition is Saturday. I haven't slept well all week. My brain won't shut off. I'm running through the cook in my head — timeline, temperature, when to wrap, when to spritz, what wood to use. Hector called me Tuesday night and said, "Bobby, relax. It's BBQ, not heart surgery." Easy for him to say. He's been doing this for three years. Prep work: I trimmed the brisket Thursday night. A sixteen-pound prime packer from a butcher in Bellaire who saves me the good ones because I've been buying from him for fifteen years. The fat cap needed half an inch taken off. The point-to-flat transition needed cleanup. I trimmed it while listening to Waylon Jennings and talking to the brisket, which is something I do and which I'm aware sounds insane. Friday: the marinade. Fish sauce, lemongrass, garlic, brown sugar, black pepper, a touch of lime zest. I've made this marinade a hundred times. But this time I added something new: a tablespoon of MSG. Yeah, I said it. MSG. Monosodium glutamate. The ingredient that Americans have been irrationally afraid of for fifty years. It's umami. It's what makes food taste like MORE. Every Vietnamese grandmother uses it. My mother puts it in everything and calls it "bột ngọt." I'm not hiding it. I'm using it because it makes the brisket better. Saturday, 2 AM: arrived at NRG Park with Hector's team. Set up the smoker. Lit the fire. Post oak, nothing else. The brisket went on at 3 AM. Turn-in was at 2 PM. Eleven hours. The morning was freezing — forty-eight degrees, which in Houston competition BBQ terms might as well be Antarctica. But cold is good for the smoker. The meat took on smoke beautifully. The bark developed dark and tight. I wrapped at 165 internal, butcher paper, with a splash of the marinade liquid. Then I waited. Hector ran the team logistics. I ran the brisket. We didn't talk much during the cook. You don't talk during a competition brisket. You watch. You listen. You check the fire. You trust the process. At 1 PM, I pulled it. 203 internal. Rested it for forty-five minutes. Sliced the turn-in samples: six slices from the flat, perfectly even, each one showing a quarter-inch smoke ring. The judges ate it. We waited. The results would come Sunday. I drove home at 4 PM, exhausted, reeking of smoke, and happier than I've been in months. Win or lose, I put my food in front of strangers and said: this is me. This is what I make. Judge it.

The marinade I built for that brisket — fish sauce, garlic, brown sugar, lime, MSG — is the same flavor DNA I come back to in my kitchen all week long. After I got home Saturday, reeking of post oak smoke and running on about four hours of sleep, I didn’t want to think about fire or butcher paper or internal temps. I wanted something fast that still had that same deep, honest umami punch. This Spaghetti Squash Pad Thai is exactly that — same fish sauce backbone, same unashamed MSG energy, same Vietnamese flavor instincts my mother taught me, just on a weeknight plate instead of a competition tray.

Spaghetti Squash Pad Thai

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 50 min | Total Time: 65 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 medium spaghetti squash (about 3 lbs), halved lengthwise and seeded
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 3 tablespoons fish sauce
  • 2 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 lime)
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon MSG (optional but encouraged)
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 1 lb medium shrimp, peeled and deveined (or 1 lb thinly sliced chicken breast)
  • 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
  • 1 1/2 cups bean sprouts
  • 4 green onions, thinly sliced
  • 1/4 cup roasted peanuts, roughly chopped
  • 1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves
  • 1 lime, cut into wedges for serving
  • Sriracha or chili flakes, to taste

Instructions

  1. Roast the squash. Preheat oven to 400°F. Brush the cut sides of the spaghetti squash with olive oil and season lightly with salt. Place cut-side down on a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment. Roast for 40–45 minutes until the flesh is fork-tender and pulls into strands easily. Set aside to cool slightly.
  2. Make the sauce. While the squash roasts, whisk together the fish sauce, soy sauce, lime juice, brown sugar, and MSG in a small bowl until the sugar dissolves. Taste and adjust — it should be salty, tangy, and a little sweet. Set aside.
  3. Shred the squash. Using a fork, scrape the flesh of the cooled squash into long strands. Spread the strands on a clean kitchen towel or paper towels and press gently to remove excess moisture. This step keeps the finished dish from getting watery.
  4. Cook the protein. Heat vegetable oil in a large wok or 12-inch skillet over high heat until shimmering. Add the garlic and ginger and stir-fry for 30 seconds until fragrant. Add the shrimp (or chicken) in a single layer. Cook without moving for 1–2 minutes, then toss and cook another 1–2 minutes until just cooked through. Push to one side of the pan.
  5. Scramble the eggs. Pour the beaten eggs into the empty side of the pan. Let them set for 20 seconds, then scramble lightly with a spatula and fold into the protein. The eggs should be just cooked — not dry.
  6. Add squash and sauce. Add the spaghetti squash strands to the pan. Pour the sauce over everything. Toss over high heat for 2–3 minutes until the squash is well coated, heated through, and beginning to caramelize slightly at the edges. Add the bean sprouts and half the green onions and toss for 30 more seconds.
  7. Serve. Divide into bowls and top with chopped peanuts, remaining green onions, and fresh cilantro. Serve with lime wedges and sriracha on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 980mg

Bobby Tran
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 102 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.

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