Thai Beef Stir-Fry

Solstice Festival downtown. Midnight kayaking. Midnight tennis. A pediatric burn case Tuesday. I came home and made adobo and did not write a blog post.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous.

I grilled fish Saturday. Salmon, marinated in calamansi and soy. The light at nine PM was still strong.

The blog has four hundred subscribers now who get the posts via email. The subscribers are the loyal core. The loyal core is the chorus.

The week was ordinary. The ordinary is the point now. The ordinary is the keeping.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

I read three chapters of the novel Saturday night before sleep. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The nurse was being undone by her work. I knew the unraveling. I had lived the unraveling. I read on. The reading was the witnessing.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

The salmon from Joseph’s catch is still waiting in the freezer, labeled in his handwriting, and I’m not ready to open that bag yet — some ingredients deserve the right moment. But the week had been full and the body needed feeding, and this Thai beef stir-fry is what happened on a Tuesday when I had thirty minutes and a full pan and no patience for anything complicated. Dr. Reeves said the cooking is the bridge, and I believe that — this one is fast and hot and honest, which is exactly what that week asked for.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/4 lbs flank steak, sliced thin against the grain
3 tablespoons fish sauce
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
1 tablespoon brown sugar
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
1–2 Thai red chilies, thinly sliced (adjust to heat preference)
1 red bell pepper, sliced into strips
1 cup snap peas, trimmed
1 medium yellow onion, sliced thin
2 tablespoons neutral oil (vegetable or avocado)
1/2 cup fresh Thai basil leaves (or regular basil)
Steamed jasmine rice, for serving
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Marinate the beef. In a bowl, whisk together fish sauce, soy sauce, lime juice, and brown sugar until sugar dissolves. Add the sliced beef and toss to coat. Let sit at room temperature for 10 minutes while you prep the vegetables.
Make the sauce. Reserve 3 tablespoons of the marinade in a small bowl and set aside. This becomes your finishing sauce.
Heat the pan. Heat a wok or large heavy skillet over high heat until it just begins to smoke. Add 1 tablespoon of oil and swirl to coat.
Sear the beef. Remove beef from marinade (discard the used marinade, not the reserved portion). Add beef to the hot pan in a single layer — work in two batches if needed to avoid steaming. Cook 1–2 minutes per side until deeply browned. Transfer to a plate.
Cook the aromatics and vegetables. Add remaining tablespoon of oil to the pan. Add garlic, ginger, and chilies and stir-fry 30 seconds until fragrant. Add onion, bell pepper, and snap peas and cook 3–4 minutes, tossing frequently, until vegetables are crisp-tender.
Finish the dish. Return beef to the pan along with reserved sauce. Toss everything together over high heat for 1 minute until coated and heated through. Remove from heat and fold in fresh basil.
Serve. Spoon over steamed jasmine rice. Serve with lime wedges alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Thai Beef Stir-Fry — The Week That Kept Moving, and the Meal That Kept Pace