Emma and Daniel went on a date. An actual date. Outside the restaurant. Without brisket.
She told me Thursday afternoon, casual as breathing. "I'm going out Saturday after service." I said, "Where?" She said, "A place in Montrose. Thai food." I said, "With who?" She said, "Daniel."
I said nothing for three seconds. She said, "Dad."
"He's a good kid," I said.
"He's twenty-one," she said.
"He eats pho correctly," I said.
"That's your criteria?" she said.
"Among other things," I said.
Saturday: Emma worked the service until 10 PM. She changed out of her kitchen clothes in the bathroom — I didn't see what she wore, which is appropriate because fathers shouldn't have opinions about their daughters' date outfits. She left at 10:15. Daniel picked her up in a Honda Accord (not Tyler's Honda, a different Honda, which is either coincidence or destiny).
I didn't wait up. I'm forty-six and I don't wait up for my eighteen-year-old daughter's dates. I went to bed at 11. I checked my phone at 11:30. I checked it again at 12. She texted at 12:15: "Home at Christine's. Had a great time. Thai food was good but our pho is better." That's my girl.
Tyler's reaction: "About time." He'd apparently noticed Daniel's interest weeks before I did. "The guy comes in four nights a week, Dad. He's not coming for the brisket." He's right. The brisket is good but it's not four-nights-a-week good. Daniel is coming for Emma.
Lily's reaction: "I need to update his customer profile in the database." She has a customer database. She's sixteen.
Ma's reaction: I told her Sunday at pho. She said, "The nurse?" I said, "Yes." She said, "Filipino?" I said, "Filipino-American." She said, "Can he cook?" I said, "I don't know, Ma." She said, "Find out."
Finding out if Daniel can cook is now my assignment. Because in the Tran family, cooking ability is the primary metric for romantic suitability. This is not normal. This is us.
Made bo luc lac this week — the shaking beef that never fails. Ate it at home, alone, thinking about my daughter going on a date with a nurse who eats pho correctly and drives a Honda Accord and might, if Ma's standards are met, be someone worth knowing.
I said I made bo luc lac that week, and I did — but I also made these, because after Emma texted from Christine’s and I finally put the phone down, I still had to do something with my hands. She’d eaten Thai food on her date and said ours was better, which is the kind of loyalty that gets you through a Saturday night. These Thai Peanut Chicken Quesadillas are what happens when a Vietnamese cook raids the pantry and thinks about Montrose: fast, a little borrowed, a little stubborn, and better than you expect them to be.
Thai Peanut Chicken Quesadillas
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 cups cooked chicken breast, shredded or thinly sliced
- 4 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
- 1 1/2 cups shredded Monterey Jack or mozzarella cheese
- 1 cup shredded purple cabbage
- 1/2 cup shredded carrots
- 3 green onions, thinly sliced
- 1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves
- 1 tablespoon neutral oil (vegetable or canola), plus more as needed
- For the Thai peanut sauce:
- 1/3 cup creamy peanut butter
- 2 tablespoons soy sauce
- 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
- 1 tablespoon honey
- 1 teaspoon sesame oil
- 1 teaspoon sriracha (or more to taste)
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 2–3 tablespoons warm water, to thin
Instructions
- Make the peanut sauce. Whisk together the peanut butter, soy sauce, lime juice, honey, sesame oil, sriracha, and garlic in a small bowl until smooth. Add warm water one tablespoon at a time until the sauce is pourable but not watery. Taste and adjust heat or lime as needed. Set aside.
- Toss the chicken. In a medium bowl, combine the shredded chicken with 3 tablespoons of the peanut sauce and toss to coat evenly.
- Assemble the quesadillas. Lay a tortilla flat. Spread a thin layer of peanut sauce over one half. Layer on a quarter of the cheese, a quarter of the sauced chicken, a handful of cabbage, some carrots, green onions, and cilantro. Fold the bare half over the filling to close. Repeat with remaining tortillas.
- Cook until golden. Heat a large skillet or griddle over medium heat and add about 1/2 teaspoon of oil. Place one quesadilla in the pan and cook 2–3 minutes per side, pressing gently with a spatula, until the exterior is golden brown and the cheese is fully melted. Work in batches, adding oil as needed between quesadillas.
- Slice and serve. Transfer to a cutting board and let rest for 1 minute before cutting into wedges. Serve with remaining peanut sauce on the side for dipping.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 520 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 780mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 270 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.