Christmas at Smoke and Fish Sauce. The restaurant's first Christmas service. We did Christmas Eve dinner — a special menu: the Bobby Tran Christmas, featuring the Smoked Brisket Pho, the fried turkey (Vietnamese brine, deep-fried), Ma's spring rolls, Emma's tiramisu, and a new addition: Tyler's smoked whole fish as the centerpiece.
Sixty covers on Christmas Eve. The dining room was full. Candles on every table. The red wall glowing. Ma's photo lit softly. The sign illuminated.
Ma sat at her table in the ao dai — the second Christmas she's worn it to the restaurant. She looked at the room and she looked tired and she looked proud and she ate a bowl of pho and a plate of spring rolls and she fell asleep at 8:30 PM in her chair, the way she always does.
Christmas Day: private. The restaurant was closed. Family dinner at my house. The old backyard. The old smoker. The original offset, running one brisket for eight people: me, Tyler, Ashley, Emma, Daniel, Lily, Ma, and Linh.
The pho was Ma's. The twelve-hour version, made in my kitchen, supervised by Ma from the couch where she sat because standing for twelve hours is beyond her now. She called corrections from the living room: "More fish sauce!" "Did you skim?" "The ginger is not charred enough!" She doesn't need to be in the kitchen. Her voice IS the kitchen.
Presents were exchanged. The usual suspects. But two gifts stood out:
Daniel gave Emma a cookbook: "The Food of Vietnam" by Luke Nguyen — the same book I gave her three years ago. He didn't know I'd given it to her. He chose it independently, because he knows her, because he pays attention to what she loves. Emma held both copies — mine and his — and said, "Now I have one for the restaurant and one for home." Smart girl.
Tyler gave Ma a small wooden box he'd made at HCC — walnut, hand-joined, lined with velvet. Inside: nothing. "For your photographs, Ba Noi," he said. "The ones from the boat. They deserve a proper box." Ma opened the box, ran her hand along the velvet interior, and held it against her chest. The same gesture she makes with every gift that goes too deep. She put the box in her lap and kept it there for the rest of the evening.
A box for the photographs. A box for the memories. A grandson building a container for his grandmother's survival.
Merry Christmas. The fire burns at home. The fire burns at the restaurant. The fire burns everywhere we are.
After two days of fire — the restaurant on Christmas Eve, the smoker in the backyard on Christmas Day — what you want at the end of the night is something quiet and small in your hand. Ma was asleep by 8:30 the night before; on Christmas Day she stayed awake long past that, the walnut box in her lap, not saying much. Tyler had made a container for something that can’t be contained. We passed these Triple Nut Snowballs around the table as the smoker cooled and nobody needed to say anything, which is the highest thing food can do. They’re simple, they’re dusted white like something just landed, and they taste like a house where people have been cooking all day.
Triple Nut Snowballs
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min (plus 30 min chilling) | Servings: 36 cookies
Ingredients
- 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
- 1/2 cup powdered sugar, plus 1 1/2 cups more for rolling
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1/4 teaspoon almond extract
- 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
- 1/3 cup finely chopped walnuts
- 1/3 cup finely chopped pecans
- 1/3 cup finely chopped almonds
Instructions
- Toast the nuts. In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast the walnuts, pecans, and almonds together, stirring frequently, until fragrant and lightly golden, about 4–5 minutes. Transfer to a cutting board, let cool completely, then chop finely. Set aside.
- Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat softened butter and 1/2 cup powdered sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add vanilla and almond extracts and beat to combine.
- Add dry ingredients. Reduce mixer to low and gradually add flour and salt, mixing just until the dough comes together. Do not overmix. Fold in all three chopped nuts by hand with a spatula until evenly distributed.
- Chill the dough. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. This helps the dough firm up and keeps the snowballs from spreading in the oven.
- Preheat and shape. Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Roll chilled dough into 1-inch balls (roughly 1 tablespoon each) and place about 1 inch apart on prepared baking sheets.
- Bake. Bake for 13–15 minutes, until the bottoms are just barely golden and the tops look set but not browned. The cookies should look pale — do not overbake.
- First roll in sugar. Let cookies cool for 5 minutes on the pan, then while still warm, roll each one gently in powdered sugar to coat. Place on a wire rack to cool completely.
- Second roll in sugar. Once fully cooled, roll each cookie in powdered sugar a second time for a thick, snowy coating. Tap off any excess and arrange on a serving plate or store in an airtight container.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 118 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 11g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 18mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 285 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.