Fourth of July in Bobby Tran's backyard is not a small operation.
I started smoking at 2 AM on the third. Two packer briskets and four racks of St. Louis ribs. By the time the sun came up, the neighborhood smelled like post oak and America, and my next-door neighbor's dog was sitting at my fence line staring at the smoker with the intensity of a man who's been told there's treasure inside.
The Fourth falls on a Monday this year, so it's a long weekend, and I've got the kids. All three. Plus Ma came over, and Linh brought her family — her husband Richard, and their kids Mei and David. The Gutierrez family from across the street. Hector brought his wife and kids and a cooler full of ceviche. Tam Nguyen and his wife. Twenty-six people in my backyard, which is not a large backyard, but we make it work.
Here's the menu: fish sauce brisket, spare ribs with a tamarind glaze, smoked sausage links, spring rolls (Ma made these — I don't compete with her on spring rolls), coleslaw, corn on the cob with chili-lime butter, watermelon, and banana pudding that Christine sent with the kids because she makes the best banana pudding in Katy and she knows it.
I'm going to say something controversial: Christine's banana pudding was the best thing at the party. Better than my brisket. I'll deny saying this if asked.
The fireworks were the cheap kind from the stand on Highway 6 — sparklers and bottle rockets and those little tanks that drive in a circle and do nothing. Tyler was in charge of the fireworks, which means a fourteen-year-old boy had access to minor explosives, which means I was watching him like a hawk while pretending not to watch him. He was responsible. Mostly. One bottle rocket went sideways and scared the Nguyen's cat. We don't talk about it.
Lily was afraid of the loud ones. She sat in Ma's lap with her hands over her ears and Ma held her and hummed a Vietnamese song I haven't heard since I was small. Something about a river. Something about going home. Ma's voice is thin now, not the full-throated singing I remember from childhood, but Lily didn't care. She fell asleep in Ma's arms at 9:30 PM with sparkler smoke still hanging in the air.
Emma took photos on the phone Christine got her for her birthday. Twelve years old with a phone. I have opinions about this but I've been overruled by Christine and by the entire modern world. She took a photo of me standing at the smoker with tongs in one hand and a La Croix in the other and posted it somewhere. I don't know where. The internet, probably.
Good day. Full belly. Family close. Fireworks fading. This country has its problems but the Fourth of July in a Houston backyard with people you love is hard to argue with.
Between the brisket and the ribs and Ma’s spring rolls, I needed at least one thing on that table that I didn’t have to babysit — something cool and bright that could hold its own next to twenty-six people’s worth of food in July heat. Watermelon was already on the menu, so this herbed yogurt salad was the natural move: cut the melon, make the sauce, done. It sat in the middle of the table and disappeared faster than anything else I didn’t cook at 2 AM. The kids ate it. Hector’s wife asked for the recipe. High praise for something that took fifteen minutes.
Watermelon Salad with Herbed Yogurt Sauce
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 10
Ingredients
- 9 cups seedless watermelon, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 1/2 medium watermelon)
- 1 English cucumber, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced
- 1/4 cup red onion, very thinly sliced
- 1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
- 1/3 cup fresh mint leaves, torn
- 2 tablespoons fresh dill, roughly chopped
- Flaky sea salt and cracked black pepper, to finish
- For the Herbed Yogurt Sauce:
- 1 cup plain whole-milk Greek yogurt
- 3 tablespoons fresh mint, finely chopped
- 2 tablespoons fresh dill, finely chopped
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1 teaspoon lemon zest
- 1 small clove garlic, finely grated
- 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Make the herbed yogurt sauce. In a medium bowl, whisk together the Greek yogurt, chopped mint, chopped dill, lemon juice, lemon zest, grated garlic, olive oil, salt, and pepper until smooth and combined. Taste and adjust seasoning. Refrigerate until ready to serve.
- Prep the watermelon and vegetables. Cut the watermelon into 1-inch cubes and pat lightly with paper towels to remove excess moisture — this keeps the sauce from getting watery. Slice the cucumber and red onion and set aside.
- Spread the sauce. Spoon the herbed yogurt sauce onto a large serving platter or wide shallow bowl, spreading it in an even layer across the base.
- Assemble the salad. Arrange the watermelon cubes, cucumber slices, and red onion over the yogurt sauce. Scatter the crumbled feta, torn mint leaves, and fresh dill across the top.
- Finish and serve. Drizzle lightly with extra-virgin olive oil and finish with a pinch of flaky sea salt and cracked black pepper. Serve immediately, or hold refrigerated for up to 1 hour before serving (sauce and fruit can be prepped separately up to 4 hours ahead).
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 105 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 150mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 15 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.