Shellfish

This sumptuous appetizer stars oysters in an elegant and creamy guise. The oyster mixture spills over the sides of a thick triangle of toasted, buttered bread, and the whole thing is topped off with smoky bacon and snipped chives. The flavors of this dish are great with champagne and have a holiday feel, but it’s delicious anytime you can get great oysters. You could also toss the warm sauté with bow tie pasta for a decidedly rich Sunday supper.

If you’re not from Crescent City, this dish might seem like an unlikely trio of ingredients, but it’s my twist on a much-loved Louisiana combination. In New Orleans, we tend to serve oysters with just about anything—especially if there is beer and hot sauce involved. When I’m traveling, or asked to bring New Orleans-style food to other parts of the world, tasso is one of the things I smuggle. Tasso is another Cajun staple—cured, smoked pork (usually the shoulder), seasoned with red pepper, garlic, and various spices and herbs. Tasso is typically vacuum-packed, so it doesn’t spoil easily. Since the flavor is intense, it’s used more as a seasoning. In other words, 3 pounds of tasso provide the same mileage as 10 pounds of andouille—which I’m not willing to schlep. (So far I’ve managed to infiltrate France, Thailand, and England with tasso discreetly nestled in my luggage—and the authorities were none the wiser.) I’m an eggplant freak, and I can eat it any way, anytime. I have yet to find an eggplant dish that I don’t like—unless it’s one that’s undercooked. Eggplant is a great flavor carrier that stands up well to other ingredients. But you can also make this recipe by substituting sautéed spinach or fennel for the eggplant. A gratin is a nifty appetizer because it can be assembled in advance and requires very little last-minute prep.

You can’t come to the French Quarter without being seduced by a rich, bubbling crabmeat gratin. This is my take on the traditional New Orleans dish—it’s luxurious and surprisingly simple to prepare. For the most elegant presentation, serve this in individual gratin dishes as a lunch or a first course for a special meal. This gratin gets added flavor and crunch from the topping, a Spicer staple.

This recipe is based on the much-loved Spanish dish called Gambas al Ajillo, or shrimp with garlic. The basil is not a traditional ingredient, but I like how its fresh flavor pairs with the sweet, garlicky shrimp. Smoked Spanish paprika, or pimentón, has a unique flavor and is well worth tracking down. You can find it at most specialty food stores, or in Latin markets. It’s typically much cheaper at the latter.

Who would have thought you could improve upon a good old-fashioned New Orleans shrimp boil? A former Bayona sous chef, Ashley Hykes, showed me it was possible. Serve these shrimp bathing in their colorful marinade in a pretty bowl, along with other appetizers, for a party, or serve them for lunch with deviled eggs, a big green salad, and some bread or croutons for soaking up the pleasingly tart juice perfumed with citrus and vinegar.

No self-respecting resident of Louisiana will need this recipe! Everyone in this state has his or her own method (complete with secret ingredients—I know one guy who uses Tang, the powdered orange drink) for boiling shrimp, crab, and crayfish. For outsiders, here’s a brief rundown of the basics. Start with the freshest, sweetest shrimp available. I love to add spicy sausage and potatoes to the pot, but by all means, omit or add what you like (even Tang). The peeling process may throw some people off, but that’s part of the fun. This recipe calls for 2 pounds of shrimp, so you can get a feel for it before you move up to the more common 20-pound party batch. If you can get your hands on some crabs or crayfish, you will need to go a bit stronger on the seasoning and the cooking time, as those hard shells need more spice and more time to absorb the other flavors.

With fresh ginger, garlic, and lime, this Thai-style soup imparts lovely fragrance and warmth on a cool autumn evening. Adjust the amount of red pepper flakes depending on how spicy you want the soup to be.

Elegant enough for a dinner party but simple enough to prepare any night of the week, this pasta dish makes good use of quick-cooking shrimp and two types of tomatoes.

Filled with Caribbean flavors, this dinner is made to be enjoyed outdoors. You will need twelve metal or wooden skewers. To keep them from scorching on the grill, soak wooden skewers in water while preparing the ingredients.

Gazpacho is traditionally made by adding olive oil to vegetable purée; in this light version, we left out the oil and used only a small amount to cook the shrimp.

The combination of anchovy paste and soy sauce is a good substitution for Asian fish sauce, which is used to flavor many Thai dishes. If you have fish sauce on hand, use 2 tablespoons and omit the anchovy paste and soy sauce.

You can purchase bottled Thai green curry sauce in most supermarkets, but this recipe proves how quick and easy it is to make your own. Refrigerate any leftover sauce, covered, for up to 3 days.

This recipe is my re-creation of a dish prepared by Le Thang, the chef and owner of the now-defunct Dong Ba restaurant in Little Saigon in Westminster, California. The modest eatery, named after the famous outdoor market in Hue, showcased the rustic dishes of central Vietnam, and although the mì Quang noodle soup and bánh bèo chén (rice pancakes steamed in small bowls) were superb, the minced pork was my favorite. Conceptually, this dish is similar to the recipe for Caramelized Minced Pork (page 131), but it takes on a distinctive central Vietnamese character from the bold use of lemongrass, chile, garlic, and shrimp sauce. Indeed, the generous amount of lemongrass acts as more of a main ingredient than a seasoning, while the chopped shrimp, roasted peanuts, and toasted sesame seeds add layers of flavor and texture. The result is salty, sweet, spicy, rich, and dangerously addictive. Enjoy this dish with plenty of rice, adding some cucumber to each bite for a cool and crunchy contrast.

Cha gio, which originated in Saigon are among Vietnam’s national dishes. They are often misleadingly translated as spring rolls, because they seem like a riff on the Chinese spring roll, or as imperial rolls, a translation of pâté imperial, their French moniker. But these rolls are not reserved for royalty, nor are they exclusively eaten during the Spring Festival (Chinese New Year). And their filling, wrapper, and accompaniments are uniquely Vietnamese. Out of culinary pride, I encourage people to call these rolls cha gio, their southern Viet name. The rolls are made in varying sizes. Cooks with great manual dexterity create thumb-sized rolls. Lacking such skill and patience, I make stubby cigar-sized ones and cut them up before serving. Larger ones also involve less labor when frying up enough for a special lunch or dinner. Some Vietnamese American cooks use Filipino lumpia or Chinese spring roll wrappers, which are made of wheat flour and fry up crisp, but an authentic flavor is lost. For the best results, use rice paper made of all rice flour or of rice and tapioca flours.

Eating this crab is somewhat akin to eating a pile of barbecued ribs. Coated with a garlicky-sweet-spicy sauce, the crab requires a little work to get at all the delicious bits (and perhaps a cold beer to wash things down), but your effort pays off. Vietnamese cooks traditionally cut up live crabs before stir-frying them. That is a run-of-the-mill task for fearless types like my mom. Most cooks, however, wince at the thought of chopping up a live crustacean, especially one with large claws. To avoid getting pinched, I briefly boil the crab, which also sets the meat and tomalley, making the crab easy to take apart. Since freshness is crucial, use whatever kind of live crab is available in your area, the feistier the better for optimal flavor. Asian markets are typically reliable sources. In Northern California, I’m blessed with the large Dungeness crab. Outfit the table with metal nutcrackers, communal bowls for holding shells, and a finger bowl for each person.

This Vietnamese version of Chinese salt-and-pepper shrimp is bursting with bold flavors, and the high-heat searing seals in the juices. Use shrimp in their shells for the extra crunch and smokiness they develop during searing. Ideally their heads will be intact, too, as the juices trapped in the heads add to the richness of the finished dish. Purchase white shrimp with edible thin shells for this recipe; they are usually available at Asian and Latin markets.

Shrimp can be paired with strong flavors—in this case, a tangy and sweet tamarind sauce with a touch of heat—and still retain their briny character. The tartness of the tropical pod comes through in the sauce, but it is balanced by the other seasonings, just as it is in a well-prepared Indian tamarind chutney. These shrimp are at home with a bowl of rice for soaking up the sauce, but they also make an interesting cross-cultural hand roll tucked into a warm corn tortilla and eaten like a taco. As long as you have frozen cubes of tamarind liquid on hand, this recipe is quick to prepare.

A great way to cook shrimp is to grill them whole, with heads and shells intact. The unpeeled shrimp cook in their own juices, staying moist, and the shells pick up a little char, releasing a sweet, toasty aroma. Since I also like grilled squid, I often serve a mixed grill of squid and shrimp. Squid with tubes only about five inches long are especially tender. The best shrimp to grill are big white ones that have edible thin shells. To find them, head to an Asian market, where you will also find the squid. Before cooking the shrimp, follow Vietnamese tradition and neatly trim them. Then, cut the squid to create fringe that will curl back during grilling, to resemble trumpet flowers. I recommend cleaning the squid yourself because the flavor is superior to that of precleaned squid. To create a full menu, add one of the canh soups (pages 58 to 66) and some grilled summer squash (see the Note that accompanies Grilled Chicken on page 81).

For everyday meals, Viet cooks often prepare kho, simple dishes simmered in a bittersweet caramel-based sauce. Similar to the Chinese braising technique called red cooking, Vietnamese kho cooking transforms ingredients into richly colored and flavored foods. Economical to prepare but lavish tasting, these dishes also keep well for days, a plus in the old days of no refrigeration. If you are new to seafood kho dishes, start with this one. You will experience shrimp in a totally new way. Nowadays it seems a mistake to overcook seafood, but here you purposely do it to allow the flavors to penetrate thoroughly. The shrimp cook vigorously, releasing juices that combine with the other seasonings to create a dark, tasty sauce. The onion nearly disintegrates, and the final addition of oil lends a rich note. Traditional cooks use extra lard or oil to give the shrimp, which are still in the shell, an appetizing sheen, but I use peeled shrimp because they are easier to chew.

Named for the ssssseh-ao sound that the batter makes when it hits the hot skillet, these turmeric yellow rice crepes are irresistible. Fragrant with a touch of coconut milk, they are filled with pork, shrimp, and vegetables and eaten with lettuce, herbs, and a mildly garlicky dipping sauce. Most Viet cooks make sizzling crepes with a rice flour batter, but the results fall short of the nearly translucent ones made by pros in Vietnam. To reproduce the traditional version, which captures the alluring toastiness of rice, I soak and grind raw rice for the batter. It is not as daunting as it sounds. You just need a powerful blender to emulsify the batter to a wonderful silkiness. Adding left over cooked rice and mung bean, a technique I found buried in a book on Viet foodways, gives the crepes a wonderful chewy crispiness. Make your crepes as large as you like. These instructions are for moderately sized eight-inch ones. In Saigon, the same crepes are typically as big as twelve inches, but in the central region, they are as small as tacos. At my house, we serve and eat these crepes as fast as we can make them.