Three Things
Some very special guest stars, the case for the Mai Tai, a one-dish dinner for summer nights, and more!
Greetings eaters and readers! I very much wish I could write today’s newsletter, but unfortunately I have been trapped in the corner of my dining room behind a wall of dishes and bowls and jars and cutting boards and forks — so many forks! — and I cannot seem to escape. YES FRIENDS, the photo shoot for my Weekday Vegetarians follow-up, helmed by Christine Han, is five days underway and I couldn’t be more pleased with our progress. I’m working on a big behind-the-scenes write-up of the whole thing for subscribers (coming Friday), but in the meantime, because I would never actually leave you hanging, I enlisted three of my favorite Substack writers to pitch in on today’s Three Things: Andrea Nguyen, who writes the highly useful, highly tasty Pass the Fish Sauce and is the author several cookbooks including, most recently Ever-Green Vietnamese; Michael Ruhlman, legendary food writer, and the man behind Ruhlman’s Newsletter (when he talks TV, movie, and book recs, I listen!) and author of the brand new and extremely informative The Book of Cocktail Ratios; and Yolanda Edwards, my longtime pal, woman of the world, and visionary who writes the travel and living-the-good-life newsletter Yolo Intel. Take it away, friends!
1. A Bún Rice Noodle Salad Blueprint, by Andrea Nguyen
To deal with midweek what-to-make-for-dinner doldrums, might I suggest Vietnamese bún noodle salads? Chicken, beef, seafood, tofu — whether grilled, fried, or stir-fried -- can star as the "main feature" in this one-dish dinner. For bún (“boon”), the round rice noodles that define the dish, look in the Asian section of the supermarket or dried noodle aisle at Asian markets. (Scan for packages labeled rice vermicelli/sticks or maifun. Or, substitute brown rice capellini from the pasta aisle.) Along with the bun, gather basic salad fixings (lettuce, herbs, etc) and make nước chấm dipping sauce for the dressing. Here’s the how-to…
Three Steps to Bún Salad Happiness
1. Make your main feature or reheat it. To ensure it doesn’t wilt the lettuce and herbs, whatever you choose (chicken, fish, beef, tofu) should be warm (not piping hot) or near room temperature.
2. Prepare the must-haves to lay the salad foundation. Make 1 cup of nước chấm, adding garlic and chile for pungency and heat. Prepare 4 to 6 cups baby lettuce mix or thinly sliced lettuce leaves (such as butter, Boston, or green). Coarsely chop or hand tear 1/2 to 1 cup of mixed herbs (any combo of cilantro, mint, basil). For extra veggies, wash a few handfuls of bean sprouts, shave a big Persian cucumber, or make Viet daikon and carrot pickle.
In a 4 to 5-quart pot of unsalted water, boil the noodles until tender-firm (cooking time depends on the noodle and brand, so test to verify doneness). Drain the noodles in a colander, dump them back into the pot, and add cold water to cover. Swish for 30 to 60 seconds to quickly cool and release their starch, then re-drain. Set aside to cool to room temperature (they’ll naturally get sticky). Divide the lettuce, herbs, and any extra veggies among four rimmed dinner plates or large noodle soup or pasta bowls. Divide the noodles among the salads; if they’re super-sticky, very briefly rinse them under water to loosen, shake the colander to drain well, and then portion them.
3. Crown your creation. Add the main feature. As a bonus, top with chopped nuts (peanuts or cashews) and/or fried shallot or onions. Present the salad and invite diners to drizzle and dress with the sauce. Dive in with a fork and spoon or chopsticks and spoon.
2. My Favorite Water Shoes for Travel, by Yolanda Edwards
During the summer, we tend to go to more rocky beaches just to avoid the crowded sandy beaches. But I've always resisted bringing along a pair of the traditional water sock kind of shoe (to save my tender feet), since when we're traveling, it seems silly to pack something that has only one use. So I convince myself that I can handle the rocks, and inevitably, on the second to last day of each trip I end up caving and buying a pair, and then gifting them to someone at the hotel we're staying at. This year I discovered (or actually, rediscovered--because I'm sure I wore these when I was a kid!) the jelly sandal. I'd been trying to find a cool water shoe to bring on these trips, and finally found a solution--the French fisherman recycled hemp jelly sandal — which I wrote about here. Both my husband and I bought them for a recent trip, and we wore them into the sea then right into a restaurant for lunch.
But then on a recent trip to Athens I discovered something that is really great if you want to trim down your packing-- this jelly sandal from Ancient Greek, which is made out of recycled PVC--it will work literally for everything. I bought them in black, and honestly, they look so much like leather, that they work as a sandal for going out in the evening. I basically wear them all day long.
3. The Case for the Mai Tai, by Michael Ruhlman
Few people know that the Mai Tai is one of the best cocktails in the entire cocktail canon and also one of the easiest to make. Hear me out! The Mai Tai is superior to The Margarita, The Gimlet, The Whiskey Sour, and The Negroni (four of my top 7 faves). It is bested, in my opinion, only by the steely, reliable Martini (6:1 gin-vermouth—stirred, up, twist) and the structurally perfect (Golden Mean perfect) Manhattan. Our reigning cocktail historian, David Wondrich, agrees that The Mai Tai is among the best—adding, “if it’s made right, which it rarely is.”
Also, I feel it’s important to note that I’m writing this from the Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Waikiki beach in Honolulu, the place that popularized the drink in the 1950s — it was invented in the 1940s in Oakland by Victor Bergeron, Trader Vic, when he’d purchased a shipment of outstanding Jamaican rum.
You do not need a variety of rums, nor any admixture of fruit juices. (Pineapple juice began to debase the cocktail here in Hawaii in the 1960s.) What you need for a great Mai Tai is a good pot-stilled rum (Smith & Cross is excellent, and widely available), a good orange liqueur (Ferrand Dry Curaçao), lime juice, a drop of simple syrup and orgeat (almond syrup). That’s it, a rum sour. Scarcely different from a daiquiri (rum, lime, simple syrup).
My first Mai Tai here on Waikiki Beach was an abomination of fruit juices. I asked for their classic 1940's version. It was worse. I could taste the powdered sour mix. This is exactly what gives the Mai Tai a bad name. Happily, the lovely restaurant House Without a Key made it properly for me last night and, with the live Hawaiian music, it was the flavor of ease and relaxation, beaches and a crescent moon viewed through palm leaves.
The Mai Tai
From Michael’s The Book of Cocktail Ratios: The Surprising Simplicity of Classic Cocktails
Traditionally, Mai Tais are shaken with crushed ice and poured from the shaker into the glass. This is too much dilution for my taste. I prefer to make it using the standard shaking method and strain it over ice cubes. Mint is the traditional garnish and is lovely but optional.
2 ounces aged Jamaican pot-stilled rum
1/2 ounce dry curaçao
1 ounce lime juice (1 juiced lime, half reserved for garnish)
1/2 ounce orgeat (store bought or homemade, see recipe below)
1/4 ounce (1 1/2 teaspoons) simple syrup or 1 teaspoon sugar
Sprigs of mint (optional)
Combine the rum, curaçao, lime juice, orgeat, and simple syrup in a shaker, add ice, and shake to chill. Pour into an old-fashioned glass over ice. Garnish with the shell of a juiced lime half and the mint, if using.
Orgeat is widely available and inexpensive, but homemade is better. Here is a recipe should you wish to make your own: Combine 1/3 cup unsweetened almond milk and 1/3 cup sugar in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Stir until the sugar is dissolved. Remove the pan from the heat. Stir in 1/3 teaspoon almond extract. Store in a covered container in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.
See you next time,
Jenny
P.S. Thank you for all the wonderful book recommendations and moving advice in last week’s newsletter. The comments were way better than the actual newsletter, which is always my favorite thing ever.
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You are so right! House without a Key is definitely in the Mai Tai Hall of Fame. No fruit juice in the Mai Tai. Can’t believe how many criminally bad Mai Tai’s are out there.