Wrap

Barbecue has lots of definitions, but what it really means to us is lots of leftover piles of meat for new and different dishes. Barbecue dishes can be as versatile as you want them to be—they don’t have to include slaw and beans. Pulled pork that’s been lightly seasoned and smoked can go in any direction. R. B. is adamant about crisping the cooked meat in a hot skillet first. The meat takes on a new texture that’s great for sandwiches, tacos, and brunch hash. Here, soft tacos made with any cheater meat take on Asian flavors with a simple sweet-hot peanut BBQ sauce and some fresh fixings.

Min fell for tortilla-wrapped dogs outside of Austin, Texas, years ago after a meal of wrapped barbecued sausages. The Texas hill country is a barbecue melting pot, thanks to the influences of German settlers and our Mexican neighbors. Since then, Min has pretty much sworn off hot dog buns. With a chronically overcrowded kitchen and a jammed freezer, a pack of tortillas stays out of the way, doesn’t get mashed up, and offers a lot more options. The kids don’t miss the buns one bit either.

Here is a kinder, gentler version of gyros, the Greek meat-on-a-pita classic. Seitan makes a superb stand-in, and the shortcut creamy cucumber dressing gives the entire enterprise a refreshing zip. For heartier appetites, a serving would be two gyros; one is filling enough for moderate appetites or when other dishes will be served.

In our home, we have lots of food rituals. This one we just call “Saturday Morning Burritos,” and they are a relaxing reward for my younger son, Evan, after a busy week. Though excellent as a weekend breakfast or brunch, these are also a nice option for a quick lunch or dinner. The products I like to use for these are Nasoya firm tofu, Rudi’s organic white spelt tortillas, Vegan Gourmet nacho cheese, and Muir Glen organic salsa (medium, usually cilantro-garlic). Even though Evan has had these burritos every Saturday for at least three years, he considers this meal a great gift each time I make it.

WHY IT’S LIGHT Just three-quarters of a pound of beef serves four as a main course when rolled around a filling of peppers and cheese and accompanied by a leafy salad. This dish is just as delicious (and even leaner) with chicken or turkey cutlets instead of beef.

SMART SUBSTITUTION Next time you make a sandwich wrap, reach for lettuce leaves instead of a flatbread or tortilla. This recipe is based on a popular Korean dish (ssam bap) that has a spicy filling of beef and fresh herbs encased in lettuce. Cellophane noodles, tossed with a bit of oil and scallions, round out the meal.

This is the best burrito you will ever taste in your entire life, and that’s no exaggeration. To “confit” is to preserve the duck meat by first curing it in salt, then cooking and storing it in its own fat. This is one of those things that I eat only on occasion, for obvious reasons, but look forward to tremendously. Take into consideration that the duck must be prepared a day ahead—but believe me, it’s worth the extra effort. (You could also buy duck confit already made to cut the prep time way down.) I must confess to you that, on occasion, I’ve used lard from a local butcher when I don’t have enough duck fat (which I buy at Whole Foods), with the response from my uninformed family usually being, “Marcela, the duck tastes different today. It tastes . . . better.”

For years, I thought the in-table-grill was such an important part of cooking bul kalbi that I never even tried to make it at home. I realized, however, that the time the meat spends over the coals—certainly less than five minutes—might be long enough to add the mental image of wood flavor, but certainly not the reality. So, with what might be described as typical American arrogance, I set about reinventing this traditional Korean dish, and I’m happy with the results. Grilling remains the best cooking technique—a couple of minutes over a very hot fire is ideal—but a stovetop grill or a very hot skillet works nearly as well, as long as you have a powerful exhaust fan to suck out the smoke. Alternatively, a good broiler will do the trick; just turn the slices once. Finally, if you set an iron skillet or a heavy roasting pan in an oven heated to its maximum, then throw the meat onto that, it will sear the meat and cook it through in a couple of minutes. No matter how you cook the meat, do not sacrifice internal juices for external browning; that is, it’s better to serve lightly browned but moist meat than tough, overcooked meat with a lovely crust.

You could call this chicken salad Thai-style, but whatever you call it—you’ll see larb, larp, laarb, and other variations on menus—this is a quick, delicious, appetite-rousing starter. Teaming it with any of the more substantial Thai dishes in this book and some rice makes for an impressive meal. (If you need information on nam pla, see page 500.) Most laarb served in this country is made from chicken, and certainly that’s good and easy. But laarb is even more delicious made with pork shoulder or beef tenderloin. In any case, this is one place where you should mince the meat together with the garlic by hand; food-processed meat is just a little too mushy here. The process shouldn’t take more than five minutes, though, so don’t be put off.

This well-known Philippine starter combines attributes of many of the wrapped foods of other countries. It’s filled like an egg roll, has an egg wrapper like a crêpe, and is served warm but not fried. All the components, which can be varied according to what you have in your kitchen, are cooked before assembly.

This finger food is popular in the south of China, Southeast Asia, and, of course, many American Chinese restaurants. It’s perfect for parties and super easy to make, especially with store-bought egg roll wrappers. They can be filled an hour or two ahead of time and fried immediately before serving or—though it isn’t ideal—fried an hour or two ahead of time and crisped in a warm oven later.

I learned how to make “summer rolls” in a tiny village in the Mekong Delta. I was not only the only non-Vietnamese at the table; I was also the only male. My pathetic technique was laughable to my co-workers, but I quickly got the hang of it. So will you. Rice paper wrappers, sold in Asian markets, keep forever. Their flexibility is truly amazing, and the simple variation will give you an idea of the different directions in which you can go. This is just a basic outline; these rolls can be filled with infinite variations of vegetables, meat, and even fruit, so don’t worry if you don’t have one or two of the ingredients here. You can cover these with a moist towel or plastic wrap and keep them for about an hour, no longer, before serving.

I first had this appetizer as street food, near a market in Bangkok. The combination of raw ingredients normally used as flavoring agents for cooked dishes was intriguing and refreshing. The betel leaf used to hold everything together gave an additional bite to the dish. Betel leaves are impossible to find here, but the dish remains delicious with spinach leaves or even lettuce. If you’re not familiar with Thai fish sauce (nam pla), see page 500. You put it all together at the table, so it’s kind of fun. Serve this as the start to any meal featuring other food from Southeast Asia.

These egg rolls will have your teenager bragging on your behalf. Shrimp is Shelbi’s favorite, and she always loved egg rolls, so she thought this stuffing combo was a perfect match. You can prep the rolls early, or even the night before, so all you need to do before the guests arrive is drop them in the fryer.

Don’t let your opinion of dolmades, stuffed grape leaves, rest on the ubiquitous canned versions, which are tasty but forgettable. Take the time to make these and you’ll be rewarded with a fragrant house and a satisfying savory snack for a party or simply for having on hand. Unlike most other versions I’ve had, this filling is brightly flavored and packed with aromatic ingredients—I add artichoke hearts, preserved lemon, and golden raisins. Pine nuts give these little guys a pleasing crunch, and I love the briny, herbal flavor that the grape leaves impart while they cook—this is the process that forms the sauce—in the lemony liquid.

Wrapping the stir-fried chicken in lettuce keeps this dish lower in calories and carbohydrates than it would be if served with tortillas. You could omit the lettuce and serve the chicken over rice, if desired.

In my experience, wraps can go either way: sometimes they completely hit the spot, and other times they’re just boring fuel. This one always falls into the former category. Besides the fact that the colors of the food make it pretty (I know that sounds lame, but it’s true), the red pepper and avocado are an awesome combination of flavors and textures. It’s a little time-consuming to roast the pepper, but it’s so delicious that you’ll be glad you did it. Plus, you only need half of the pepper for each wrap, so you can store the other half to make another wrap in a jiff within the next few days.

These are light and healthy, and so packed with flavor that everyone will love them. The sauce has a classic combo of Southeast Asian flavors that go so well together—salty, sweet, sour, and spicy. Just be careful with the chili paste. It’s hot . . . really hot.

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.

These hand rolls are a simple and healthful do-it-yourself meal: you assemble the ingredients and invite guests to do the rest. It is a relaxing experience, with everyone making their own hand rolls, eating, sipping cold beverages, and chatting. In Vietnam, freshwater ca loc (snakehead fish) is often used for this dish, encased in clay and roasted in rice straw, wrapped in banana leaf and grilled over charcoal, or just placed directly on the grill. I prefer the simplicity of the last approach. Trout is the perfect substitute for ca loc, as its sweet flesh stands up well to grilling. The skin crisps wonderfully, too.

These nearly translucent, soft steamed rice crepes are served plain with slices of gio lua (sausage), or they are filled and shaped into small rolls, as they are here. Finished with cilantro, shallots, thit rouc bông (cotton pork), and a little sauce, these rolls were one of my father’s favorite foods to prepare for our family when I was growing up. In Vietnam, making bánh cuon was usually left to professional cooks who had mastered the technique of steaming a thin rice batter on fabric stretched over a pot of boiling water. In the 1970s, Vietnamese expatriates devised an easier method of making the crepes in a nonstick skillet. For the batter, they blended cake flour (very fine, soft Thai rice flour was not readily available then) with tapioca starch and cornstarch. While that approach works fine, I prefer to use Thai rice flour in place of the cake flour because it yields a more delicate result that is closer to the original version. The tapioca starch and cornstarch help the batter set up nicely and contribute to achieving the tender yet chewy texture of the traditional crepes.

Sometimes listed on restaurant menus as fresh spring rolls or summer rolls, salad rolls, along with pho, have come to embody Vietnamese food to many non-Vietnamese. They typically combine the elements of a classic Vietnamese goi (salad) but wrapped in rice paper. Southern Vietnamese cooks usually slip a few aromatic Chinese chives into the mix. The chives, dark green, flat blades with a mild garlic flavor, are sold in Asian markets and are also easily grown from seeds. If they are unavailable, omit them and the rolls will still be tasty. Part of the genius of Vietnamese cooking is in how simple ingredients can be crafted into something that is both flavorful and attractive. These rolls reflect that talent.

Loaded with beef, crunchy texture, and heady sweet flavors, this specialty of southern Vietnam echoes Chinese mu shu pork and Malaysian and Singaporean poh piah. But instead of rolling the filling in a wheat flour–based wrapper, rice paper is used. Bò bía are traditionally made by street vendors in a to-go format that recalls a Mexican burrito. When we lived in Saigon, my sister Ha and her best friend, Loan, were addicted to the rolls. On the way home from school, my parents or our driver would take them by one of the hawkers strategically positioned on a street corner, hot wok at the ready. Hand rolls and money were exchanged through the car window, with the girls giggling as they dove into their favorite snack. Because we don’t have those wonderful street vendors here, our family makes bò bía at home as a prelude to a big meal or the focus of a light lunch. We set things up at the table for everyone to assemble his or her own rolls. Th is do-it-yourself approach is ideal because these rolls, unlike salad rolls (page 32), can be messy and should be eaten as soon as they are made.