Make Ahead

Philadelphia-style ice cream is made with no eggs, so it can be mixed together in a New York minute. It gets it name because at one time there was a proliferation of dairy farms around Philadelphia. I’ve made this vanilla ice cream successfully with all heavy cream as well as with a mixture of cream and milk, and I like it both ways.

Take a page from Korean cooks who gently simmer lean beef with lots of scallions, onion, and garlic for a light, flavorful stock. The black peppercorns impart a golden hue as well as a spicy undercurrent. I prefer shank because there’s a little marrow bone for flavor, the gelatinous meat imparts richness, and the left overs can be used for an old-fashioned Chinese treat (see Note below). You can opt for oxtail, rump, brisket, or other stewing meat but know that a little bone, meat, and fat together make for good stock flavor.

Garlicky and savory-sweet, this roasted pork is a mainstay of Cantonese barbecue shops and dim sum houses.

This is my standard, multipurpose Asian chicken stock. Good-quality chickens are a premium ingredient, so make the most of your investment. Save and freeze chicken parts as you prepare other dishes. Every once in a while, especially when the freezer gets full, brew some stock. It freezes beautifully. And in a pinch, make the shortcut version from canned broth (see the Variation, below).

Making your own garam masala spice blend for Indian foods is easy and inexpensive, and the results will be superior to store-bought. Toasting and grinding the spices in small batches ensures freshness. The blend varies among cooks, and there is the subtle traditional blend of cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and black pepper. I prefer a slightly bolder approach that includes cumin and coriander, too. Whole spices are available at reasonable prices from Asian markets and the bulk section of many health food stores.

This tart-sweet relish is thick enough for you to plop some into the crevices of a samosa for a wonderful, classic Indian food taste treat. Tamarind is known as the “date of India,” and the delectable marriage of the two kinds of dates in this chutney is a natural. Both ingredients lend body, their flavors perfectly complementing each other. I’ve eaten this chutney off a spoon. If available, use jaggery (unrefined Indian sugar) or Southeast Asian palm sugar instead of the brown sugar. Sticky dark brown slabs of tamarind pulp are sold at Chinese, Indian, and Southeast Asian markets in a double layer of plastic packaging. Soft dates, such as Medjools, work best. Otherwise, soak chewy, hard dates in just-boiled water for about an hour to soften them, then drain and proceed.

While this relish boldly says, “I am mint!,” it also has a bite from chile, ginger, and raw onion. Lime juice and sugar tame and unite the ingredients. This, along with the Tamarind and Date Chutney (page 220), provides just the right bright accents to Indian Samosas (page 115).

Vietnamese cooks, particularly those from the southern region, love to add creamy richness to their sweets by drizzling on a little of this sauce (called nuoc cot dua ngot) right before serving. I don’t limit my uses to Viet preparations; this simple sauce can grace many Southeast Asian foods. Somewhat thick like yogurt, the sauce can be prepared days in advance for you to use cold, warm, or at room temperature.

A simple, everyday relish from India, this condiment adds a wallop of fresh spiciness to food. Each cook has a different take on green chutney, and many add chopped onion and grated coconut. The straightforward approach here keeps the flavors bright. Green chutney is purposely hot, but feel free to seed the chiles or use a less-alarming chile, such as jalapeño, for less dramatic results.

Sweet, salty, and rich, this delicately flavored condiment unites and enhances the flavors of Cantonese steamed rice rolls (pages 156 to 160). It comes together quickly and tastes great, especially if flavorful cold-pressed peanut oil, the kind sold at Chinese markets, is used. If you use canola oil, add a dash of sesame oil for nuttiness.

Used in Chinese, Japanese, and Southeast Asian cooking, chile oil is easy to prepare at home, and it’s infinitely better than store-bought. Its intense heat enlivens many foods, especially dumplings, which benefit when chile oil is part of the dipping sauce or used as a garnish. Some cooks add aromatics, such as ginger, star anise, and Sichuan peppercorns, to the oil, but I like to keep the chile flavor pure. While you may use other cooking oils, such as canola oil, my preference is for the kind of peanut oil often sold at Chinese markets, which is cold pressed and filled with the aroma of roasted peanuts. It is texturally light, has a high smoking point, and offers a wonderful nuttiness that pairs well with the intense chile heat. Lion & Globe peanut oil from Hong Kong is terrific. Use just the infused oil or include the chile flakes for an extra brow-wiping experience.

This ubiquitous Asian condiment does not need to be purchased. In fact, it has a wonderful, bright flavor when made at home. In the late summer, when chiles are at their peak red color and spicy-fruity flavor, I buy a bunch at the farmers’ market and make a batch or two of this sauce. Keep the sauce uncooked if you enjoy a wild, robust flavor. Or, cook the sauce for a more mellow finish. I often blend different kinds of chiles so as to not create too much of a burn.

If you enjoy rice pudding, you’ll love these Thai packets of soft sticky rice flavored by coconut cream. Steaming in banana leaves lends an alluring fragrance to the rich rice, which encases soft banana and cooked black beans. The beans offer interesting texture and color contrast in these popular street snacks. According to legend, kao tom padt (also called kao tom madt) was all that some religious pilgrims had on their journey to visit the Lord Buddha. They presented their precious food to the Lord Buddha upon arriving, and that gesture continues today as these packets are still an offering at religious ceremonies. Thai cooks typically make these packets in large quantities and thus soak and boil a fair amount of black beans. For small homemade batches, canned black beans, drained and rinsed of their canning liquid, work fine. Omit the beans for nom n’sahm chaek, a Cambodian New Year must-have. You can also grill the steamed packets and serve them with the Coconut Dessert Sauce (page 221).

Great on their own, Chinese jiaozi get a fantastic flavor boost when dipped in a zippy sauce like this one. The tart-salty-spicy combination adds a complex edge to the dumplings. There’s no such thing as a definitive dipping sauce, since cooks and diners mix up their own according to personal taste. At the least, your sauce should be tangy and savory. But add some nutty, hot chile oil, and your eating experience will enter a different orbit. Chinese dumplings are wonderful with an extra kick of ginger or garlic in the sauce, too. I prepare the sauce in advance, but you can set out the ingredients and invite guests to do it themselves.

Mung beans are a staple legume in many Asian kitchens, where their delicate, buttery flavor lends richness to both savory and sweet treats. Like red beans, mung beans can be made into a lightly sweet paste to be stuffed inside a baked or steamed bun or dumpling. In fact, the two bean pastes are practically interchangeable. Whereas sweetened red bean paste is vaguely chocolate-like, sweetened mung bean paste resembles marzipan, both in texture and nuanced flavor. This is a Vietnamese version of the paste, with vanilla to round out the flavor and salt to inject a little oomph. Mung beans are sold at many Asian markets and health food stores. Look for the yellow ones that have been hulled and split. The green ones still have their tough skins.

To those unfamiliar with red bean paste, the concept may seem strange, but millions of people the world over cannot imagine their favorite steamed or baked buns and deep-fried sesame seed balls without this lightly sweet, chocolate-brown filling. The richness comes from the beans themselves and from a touch of oil, though lard would be used by traditionalists. Some cooks use brown or white sugar; I use both for a deep, well-rounded sweetness. Red bean paste is sold canned, but it’s overly sweet and incomparable to homemade. Adzuki beans are available at most natural food stores, specialty grocers, and Asian markets. You can also use the small red beans sold at Chinese markets. Sometimes I add a pinch or two of salt for a savory edge, reflecting a Japanese style of bean paste. The recipe here is more in the sweeter Chinese fashion.

Cakey, spongy, and deliriously delicious gulab jamun is one of India’s great contributions to the world of sweets. Shaped as small spheres that are fried and then soaked in a fragrant sugar syrup, the rich brown dumplings are frequently on restaurant menus and are enjoyed during special occasions such as Diwali, the autumn festival of lights, which is also known as the festival of sweets. The dumplings, traditionally made from khoya (milk that has been cooked down), are named for their resemblance to juicy, purple-brown jamun fruit. Cardamom is typically part of the sugar syrup, but you can add saffron and/or rose flower water, too; gulab means “rose” in Hindi. Cooking down milk is labor intensive, and many modern Indian cooks instead use nonfat dry milk to great success. The whipping cream lends richness and enhances the milk sugars, which you can smell while making the dough and frying the dumplings. For the rose flower water, I use rose-scented distilled water from France, which is sold in small blue bottles and often found at well-stocked liquor stores. If you are using rose essence, use just a few drops; it is very strong.

Soft and somewhat elastic on the outside, this Malaysian morsel contains a spritely filling of dried shrimp, shallot, ginger, lemongrass, chile, and grated coconut. After I tasted my first one in Kuala Lumpur, I quickly learned to say “choo-choo ba-dah” like a local so that I could buy them from street vendors whenever possible. Use the yellow-fleshed sweet potatoes with pale skin because this variety has a lower moisture content and will yield manageable dough that is not too sticky. For the dough, I have provided a range so that you can make dainty or moderate-size dumplings. To determine the amount of flour, use the original weight of the sweet potato. If it weighs 3/4 pound, use 3/4 cup (3 3/4 ounces) of flour. A 1-pound potato requires 1 cup (5 ounces) of flour. Whole unpeeled shrimp traditionally crown the dumpling, but modern versions sold by vendors often lack them. If you opt for the charming old-fashioned topping, purchase shell-on white shrimp (not tiger shrimp) which have edible, thin shells; they are sold at Asian markets.

Whereas fried sticky rice dumplings have their alluring crispy-chewy skins, steamed sticky rice dumplings are as soft and comforting as a well-worn pair of jeans. They retain the charming soft texture and natural sweetness of sticky rice. I grew up break-fasting on Vietnamese bánh ít (“small dumplings”), though they can certainly be a satisfying brunch, lunch, or snack food. Filled with a surf-and-turf mixture of shrimp, pork, and wood ear and shiitake mushrooms, these dumplings are enjoyed warm, dipped in a pool of soy sauce and pepper. The banana leaf imparts a wonderfully tea-like quality to the dumplings during the cooking process. These are easy to make, especially when the filling is prepared a day in advance. Viet cooks often use boiling water to create glutinous rice dough, but the dough is easier to handle and control when cold water is used. I combine two kinds of glutinous rice flour (see page 15) to arrive at a texture that is pleasantly chewy, not overly sticky. The rice flours are available at Asian markets, as is fresh or frozen banana leaf.

Opening up a steamed lotus leaf packet and inhaling its alluring musty fragrance is part of many Cantonese dim sum rituals. Inside, the sticky rice is stained a rich brown from the leaf, and once you start digging toward the center with chopsticks, there is a treasure trove of succulent ingredients. Figuring out what comprises the filling is most fun. Chicken is often included, as jī (fowl) is part of these packets’ name in Mandarin; they are called lo mai gai in Cantonese. Chicken is commonly combined with shiitake mushrooms and Chinese sweet sausage, as is done here. But cooks can add a myriad of other boldly flavored or rich ingredients, such as roasted char siu pork (page 224), roast duck, dried shrimp, salted egg yolk, and chestnuts. Lotus leaf packets can be made large enough for several people to share, but I prefer to present a small one to each guest. I freeze extras as a homemade convenience food to be later revived and packed into a lunch box or enjoyed on the road. At Chinese and Southeast Asian markets, you will find the sticky rice and dried sweet sausages. Packages of fanlike dried lotus leaves are usually near the dried mushrooms; they are inexpensive and last indefinitely if stored in a dry spot. If you are making lotus packets for the first time, soak a couple of extra leaves in case you tear them.