hot hot heat

Oy, is it hot here in New York. Being in the middle of a concrete jungle, with heat radiating off the asphalt and trapped by the towering buildings, does us no favors, either. In this oppressive humidity and sweltering heat, I’m barely hungry, let alone want to turn on the stove. I’m loath to admit, but recent meals have included: chips and salsa (from a jar!), and a pile of almonds, eaten at the kitchen counter; a bowlful of pluots (apriums?), cheese cubes, and a handful of rice crackers; guacamole and black beans, wrapped in a tortilla, times two; yogurt from the container, a bowl of blueberries, and two slices of raisin bread. Gross, I know. I’m sorry.

For the Fourth of July, I headed over to my friends Maggie and Erin’s apartment, and being a holiday, had a proper meal. It was a low-key celebration, and being contrarian and possibly unAmerican (shh!), we did. not. grill. Maggie and I decided, instead, that it would be good occasion for me to teach them how to make summer rolls.

Maggie had first tasted my version when I made them for a dinner party about a year ago, and had been trying to organize my sharing them with Erin ever since. You see, Erin is our token Celiac, and these are not only Erin-friendly (read: gluten-free) but also delicious. Apparently, it’s a delicate balance. Best yet for our fifth-floor walk up tenement apartment celebration locale, the only real cooking required is heating water.

In my family (and I think with many Asian families), these are prepared at the table. The hosting mom-du-jour does all the prep work (the bulk of this recipe is in julienning vegetables), then crams the dining table with bowls and platters of individual ingredients and large bowls of hot water. Dinner is then a free for all, with people passing ingredients around the table, standing and reaching across the table, and methodically (or not) stuffing and rolling rolls. It’s a great, big, messy affair. If you’re less into chaos, these are easily prepared a bit in advance, so you can lay them out nicely on a platter — but I kind of like the noisy, communal way.

Vietnamese summer rolls
This is a very versatile recipe, which you can adapt easily to your likes and dislikes, both in the ingredients you use and the proportions within each roll. You could easily add different herbs or peppers (sweet or spicy), shitake or enoki mushrooms, and meat. I’m a vegetarian, but if you eat meat, shrimp and pork would be most traditional, but I’m not a stickler about it.
As when making pancakes, the first roll is always a bit of a disaster, but don’t worry. Rolling technique just takes a bit of experimenting to get the right proportion of filling to wrapper (too much? too little?), but the wrappers are surprisingly sturdy and forgiving.
- 3 oz. bean thread noodles/vermicelli
- 12 round rice paper wrappers
- 1 medium cucumber, peeled, seeded, and julienned
- 1 small carrot, peeled and julienned
- 4 leaves Romaine or Boston lettuce, torn or cut into fat ribbons
- 1/2 cup mung bean sprouts
- 1 cup baked or fried tofu, julienned
- 1/2 cup Thai basil, leaves only, washed and dried well
- 1/2 cup fresh mint, leaves only, washed and dried well
- 1/2 cup cilantro, leaves only, washed and dried well
- 1/4 cup peanuts, roughly chopped
Place bean thread noodles in a large bowl. Cover with boiling water and set aside 10 minutes or until noodles are al dente/tender. Drain and set aside. If necessary, toss with a little bit of flavorless oil to keep from clumping.
Fill a wide, shallow dish large enough to hold the rice paper wrappers with hot water. Evenly submerge one wrapper for about 30 seconds, or until it is soft and pliable. Remove from the water and place on the work surface, such as a large cutting board or platter.
Working quickly, lay bean thread noodles, vegetables, tofu, and herbs (to your taste) in a small, rectangular pile in the center of your rice paper wrapper.
Fold two short ends of the rice paper wrapper over the filling. Holding firmly in place, fold the sides of the wrapper in, and roll to close.
Serve with hoisin/plum sauce (if you’re my aunt), fish sauce (if you’re Vietnamese), or peanut sauce (if you’re me).
Serves 3-4 as an entrée
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Peanut sauce
This is a rough guide, as I don’t tend to use a recipe, but rather taste, adjust, and mix until I’m satisfied. I add the hoisin in this version for summer rolls, a nod at the traditional sauce, but without, this makes a great dressing for cold noodles.
- 1/2 cup all natural, chunky peanut butter
- 1 Tablespoon honey
- 2 Tablespoons hoisin/plum sauce
- 1 Tablespoon soy sauce
- 1 small garlic clove, mashed to a paste
- 1 teaspoon Siracha
- 1 Tablespoon toasted sesame oil
- 3 Tablespoons rice wine vinegar
- 1/4 cup water
In a medium bowl, combine peanut butter, honey, hoisin, soy sauce, garlic, Siracha, and sesame oil. Stir with a spoon or small, rubber spatula until thoroughly mixed. Add rice wine vinegar and water and stir in slowly until thoroughly incorporated. Add water to thin to desired consistency, as needed.
Makes about 1 1/4 cups.
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