I grew up eating Asian food. Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Korean, Vietnamese, you name it, I had it. My mother always claims that she is half Puerto Rican and half Chinese and will drop everything for an extra-large, extra spicy, jumbo fried rice from her favorite take-out restaurant, Mayflower, in Chicago.
I don't often cook Asian dishes, but when I do, I reunite with something that was a persistent part of my childhood. I learned to use chopsticks at the age of 8. One of my little sisters did when she was about 4. I remember crunching on fried thai vermicelli eggrolls, sipping egg drop soup, licking my fingers after finishing sweet and savory glazed chicken wings at Great Seas restaurant down the street. I remember eagerly picking off pieces of chicken satay from the stick, and I remember the day our favorite Thai restaurant closed down after decades of business. I remember the first time I tasted Korean kimchi, just one bright vegetable among numerous tiny bowls of spinach, carrots, and other appetizers as we celebrated my mother's graduation from college. I remember the white, overflowing cartons, the swirls of oil left at the edges of empty plates, the scramble to get the refrigerator in hopes of maybe, just maybe, savoring the last morsels of last night's dinner.
So when I create in the kitchen and I have the privilege of creating Asian dishes, I do it with pride, with anticipation. I break out the chop sticks, dipping bowls, dipping sauces, the serving plates, the wok, the hot pepers, oils, and just sink into nostalgia. I'l never forget the first time I molded japanese dumplings or the first time I mixed thai tea.
I won't soon forget what I made this night and yesterday's either. What do you get when you have on hand thinly sliced beef, juicy, sweet bell peppers, emerald green beans, and a handful of skinny thai peppers? Beef with String Beans (and you thought it was going to be something complicated). And for tonight, heady, spicy, ginger chicken.
Beef With String Beans
Ginger Chicken
