Yellow Noodle (Mì Xào)
Vietnamese Dumplings and Golden Fried Rolls
Mapo Tofu
Char Sui Banh Mi
Broken Rice Plate (Cơm Tấm)
Broccoli Nuggets






Lemon zest has become my new garlic. By which I mean, there’s no such thing as too much. If a recipe calls for a teaspoon, or pinch, or even just as an optional addition, you’d better believe I’m not going to stop zesting until that whole lemon is bald. Unlike garlic, this applies to everything, both sweet and savory (although truth be told, I have bridged that gap for the former, too.)

While there’s never a bad time for dark chocolate, I’ve been craving something lighter, brighter, and breezier. Lemon-Kissed Raspberry Bark is the answer. Invigorating lemon zest cuts the sweetness of white chocolate alongside tart freeze-dried raspberries, delivering a burst of high-contrast, full spectrum flavor in every bite.

Like any good bark, be it of dark or white chocolate, half its beauty lies in its simplicity. All you really need are three basic ingredients, plus optional salt and sprinkles, because life is better with both. Then, it’s just one bowl, one spatula, and a microwave that stands between you and your prize. No fancy equipment or complicated steps are involved. Even on a hot summer’s day when the kitchen is a less inviting place, it’s an ideal dessert to either share or hoard.

Don’t even think about cutting back on the lemon zest. The only acceptable modification is to swap it with another citrus. Orange or lime zest are equally suitable understudies, but don’t forget more unconventional options like yuzu, buddha’s hand, pomelo, makrut lime, and of course, any combination of the aforementioned fruits, too. The raspberries may seem like the star of the show, but it’s really the zest that makes it a winning production.
Not a miracle of modern technology or ancient history, baby corn occupies a strange space on today’s dinner plate. That is, if it makes the plate at all. Rarely do they appear in recipes outside of the Asian culinary canon, relegated to the odd Chinese-American takeout box, drenched in a sticky, sweet sauce. Most consumers would be shocked to learn that baby corn exists outside of cans, despite the obvious logic that it must grow somewhere, beyond a tin foil tomb. It’s time to pull baby corn off the shelf and put it at the center of the plate.

True to name, baby corn are, in fact, whole corn cobs, picked before they’re fully mature. This is exactly the same breed of sweet corn tossed on the grill, slathered with butter, and shucked all summer long. At this early stage, the entire vegetable is fully edible because the cobs haven’t fully developed. Though the growing process is the same, baby corn are comparably more expensive than adult corn because they must be picked by hand, making them much more labor-intensive to harvest.
Cutting corn from the stalk early explains their mild flavor as well. Baby corn don’t have as much time to develop sweetness, making them more starchy and crisp than anything else. That crunchy texture is a great asset that makes them such great candidates for quick cooking or no cooking at all.

Surprisingly little is known about the exact history of how baby corn came to be a worldwide sensation. Corn itself boasts an ancient lineage, dating back thousands of years to its domestication in Mexico. However, the practice of harvesting immature corn cobs seems to be an innovation that blossomed in Asia. Today, Thailand is the leading cultivator of this miniature vegetable, but there are scant records of how and when it made the leap.

The subtle, fairly neutral flavor of baby corn makes it endlessly versatile. It can slip right into pretty much any dish, shine when seasoned with any array of spices, and play nicely with any accompaniments.



Baby corn stands as an open invitation to explore the vegetable kingdom, even for the travel-weary. A departure from the norm but still well within the realm of known produce, there’s always a can within easy reach. Go ahead, grab one, and try something new. It’s not a gamble to bet on the culinary potential of this intriguing miniature cob.






2023 Effervescent Rosé

Soaring temperatures are a given on a typical summer’s day. As the mercury inevitably pushes higher, breaking new records with every passing season, the desire to spend time in the kitchen plummets proportionally. Unfortunately, those with a sweet tooth know that nothing will quell the craving for a satisfying sweet treat. It may very well be raining fire because unless it’s an actual apocalypse, dessert still must be served- And in that case, perhaps even more so.

Why is it so hard to just get motivated and make the same tried-and-true staples that always hit the spot? Chocolate chip cookies are foolproof, but this simple indulgence takes on a greater level of complexity when you factor in the unique stumbling blocks of summer. There’s the basic issue of turning on the oven, subjecting oneself to a punishing sauna even more brutal than the sun’s rays, and the time it takes for preheating, baking, and finally cooling down draws the suffering out to an interminable torture.
It’s also been proven that we’re less ambitious and productive during these midyear months, beckoned away from work by tempting beaches, hikes, or just lazy afternoons with friends. This is when most people go on vacations, after all, whether that’s a physical journey or just a mental respite. Convincing yourself to work harder while everyone else has all the fun is a losing battle that no one really should have to fight.

Want to end any sweltering day with a flourish? Pull out a towering icebox cake, layered with ripe, lightly spiced peaches, whipped coconut cream, and softened graham crackers. Despite the name, there’s no cake here and it doesn’t come out of the freezer! Rather, this old-school moniker came from an age when the only source of refrigeration was from a poorly insulated box, much like a picnic cooler, stuffed with rapidly melting ice. This modern take on no-bake cake will come as a happy surprise when it lands on the table, ready to slice and serve with minimal effort.
So go ahead, take it easy. Escape the heat, simplify your menu, but perish the thought of skipping dessert. No-bake desserts exist for just such occasions, rewarding a minimum amount of effort with sweet gratification.
Anchovies are a polarizing ingredient. The little silver fish are as good as gold by some eaters, and worse than rotting garbage on a hot summer’s day to others. If you’re vegan, obviously that’s a nonstarter, but I’d like to solve that dilemma and win over the haters all in one bite. Plant-based anchovies are here at last.

The lack of fish-free proteins has long been the thorn in my side, as a former (short lived) pescatarian. Lagging behind all manner of plant-based innovations from cheese to beef, it’s still rare to find products that fit the bill or recipes that come close to the genuine article. Anchovies, perhaps unsurprisingly, are completely absent from that conversation. Inspired by a friend who’s a fervent fan of the canned sea critters, I set out to create my own oily fish from eggplant.

Eggplant, believe it or not, has the perfect buttery, melt-in-your-mouth texture once brined and marinated. Essentially the sponge of the vegetable kingdom, they soak in all the bold, umami, salty flavors you need and crave in conventional anchovies. Sugimoto Shiitake Mushroom Powder is the key to success, contributing that intense savory, meaty, faintly earthy flavor taste, without imparting an overtly mushroom-y character. Working in concert with the oceanic essence of kombu seaweed, tart capers, and sharp white vinegar, the results are intense, rich, and briny in all the best ways.

Anchovies, like shiitake, are champions of umami, the savory “fifth taste” that adds depth and richness to food. A single anchovy can elevate a dish from bland to “wow” by adding complexity in an instant. A little bit goes a long way, like tiny flavor bombs ready to detonate upon impact. They’re the secret ingredient in Caesar salad dressing, a base for the fragrant fish sauces of Southeast Asia, and the magic touch in Italian puttanesca sauce.

Before anyone asks: No, you can’t reduce the salt. No, you can’t remove the oil.

Once you have them at your disposal, you’ll find endless options for enjoying your homemade anchovies.

Start thinking about them like you would olives. Use sparingly, but frequently, for maximum satisfaction.

Perhaps eggplant anchovies are the plant-based alternative that no one asked for, but I promise they’ll become an irreplaceable staple in your kitchen, too. Just imagine the look on a seafood lover’s face when you unveil a dish bursting with the briny, rich, savory depth they crave, made entirely with plant-based provisions. Eggplant anchovies are your secret weapon, a simple substitution that shatters the stereotype of vegan food being bland. They not only add umami magic but open a world of culinary possibilities. You’ll never be able to look at the humble nightshade the same way again.