Readers Frequently Ask Readers of The Book of Salt most often want to know whether I am a cook. The answer is a resounding yes (You could even add a “hallelujah!” before that yes). Cooking, or rather the techniques and the sensibilities of an avid cook, was one of the few things about my first novel that I did not have to research. I have been cooking and reading cookbooks since I was seven years old. While I had to research the types of dishes that Bình, who is the live-in cook for the American writer Gertrude Stein (“Rose is a rose is a rose”) and her lover Alice B. Toklas in their Paris home, would have cooked, I otherwise felt free to draw upon my own experiences in the kitchen. For example, though I have never killed a pigeon with my bare hands (or in any other manner!), when I wrote the passage in which Toklas teaches Bình the technique, I knew that the fingertips of a cook can often “see” much better than the eyes. (Think about sorting dried beans or fresh cranberries and how your eyes can deceive you about the quality of what is in front of you. It is only when you plunge your fingers into the bowl that you can finally locate the hidden pebble or the soft and wilted berry.)
A Major Influence on My Writing Gabriel García Márquez's writing engages all of the senses. I never feel as if I am on the surface of his narratives. I am never looking in, a pane of glass between them and me. I am inside of them. I smell the scent of bitter almonds. I see the house filled with yellow butterflies. I hear “the desolate breath of the sea.” I taste the artificial sweetener that he so aptly describes “as a sad sweetness … something like a ringing but without bells.”
BÒ KHO
Makes 4–6 servings
Adapted from Into the Vietnamese Kitchen: Treasured Foodways, Modern Flavors by Andrea Nguyen (Ten Speed Press, 2006)
My first novel, The Book of Salt, was about Bình, a young, gay Vietnamese man who worked as a live-in cook for Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas in their legendary Paris apartment on the 27 rue de Fleurus. A reporter once asked me which dish I would cook for Stein and Toklas if I had the chance. I immediately thought of this Vietnamese take on daube de boeuf or French beef stew. Bò Kho is a quintessential example of what we now call fusion cuisine.
I knew that Stein and Toklas, or my “Mesdames” as Bình called them, would be tickled by how recognizable this dish was: cubes of tender beef and chunks of carrots in a slow-cooked sauce. But once they take a bite, the stew's complex flavors would make these two ladies swoon with the pleasures of the unknown: five-spice powder, star anise, turmeric, fresh ginger, and lemongrass. I, of course, would offer the stew and the accompanying loaf of French bread to them without a fork or a spoon, and I would invite Stein and Toklas to eat with their hands. Bình, I know, would enjoy the impropriety of it all.
Note: Allow 24 hours for the beef to marinate. (This stew may be made up to 2 days in advance, cooled, and refrigerated. Actually, like all stews, it is best made ahead and gently reheated.)
Chinese five-spice powder and whole star anise can be found in the spice aisle of many grocery stores. You can find fresh lemongrass and Thai basil leaves at Asian markets or specialty grocers.
The lemongrass will come apart during cooking. I don't mind pieces of lemongrass floating in the finished sauce, but if you prefer to contain the stringy pieces, place the lemongrass in a piece of cheesecloth and tie the pouch with clean string before adding to bowl.
FOR THE MARINADE AND MEAT
2 stalks fresh lemongrass (use only the compact bottom halves of the stalks, discarding the top looser leaves); cut into 3-inch lengths and bruised with a meat cleaver or the bottom of a heavy sauce pan (see note)
3 tablespoons fish sauce
3 garlic cloves, peeled and minced fine or put through a garlic press (but preferably mashed into a paste with a mortar and pestle or the back of a heavy knife)
1½ teaspoons Chinese five-spice powder (see note)
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
1 tablespoon turbinado sugar
½ teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3-inch piece fresh gingerroot, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks, bruised with a cleaver or the bottom of a heavy sauce pan
2 pounds boneless beef chuck, cut into 1½-inch chunks
FOR THE STEW
3 tablespoons canola oil, divided
1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped
1 14-ounce can crushed tomatoes
2 teaspoons turbinado sugar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 whole star anise (see note)
1 cup beef broth
2 cups water
1 pound carrots, peeled and cut into 1½-inch chunks
ACCOMPANIMENTS
2 loaves French bread, warmed in the oven
1 cup cilantro leaves
2/3 cup Thai basil leaves (see note)
2 limes, cut into small wedges
1 To make the marinade: In a large bowl, combine the lemongrass or lemongrass pouch (see note), fish sauce, garlic, five-spice powder, turmeric, sugar, salt, pepper, and ginger. Add the beef, and mix to coat evenly. Cover with plastic wrap and marinate overnight in the refrigerator. Take the meat out of the refrigerator about 30 minutes before proceeding to next step.
2 Remove meat from marinade. Reserve the lemongrass and the ginger from the marinade, and discard any remaining marinade.
3 In a 5-quart Dutch oven or similarly heavy-bottomed pot, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking. Working in small batches, cook several pieces of the beef until well-browned on all sides, 3–5 minutes. (Reduce heat if oil begins to smoke or food begins to burn.) Transfer cooked beef to a clean bowl. Repeat procedure with remaining beef and oil.
4 Lower the heat to medium-low and add onion. Cook, scraping bottom of pan to loosen any browned bits, until onion is fragrant and soft, 4–5 minutes. Add tomatoes, sugar, and salt, and stir to combine. Cover and cook for 12–14 minutes, or until the mixture is fragrant and has reduced to a rough paste. Check occasionally to make sure tomato mixture is not sticking to the bottom of the pan. If it does, add a bit of water to the pan and stir.
5 When the paste has formed, add the beef, the reserved lemongrass pouch and ginger, and star anise. Cook, uncovered, for another 5 minutes.
6 Add the broth and water and bring to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and cover. Cook for 1¼ hours or until the beef is close to being done and is chewy-tender. To test for this, press on a piece; it should yield but still feel firm.
7 Add the carrots and return the stew to a lively simmer. Cook uncovered for 30 minutes or until the carrots are tender.
8 Just before serving, taste the stew. Add a bit more salt or fish sauce, if needed. Or if the taste of the tomatoes is too acidic, add a bit of sugar. If the sauce seems overall too strong in flavor, add a bit of water. You are looking for a balance of salty and sweet and savory (in other words, the balance that is the hallmark of many Vietnamese main dishes).
9 Discard the lemongrass, ginger, and star anise, and serve the stew in wide bowls.
10 On the dining table, offer the loaves of French bread (warmed in the oven is best), the herbs, and the lime wedges. Encourage diners to add the herbs according to their taste. Ask your guests to tear the leaves of the herbs into bite-sized pieces before adding them to their bowl. This final touch of freshness (the fragrance of the herbs) and a judicious squirt of lime are very important to this dish.
11 Finally, diners should feel free to eat with their hands as well as with a fork. Tear the hot bread and dip it into the stew's sauce. (The sauce is why many people eat this dish!)
PALMIERS
Makes 3 dozen cookies
I first read about Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas's “experiences with the Indochinese” in The Alice B. Toklas Cook Book. First published in 1954, Toklas's book is equal parts entertaining memoir and compendium of recipes. Toklas writes fondly about a cook who had worked previously in the French Governor-General's house in Saigon. She describes how he alway
s made sure that there was a fresh supply of fruit purées, whipped cream, almond paste, and puff pastry dough in the icebox. That way, he could whip up at the drop of a hat (her hat, of course) a tray of elaborate French pastries whenever unexpected guests would appear at the front door.
This recipe calls for frozen puff pastry dough, and I am not sure whether Toklas's cook, who was so clearly classically trained, would have approved of such a convenience item. I, who sorely lack the benefit of his time and labor, certainly approve of frozen puff pastry dough. I always feel prepared, a bit privileged, and wholly transported to France whenever I make a plate of these easy but impressive little cookies.
Note: These cookies are mini versions of the American “Elephant Ears.”
The puff pastry should be about 9″ × 9½″ in size. If you use puff pastry that is smaller, gently roll the dough until it reaches this size.
2 sheets frozen puff pastry dough, such as Pepperidge Farm, thawed but still very cold
4–6 tablespoons salted butter, melted and cooled
¼–1/3 cup turbinado sugar
1 Place rack in center of oven, and preheat oven to 400°F. Cover two cookie sheets with heavy-duty foil or parchment paper. If using foil, spray the foil with a light coating of nonstick cooking spray. Set aside.
2 Working with one sheet of dough at a time (keep the other sheet in the fridge until you are ready to work with it), place a sheet of dough onto a work surface (an inverted cookie sheet makes for an easy to clean work surface). Because the dough is still very cold, you will not need to flour the work surface. Unfold the sheet of dough and brush it evenly with melted butter.
3 Sprinkle turbinado sugar so that it lightly but evenly coats the dough's surface.
4 The dough is rectangular in shape. Roll the two longer sides in (jelly roll style) so that they meet in the middle. Press the two sides together gently so the resulting roll keeps its shape.
5 Use a sharp knife and cut the log cross-wise into ½-inch thick pieces. Don't worry if the pieces get a bit misshapen while you are doing this.
6 Lay the pieces flat on a prepared cookie sheet, about 2 inches apart. Reshape the pieces, if needed. Pinch and press the sides of the two rolls together so they don't unroll during baking. Brush the tops and sides of the pieces with more melted butter. Then, sprinkle a bit more turbinado sugar on top.
7 Bake in oven for 10–13 minutes until their bottoms have turned golden brown and are a bit caramelized. This recipe is rather forgiving, so open up that oven and peek. Don't let these babies burn. Using a small spatula and the tip of a knife to assist, turn the pieces over, one at a time. (Take the pan out of the oven to do this, if necessary. But try to do it as quickly as possible.)
8 Bake for another 4–5 minutes until the other sides are golden and caramelized. Depending on your oven and how evenly it heats, you may need to remove the palmiers as they become ready.
9 Place the palmiers on a cookie rack to cool completely. (Try not to eat them while they are still warm, as they'll be a bit chewy as opposed to crisp on the outside, as they should be when they are completely cool.)
10 Repeat steps with the second sheet of dough.
NOUVEAU-SOUTHERN SUMMER SQUASH CASSEROLE
Makes 6 servings
Adapted from a recipe from Randy Yates, the proprietor of the Ajax Diner in Oxford, Mississippi
I set my second novel, Bitter in the Mouth, in Boiling Springs, North Carolina, the little town where my parents and I first lived when we came to the United States in 1975 as refugees from the Vietnam War. I borrowed the southern locale from my own life, but otherwise the similarities between the novel's main character, Linda Hammerick, and me end there, more or less. Linda has a neurological condition that causes her to taste many of the words that she hears and speaks. She is a mystery to herself and, as it turns out, to us as well.
Casseroles were the bane of Linda's childhood, but when she returns to Boiling Springs for the funeral of a beloved family member, she makes sure that summer squash casserole is offered at the luncheon held in his honor. The dish, like so many of the foods and flavors in Linda's life, is significant for reasons that she alone can understand. (Though in this instance, her best friend Kelly also knows what “squash” has to offer.)
Needless to say, the classic southern cook would not use Parmesan cheese for the topping and would opt instead for Ritz or Saltine cracker crumbs. Linda Hammerick is not a classic southern character, so this casserole is very much in her spirit and in her honor.
Note: I recommend using a substantial bread, such as a ciabatta, to make the crumbs. If you are using very fresh or very soft bread, such as supermarket sandwich bread, you may need to toast slightly before processing.
As the author of a novel titled The Book of Salt, I have some definite opinions about salt. I recommend that you use flor do sal from Portugal. Like all fleur de sel (the French name for this type of sea salt), it is flaky and delicate and has a lower salinity level than kosher or regular table salt. Flor do sal also has a gentle, almost sweet, after taste. I find this very pleasing and addictive. I know that the prevailing advice is never to cook with fleur de sel but rather to sprinkle it on right before serving as a finishing touch. I think this has to do more with cost than flavor. Flor do sal is expensive and will undoubtedly bankrupt me. I urge you to try cooking with a really beautiful delicate salt such as a flor do sal at least once, and see whether you will return to the sensible and the economical.
The most important thing, though, is to cook with the salt that you know best. There are significant variations in the salinity level of salts and whether the salt melts immediately or melts slowly into the food. Therefore, a teaspoon of kosher salt is not the same as a teaspoon of flor do sal. So, perhaps, the last thing to say on this topic is the first piece of advice that all cooks should learn and heed: you must taste your food as you are cooking it!
This is a rich, buttery dish. Use the lesser amount of butter if you prefer a lighter version.
3 slices white bread (see note)
3½–5 1/3 tablespoons salted butter (see note)
1 medium yellow onion, sliced into ¼-inch-thick half moons
2¼ pounds fresh summer squash, sliced crosswise into ½-inch thick coins (about 8 cups squash coins)
1¼–1½ teaspoons kosher salt or flor do sal (see note)
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 Preheat oven to 375°F.
2 Make the fresh bread crumbs (see note): Use a food processor to grind bread (including crust) into crumbs. You should have about 1 cup. Set aside.
3 In a large frying pan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté until soft and pale yellow.
4 Add the squash, salt, and pepper. Stir to coat the squash pieces in the butter. Cover, turn down heat to achieve a brisk simmer, and cook for about 15 minutes, stirring once.
5 Remove cover and give a good stir and cook for another 5 minutes uncovered.
6 Add ¾ cup of the bread crumbs and mix well.
7 Spoon mixture into a 2-quart oven-safe pan or casserole (more wide than deep because you will want a lot of top surface to get crispy.)
8 In a bowl, mix the remaining ¼ cup of bread crumbs with the Parmesan cheese. Sprinkle the crumb and cheese mixture on top of the squash.
9 Cover with foil and bake for about 30–35 minutes. (This dish, despite the addition of the Parmesan cheese, is an old-school southern vegetable dish at heart, which means that the squash should be very soft and almost about to lose its shape when the dish is done cooking. Aim for a melt-in-your-mouth texture for the squash and a crunch for the topping.)
10 Uncover the dish and bake until the cheese and crumb topping is golden, 5–7 minutes.
11 Let the dish rest for at least 15 minutes before serving.
Thrity Umrigar
Robert Muller
SELECTED WOEKS
The Clarifying Principle (2012)<
br />
The Weight of Heaven (2009)
If Today Be Sweet (2007)
The Space Between Us (2006)
First Darling of the Morning: Selected Memories from an Indian Childhood (2003)
Bombay Time (2001)
Inspiration Inspiration can come from multiple sources — from a story I may have heard, a chance encounter with someone, an image that has come into my head unprompted, the color of the sky on a particular evening, an idea that I wish to explore further, a question that I want to answer for myself. All I need is a small germ of fact or image or idea and then I can build on that.
Readers Should Know Although my books deal with a myriad of issues, they have a few things in common. Almost all of them are concerned with the idea of power — who has it, who doesn't, how it is used by those who do against those who don't. This leads to an examination of class, race, and gender differences. My books also deal with the issue of community — how it is built, what destroys it, why it is important. And in some way or another, I'm interested in talking about love, in all its different forms and complications and how far human beings will go to have it and keep it.
Readers Frequently Ask The most common question, hands down, is the very specific question about what happens to Bhima at the end of The Space Between Us. I'm constantly amazed and amused by the number of readers who send me desperate-sounding e-mails saying their book club almost came to blows over different interpretations of the ending or begging me to settle the bet that they have taken with another book club member by telling them my interpretation of the ending.
Table of Contents: From Breakfast With Anita Diamant to Dessert With James Patterson - a Generous Helping of Recipes, Writings and Insights From Today's Bestselling Authors Page 23
