Christmas shopping, year two. Same mall. Same hatred. Same results: Tyler gets a socket set and a gift card (the man is sixteen and his interests are cars and video games, I work within the parameters). Emma gets a chef's knife — a Victorinox Fibrox, which is the best entry-level chef's knife on the market. Eight-inch blade, comfortable grip, holds an edge. It's not a $200 Japanese knife. It's a $35 workhorse that will last her years if she takes care of it. Also a cookbook: "Vietnamese Food Any Day" by Andrea Nguyen.
Lily gets a fishing rod — her own, not a borrowed one. After the Galveston trip where she caught the terrible hardhead catfish, she's been asking. It's a medium-light spinning combo, appropriate for bay fishing, and it comes with a tackle box that she'll fill with the wrong lures and lose half of them in the first trip. That's the process.
Ma gets a new pho pot. Her old one — the one she's used for forty years — is dented and the handle is held on with a wing nut. She won't throw it out because it was one of the first things she bought in America. But she needs a backup. So I bought a twelve-quart stainless steel stockpot, heavy-bottomed, from a restaurant supply catalog (employee discount — the one perk of my job that actually matters). She'll say it's too much. She'll use it. She'll still use the old one for special occasions because some things can't be replaced.
Christmas is Christine's this year — she gets Eve and morning, I get noon onward. Same deal as last year but reversed. I'll pick up the kids, bring them home, and we'll have the second Christmas. I'm making pho again. Christmas pho. The tradition holds.
But I'm adding something new this year: I'm making Ma's banh chung — the sticky rice cakes from Tet. She makes them every Lunar New Year but I've never tried. This week I asked her to teach me. She looked at me for a long time and said, "It takes two days." I said, "I know." She said, "You won't do it right the first time." I said, "I know." She said, "Come on Saturday."
Saturday: I went. She taught me. The banana leaves, the mung bean paste, the pork, the wrapping technique that requires a specific fold she tried to show me nine times. My first banh chung looked like it had been wrapped by someone wearing mittens. Ma said nothing. She unwrapped it, handed me the leaf, and said, "Again."
Again. The most important word in cooking.
Ma’s banh chung isn’t something I can give you yet — I’m nine attempts in and she still shakes her head at my folds. But what I can give you is another recipe built on the same principle: rice and meat, shaped by hand, made better by doing it again. Porcupine meatballs are the American comfort-food cousin of that idea — ground pork and rice formed into balls, simmered low and slow until the rice puffs out like little spines. They’re forgiving in a way banh chung is not, and they’re a good place to start if you want to teach your hands to work with rice and meat together.
Porcupine Meatballs
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour | Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 pounds ground pork
- 2/3 cup uncooked long-grain white rice
- 1/3 cup finely minced onion
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 large egg, beaten
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 can (15 ounces) tomato sauce
- 1 can (14.5 ounces) diced tomatoes, undrained
- 1 cup water
- 1 tablespoon brown sugar
- 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
Instructions
- Mix the meatball base. In a large bowl, combine the ground pork, uncooked rice, minced onion, garlic, beaten egg, salt, pepper, and Worcestershire sauce. Mix with your hands until everything is evenly distributed — don’t overwork it, just get it combined.
- Shape the meatballs. Form the mixture into balls about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. You should get roughly 24 meatballs. Set them on a plate as you go.
- Build the sauce. In a large deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat, stir together the tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, water, brown sugar, and smoked paprika. Bring to a gentle simmer.
- Add the meatballs. Carefully place the meatballs into the simmering sauce in a single layer. Spoon some sauce over the tops so they’re mostly covered.
- Cover and cook low. Reduce heat to low, cover with a tight-fitting lid, and simmer for 1 hour. Do not stir for the first 30 minutes — let the rice absorb and the meatballs set. After 30 minutes, gently spoon sauce over the meatballs and continue cooking, covered, until the rice is tender and puffed.
- Rest and serve. Let the meatballs sit uncovered for 5 minutes before serving. Spoon them over mashed potatoes or egg noodles with plenty of the sauce.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 370 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 780mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 90 of Bobby’s 30-year story
· Houston, Texas
Bobby Tran was born in a refugee camp in Arkansas to parents who fled Saigon with nothing. He grew up in Houston straddling two worlds — Vietnamese at home, Texan everywhere else — and learned to cook from his mother's pho and a neighbor's BBQ smoker. He's a former shrimper, a recovering alcoholic, a divorced dad of three, and the guy who marinates brisket in fish sauce and lemongrass because he doesn't believe in borders, especially when it comes to flavor.