Salsa Steak Garlic Toasts

Tax season wrapping up. I do my own taxes, which Linh thinks is insane and Emma thinks is stubborn and Tyler thinks is normal because he does his own too. I sit at the kitchen table with a calculator and a stack of receipts and I grind through it. My finances are not complicated. I sell restaurant equipment on commission, I own a small house in Alief, and I have a savings account that is slowly being drained by my ambition to take my eighty-three-year-old mother to Vietnam. The IRS is not impressed by any of this, nor should they be.

Lily brought James over for dinner Sunday. This is becoming a pattern, which I recognize as significant. When your daughter starts bringing someone to Sunday dinner regularly, you're not being introduced — you're being integrated. James brought a container of chin chin — a Nigerian fried dough snack that his mother makes and ships to him from Chicago. It was sweet, crunchy, lightly spiced, and addictive. I ate more than was polite and asked for the recipe. James said he'd ask his mother but warned me that she guards her recipes "like state secrets." I said I understood completely. My mother is the same way. We bonded over maternal recipe secrecy, which is apparently a cross-cultural phenomenon.

James and I talked about the restaurant industry while Lily was on the phone. He's working as a sous chef at a steakhouse in the Galleria area, but his real passion is fusion — specifically, the intersection of West African and American Southern BBQ traditions. He pointed out that both traditions center on slow-cooking tough cuts of meat over wood fire, that the spice profiles are different but the philosophy is identical: patience, heat, smoke, time. I said that's exactly what Vietnamese and Texas BBQ have in common. He said, "That's not a coincidence." I said, "No, it's not." We understood each other.

I made clay pot catfish — cá kho tộ — which is one of my favorite things to cook and also one of the most Vietnamese dishes in my repertoire. Catfish steaks braised in a clay pot with caramelized fish sauce, black pepper, shallots, and enough chili to make your eyes water. The sugar in the fish sauce caramelizes into a dark, almost burnt-tasting glaze that sounds wrong but is deeply, profoundly right. James had never had it. He took one bite and set his fork down and looked at it for a second. Then he said, "This is what I want to do." I asked what he meant. He said, "This kind of food. Where two traditions meet and something new happens." I looked at Lily. She was smiling. I think they're going to build something together.

Called Mai after they left. Told her about the chin chin. She asked what it was. I described it. She said, "So it's bánh tiêu." It is absolutely not bánh tiêu, but I have learned that Mai categorizes all fried dough from all cultures as variations of bánh tiêu, and this is not a hill I'm prepared to die on.

James’s instinct at that table — to set his fork down and just look — is the best compliment a dish can get, and it reminded me that the recipes worth making are the ones built on the same philosophy: patience, heat, and something that caramelizes into a flavor you can’t quite explain. I can’t share the cá kho tậ recipe the way my mother taught it to me — some things stay in the clay pot — but these Salsa Steak Garlic Toasts carry that same spirit of bold, uncomplicated food where a little technique does a lot of work. It’s the kind of thing I’d put on the table between a plate of chin chin and a conversation about smoke and fire, and nobody would complain.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs flank steak or sirloin, trimmed
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 cup chunky salsa (medium or hot), plus more for serving
1 French baguette, cut diagonally into 1/2-inch slices (about 18 slices)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1/2 cup shredded Monterey Jack or pepper Jack cheese
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, roughly chopped, for garnish
Sour cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Season the steak. Pat the steak dry with paper towels. In a small bowl, combine the salt, black pepper, garlic powder, and smoked paprika. Rub the spice mixture evenly over both sides of the steak. Let it rest at room temperature for 10 minutes while you prepare the toasts.
Make the garlic butter. In a small bowl, mix together the softened butter, minced garlic, and chopped parsley until well combined. Set aside.
Toast the bread. Preheat your broiler to high. Arrange the baguette slices in a single layer on a large baking sheet. Spread a thin layer of garlic butter on each slice. Broil 4–5 inches from the heat for 2–3 minutes, until the edges are golden and crisp. Watch carefully — they go from golden to burnt fast. Remove from the oven and set aside. Leave the broiler on.
Sear the steak. Heat the vegetable oil in a large cast-iron or heavy skillet over high heat until just smoking. Add the steak and sear, undisturbed, for 3–4 minutes per side for medium-rare, or until an instant-read thermometer reads 130°F. Transfer to a cutting board and tent loosely with foil. Rest for 5 minutes.
Warm the salsa. While the steak rests, pour the salsa into the same skillet over medium heat. Stir, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Simmer for 2–3 minutes until slightly thickened. Remove from heat.
Slice the steak. Cut the steak in half lengthwise if wide, then slice thinly across the grain — about 1/4-inch slices. The thin cut is important; it’s what keeps the toast from becoming unwieldy.
Assemble the toasts. Lay 2–3 slices of steak on each garlic toast. Spoon a small amount of warmed salsa over each piece. Sprinkle with shredded cheese. Return the baking sheet to the broiler for 1–2 minutes, just until the cheese melts and begins to bubble.
Garnish and serve. Transfer toasts to a serving platter. Scatter fresh cilantro over the top. Serve immediately with extra salsa and sour cream on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Salsa Steak Garlic Toasts — The Night Two Traditions Recognized Each Other