Memorial Day at Smoke and Fish Sauce. The first Memorial Day as a restaurant. We did a special menu: the full Bobby Tran BBQ spread from the backyard cookouts — brisket, ribs, sausage, coleslaw, spring rolls — served family-style for tables of four or more.
Seventy-five covers for the holiday service. People who'd been coming to my backyard cookouts for years showed up at the restaurant. Ray and Maria Gutierrez, first time eating at a table instead of a lawn chair. Tam Nguyen and his wife. Bill and Margaret. Hector and his family.
Ray ate his brisket and said, "Bobby, this tastes the same as the backyard." That's the highest compliment. The restaurant hasn't changed the food. It's just given it a roof.
But here's the thing I'm learning: a restaurant changes YOU. The rhythm is different. The backyard was weekends — long, lazy cooks with no time pressure. The restaurant is every day — precision, timing, volume. I'm slicing brisket from 5 PM to 9 PM, standing at the cutting board, making sure every slice is even, every plate is right. The repetition is meditative and brutal. My hands know the knife angle by muscle memory now. My knee knows the concrete by throbbing memory.
Tyler finished his first year at HCC with a 3.8 GPA. He'll finish next spring with his ASE certification. But he's already committed: the restaurant is his future. HCC is the backup. The smoker is the plan.
Emma made her college decision this week. She chose the University of Houston — the culinary arts program combined with a business minor. She's staying in Houston. She's staying close to the restaurant. She said, "I don't need to go to New York to learn how to cook. I need to be where my family is. I can learn everything I need right here."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that the world is bigger than Houston, that the CIA in New York is the gold standard, that she should go far and come back changed. But I looked at my daughter — eighteen, brilliant, standing in a restaurant kitchen she helped design — and I realized: she's already changed. She doesn't need to leave to become herself. She is herself.
She's staying. The sous chef is staying. The next chapter of Smoke and Fish Sauce just got a lot more interesting.
Ma heard the news and said, "Good. She should stay close." Vietnamese mothers and their gravitational pull. The orbit never breaks.
Every Memorial Day spread I’ve ever cooked — backyard or restaurant — started with spring rolls hitting the table before anyone sat down. They’re the thing people grab while the brisket rests, the food that says we’re Vietnamese and we’re Texan and both of those are true at the same time. This teriyaki egg roll version is what I taught Emma to fry when she was fourteen, standing on a step stool at the stove — and watching her run that same station now, at eighteen, about to start the culinary program at UH, reminded me that some recipes don’t just feed people; they raise them. If you’re building your own family-style spread this holiday, start here.
Teriyaki Egg Rolls
Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 14–16 egg rolls (serves 6–8)
Ingredients
- 1 lb ground pork (or ground chicken)
- 3 tablespoons teriyaki sauce, plus more for dipping
- 1 teaspoon sesame oil
- 2 cups coleslaw mix (shredded cabbage and carrots)
- 3 green onions, thinly sliced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
- 1 tablespoon soy sauce
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 14–16 egg roll wrappers
- 1 egg, beaten (for sealing)
- Vegetable oil, for frying (about 3 cups)
Instructions
- Cook the filling. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, brown the ground pork, breaking it up as it cooks, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat. Add garlic and ginger and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Season and add vegetables. Stir in the coleslaw mix, green onions, teriyaki sauce, soy sauce, sesame oil, and black pepper. Toss until the cabbage is just wilted, about 2–3 minutes. Remove from heat and let the filling cool to room temperature, at least 10 minutes. (Warm filling tears wrappers.)
- Roll the egg rolls. Place an egg roll wrapper on a clean surface in a diamond orientation. Spoon about 2 tablespoons of filling across the lower third of the wrapper. Fold the bottom corner up over the filling, then fold in the left and right corners snugly. Roll forward firmly, brushing the top corner with beaten egg to seal. Repeat with remaining wrappers and filling.
- Heat the oil. In a deep skillet or Dutch oven, heat 2–3 inches of vegetable oil to 350°F. Use a thermometer — the temperature matters for a crispy, non-greasy shell.
- Fry in batches. Working in batches of 3–4, lower egg rolls seam-side down into the hot oil. Fry 3–4 minutes, turning once, until deep golden brown on all sides. Transfer to a wire rack or paper-towel-lined plate. Hold in a 200°F oven if frying in multiple batches.
- Serve immediately. Arrange on a platter and serve with extra teriyaki sauce for dipping. For a family-style spread, slice each roll on the diagonal and stack them — more surface area, more crunch, more drama on the table.
Nutrition (per serving, 2 egg rolls)
Calories: 230 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 510mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 264 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.