New Year's Eve. The end of 2021. The year the restaurant opened. The year the fire got a home.
At the restaurant. We did a New Year's Eve service — a special tasting menu: five courses, $65 per person, two seatings. Sixty people per seating. 120 total. The most ambitious service we've ever attempted.
Course 1: Ma's spring rolls with three dipping sauces (nuoc cham, peanut, and the Vietnamese BBQ sauce). Course 2: the Smoked Brisket Pho, served in small bowls as a soup course. Course 3: Tyler's smoked duck breast with tamarind reduction and stir-fried bok choy. Course 4: Bobby's first-place brisket, sliced, with pickled vegetables and rice. Course 5: Emma's lemongrass crème brûlée with Vietnamese coffee ice cream.
The kitchen ran. Not perfectly — the timing on the second seating was off by seven minutes, and we ran low on duck (Tyler undersized the order). But it ran. Five courses, 120 people, one family. The kitchen that a twelve-year-old girl set in motion when she signed me up for a food blog.
At midnight, the staff gathered in the kitchen. Tyler, Emma, Lily, Maria, Priya, Marcus the server, and me. La Croix was raised. "To 2022," I said. "To the restaurant. To the team. To every plate we served and every fire we lit and every person who sat at these tables and trusted us with their hunger."
Tyler said, "To the fire."
Emma said, "To the pho."
Lily said, "To the brand."
And from the dining room, where Ma was sitting in her chair with her tea, came a voice: "To the spring rolls."
We laughed. All of us. In a kitchen that smells like smoke and fish sauce and lemongrass, at midnight on New Year's Eve, in a restaurant that shouldn't exist but does because a family decided to cook.
2021: the year Smoke and Fish Sauce opened. Revenue since May: approximately $600,000. Net profit: approximately $180,000. Staff: eight people, including four family members. Customers served: approximately 25,000. Spring rolls made by Mai Tran: approximately 10,000.
2022: year two of the restaurant. Year seven of writing. Year thirteen of sobriety.
The fire keeps burning. Happy New Year. See you Monday.
After a service like that — 120 people, five courses, a kitchen that ran on fumes and adrenaline and the sound of Ma laughing from the dining room — the only thing I wanted to carry into the new year was something sweet. Emma’s lemongrass crème brûlée was the note we ended 2021 on, and it felt right: rich, careful, a little fire at the finish. If you want to bring that same energy to your own table this winter, these desserts are built for exactly that kind of moment — the kind where you’ve earned the last course.
Winter Desserts
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 6 medium pears, peeled and halved, cores scooped out
- 2 cups dry red wine
- 1 cup water
- 1/2 cup granulated sugar
- 1 cinnamon stick
- 3 whole cloves
- 1 star anise
- 1 strip orange zest (about 3 inches)
- 1 strip lemon zest (about 2 inches)
- 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, for serving
- Crushed toasted pistachios or candied walnuts, for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Make the poaching liquid. In a wide saucepan or deep skillet, combine the red wine, water, sugar, cinnamon stick, cloves, star anise, orange zest, and lemon zest. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat, stirring until the sugar dissolves, about 3—4 minutes.
- Poach the pears. Add the pear halves cut-side down in a single layer. Reduce heat to medium-low so the liquid maintains a gentle simmer. Cook uncovered for 20—25 minutes, turning pears once halfway through, until tender when pierced with a paring knife. Cooking time will vary with pear ripeness.
- Reduce the syrup. Remove the pears carefully with a slotted spoon and set aside. Raise the heat to medium-high and cook the remaining liquid until reduced by half and syrupy, about 12—15 minutes. Remove spices and zest strips. Stir in the vanilla extract.
- Cool and plate. Let pears and syrup cool to room temperature, or refrigerate for up to 2 days — they improve as they rest and absorb the spiced syrup. To serve, arrange 2 pear halves per plate, drizzle generously with the warm reduced syrup, and finish with whipped cream or a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
- Garnish and serve. Scatter crushed pistachios or candied walnuts over the top if desired. Serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 8mg
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 286 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.