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Whenever I set out to cook something, I seek maximum oomph with minimal effort. Enter myFragrant Lemongrass and Lime Dressingfor the six-ingredient win. Lemongrass, lime, and garlic combine to create aromatic zing, zest, and a jubilant, eye-closingaaaah(那种发生后吃一些额外的delicious), with a little hug from coconut sugar and pepper. Adding fish sauce brings the funk and the party (vegan fish sauce works a treat too).
But the best thing of all is that it requires no chopping. “How is that possible?” you might ask. Because I use store-bought lemongrass paste and garlic paste.
I toss this zingy dressing with salad leaves and noodles. I bathe roasted vegetables in it. I drizzle it over pan-fried fish and rub it gently onto softened, cooked aubergines like a teasing lover giving a back massage. I let it soak into proteins like pork, chicken, tofu, or tempeh while its sweet-and-sour flavors take hold. Given that it takes only five minutes to make, I consider it life-changing. And once you try it, you’ll keep going back to it again and again. First with a lick of the teaspoon. Then a swirl of your index finger around the bowl to savor every last remnant. It’sthatgood.
The inspiration came from a hot-and-sour brussels sprouts dish I tasted atChin Chin, an innovative Southeast Asian–inspired Australian restaurant in Sydney. The sprouts were skillfully deep-fried, turning a shade just shy of being blackened. Each bite produced a crunch that was audible, coated with a hot-and-sour sauce that shimmered in my mouth with exhilarating flair. As a recipe writer, I commit such experiences to memory and rushed to my kitchen to create my own version of a brussels sprouts dish that was exhilarating-flair-worthy.
At the time I was writing my new cookbookA Splash of Soy.The premise of the book is Asian-ish home cooking that is quick, easy and with minimal mess, with plenty of shortcuts along the way. Deep-frying sprouts was not on the agenda. But charring them in a frying pan absolutely was, as long as it all came together with a worthy sauce. I opted for the sweet-and-sour route because that was the profile I craved for a dressing that could be used as a meat marinade, a salad dressing or a coating for noodles. Coconut sugar (or any kind of dark brown sugar) provided complex, caramel tones and lime, naturally provided the citrus. At the heart of the dressing, I dreamt of lemongrass, an ingredient I love so much I would happily wear its scent as a perfume.
I’ve trained as a chef, run my own high-end catering business, and once worked as a stagiaire in several Michelin kitchens. To write a cookbook that was “quick and easy” meant throwing my chef skills out the window in place of the joyful shortcut. First stop: removing the task of peeling and finely mincing garlic, ginger, or lemongrass.
The lemongrass stalk alone is largely unscented and its outer leaves can get wildly woody. As they age, they become drier but upon bruising they transform. Hit the long grass with a rolling pin or the back of a knife and the juices and aromatic oils contained in its tough fibers will release along with its dazzling fragrance. It takes some pounding before its straw-like texture gives way and finely chopping them into a paste takes time. This is what makes lemongrass paste so special. It cuts straight to the good stuff.
And so, myFragrant Lemongrass and Lime Dressingwas born. You can, of course, opt to use fresh garlic from a bulb and fresh lemongrass. But the minced varieties work so well, and texturally are superior, so it is worth a go. A pinch of white pepper provides a dash of heat, the lime adds tartness, and the sugar brings balance, while fish sauce adds the final hit of umami. When used as a quick marinade for chicken breasts and combined with rice vermicelli noodles, vegetables and Asian herbs in myLemongrass Chicken Noodle Salad of Dreams, the dressing takes on the qualities of a Vietnamesenuoc chambut with the added gusto of the lemongrass paste, the unsung hero of the instant world.
Using minced pastes in this way was a revolution in my home cooking. They have been widely used for years, but I overlooked their usefulness because shortcuts often have a bad reputation. But I’ve learned now that shortcuts and flavor aren’t mutually exclusive; they can be a perfect pair. When cooking is less about the fuss and more about the feast, it leaves us with a taste that makes us want to dive in again and again, like the fragrant lemongrass dressing itself.
