Sauce

Every Vietnamese cook makes this dipping sauce, with the differences among them reflecting personal preferences and regional variations. In general, as you move south the sauce gets sweeter, hotter, and more garlicky. Yet no matter exactly how it is made, its role is always the same: to enhance and unify all the elements of a dish. As with much of Viet cooking, parameters apply more than rules. This recipe will help you develop your own version. Sensing subtle distinctions between sour, sweet, salty, and spicy requires practice. Plus, fish sauces differ, and even lime juice can be inconsistent. To deal with these variables, I don’t mix everything together at once, but rather break up the process to simplify matters for the taste buds. This allows for adjustments along the way. While you may omit the rice vinegar, it actually brightens the flavors and softens any harsh or bitter edges contributed by the lime juice. The garlic is optional; some recipes will suggest including or excluding it.

This emerald-hued oil—along with the Parsley Oil variation—is used to put the finishing touch on many plates that leave Bar Americain’s kitchen. Though admittedly I love it mostly for esthetic purposes, it does add a hint of fresh, herbal flavor too. You can make either of these in advance and refrigerate for up to 2 days; bring to room temperature before serving.

This Southwest-inspired house barbecue sauce is used on its own or as the base of many sauces at Bar Americain. It is slightly sweet from the molasses, honey, and brown sugar and slightly earthy from the dried red chiles. It is the perfect sauce slathered on smoked ribs (page 149), or spiced up and spooned onto grilled oysters on the half shell (page 72). Adding bourbon transports this sauce from Sante Fe to Kentucky in a matter of minutes.