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A good bánh mì is mostly assembly. The bread should be light and crackly, the pâté smeared on thickly, the mayo generous, the meat layered cold and the herbs and pickles loaded right to the edges. A short blast in a hot oven is what crisps the loaf; the filling goes in straight after. Eat standing up over the sink.
A wheat-flour-and-water dough rests for 30 minutes. Mutton mince mixes with onion, garlic and salt with a splash of water (for juiciness). Dough rolls into a long rope; cuts into small (15 g) pieces; rolls each into a thin disc. A teaspoon of filling sits on the disc; the edges pinch into a small money-pouch shape with a pleated top. Simmer in salted water 10 minutes or float in clear mutton broth.
Sliced beef velvets briefly in cornflour and soy, broccoli florets blanch to bright green, and the lot stir-fries hard with garlic and ginger in a soy-oyster-rice-wine sauce. Served over steamed rice.
A quick and elegant stir-fry that balances savoury oyster sauce with tender beef. This dish exemplifies the Chinese technique of high-heat cooking to seal flavours while keeping meat moist. Quality oyster sauce is essential, it should deepen the dish rather than dominate it.
Australia's hand-held lunch and the unofficial national snack: hot beef gravy in a shortcrust base under a flaky puff lid, eaten standing up at the footy with tomato sauce running down your wrist. You build the filling like a thick gravy: minced beef cooked down with onion, beef stock, Worcestershire, tomato and a dark roux until it's sliceable when cool. The cold-filling trick is the one rule a pie shop never breaks: never fill a pie case with hot, loose gravy, because the bottom will go soggy in the oven and your pie will leak the moment you bite it. The chilled filling goes into shortcrust bases, gets a puff pastry lid crimped sharp at the edge, and bakes hot until the top is bronzed and shattering. Eat hot from the bag with a squeezy bottle of tomato sauce, or build a proper plate around it with mushy peas and gravy.
Indonesia's national fried rice, traditionally a way to put yesterday's leftovers to work and now a fixture from street stalls to weeknight kitchens. Beef mince keeps the cooking time short, while kecap manis, soy, shrimp paste and a crumbled stock cube layer the savouriness from four directions. The trick is pressing the rice into the wok and leaving it alone long enough to pick up a proper char before tossing.
A Burmese curry from the country's Indian-origin community, sitting somewhere between a Madras and a Burmese ohn-no in spice profile. You marinate chunks of beef chuck or shin in turmeric, fish sauce and salt while you fry onions in oil until they're deep brown - that long onion fry is the foundation. The beef browns in the same oil, then ginger-garlic paste, paprika and chilli powder go in, then tomato and water turn it into a stew. Two hours of slow simmer until the meat falls apart at a fork. The signature finish is the see byan, a deep red-orange oil slick that rises to the top of the curry as it reduces, which is what the dish is named for. Eaten with rice or paratha, and a small bowl of pickled vegetable on the side.
A wide shallow pot is brushed with beef fat, the warishita sauce (soy-mirin-sake-sugar) is poured in, then thinly sliced beef and a colourful array of vegetables, tofu and shirataki noodles are added in batches as people eat. Each piece dips in raw egg yolk before going in the mouth. A portable hob at the table is traditional but not required.
Each vegetable cooks separately and gets dressed with sesame oil, garlic and soy. They arrange in colourful piles around a mound of rice; an egg fries on top. Gochujang sauce on the side. Diners mix vigorously before eating.
A dish that wears its multi-culture origin on its sleeve: chicken, potato and green pepper in a sweet-savoury soy-based braise (the Han Chinese influence), with star anise, Sichuan pepper, cumin and dried chilli (the Uyghur side), thickened by the starch from chunks of potato, ladled over flat hand-cut belt noodles. The sauce is the centrepiece. Browning sugar in oil before the chicken goes in builds a dark caramel that turns the whole braise a deep brick-red, and the soy underneath gives it weight; the Sichuan peppercorns add a mild numbness rather than dominating. Smell is rich, sweet, slightly spicy, with anise drifting through. Not difficult but not quick, 45 minutes once the prep is done, and the belt noodles are a small project on their own. Born in the 1980s in northern Xinjiang where a generation of Han Chinese migrants opened restaurants alongside the existing Uyghur food economy; the dish is the synthesis of those two traditions and is now the signature dish of Xinjiang cuisine, eaten across China and beyond.
A simple, elegant preparation favoured by street vendors throughout southern China. This quick-braising method takes only minutes and produces tender, fragrant prawns. The beauty of this dish lies in its simplicity, fresh ginger and spring onions infuse the delicate sweetness of prawns. Equally delicious served hot immediately or chilled for an exotic picnic dish.
Boneless chicken thighs cube small; marinate for 1 hour in gochujang, gochugaru, soy, garlic, ginger, sugar and sesame oil. Pan-grill in a wide cast-iron skillet over medium-high until the sauce caramelises and the chicken is just cooked. Off heat, generous mozzarella scatters across the top; cover briefly or finish under a grill to melt. Top with sesame seeds and spring onions.
Rib-eye or sirloin sliced paper-thin sits in a marinade of soy, brown sugar, sesame oil, garlic, ginger and grated Asian pear (or apple), then sears hard in a screaming-hot pan or on a BBQ. Served wrapped in lettuce leaves with rice and ssamjang.
This is summer-BBQ adaptation of the lacquered red roast meats that hang in the windows of Cantonese siu mei shops. The marinade borrows from char siu (hoisin, soy, Shaoxing wine, five-spice, fermented bean curd, garlic, ginger) but pulls back on the sugar slightly because chicken does not need as much sweetness as pork shoulder. Bone-in skin-on thighs are the right cut: they stay juicy on the grill, the skin renders down and crisps, and the bones give the meat shape. A two-stage glaze does the rest. The thighs cook over indirect heat first to render the fat and set the meat, then move directly over the coals for the last few minutes while a honey-maltose mixture is brushed on repeatedly. Every brush of glaze caramelises, blackens slightly at the edges, then gets brushed again. The result is sticky-shiny with a smell that is half five-spice, half woodsmoke. Difficulty is low if you control your heat. A two-zone fire (one side coals piled high, the other side empty) is the only real requirement; on a gas grill, two burners on full and one off does the same job. Serve sliced over plain rice with sliced cucumber and a spoon of chilli oil, or stuffed into bao with hoisin and spring onion.
Skirt or flank steak (cuts that take a marinade well and grill fast) sit in a punchy marinade of lime, orange, garlic, jalapeño, cumin, oregano and coriander for 2-4 hours, then grill quick over high heat. Sliced thin against the grain so the long fibres become tender bites.
This dish exemplifies the Chinese penchant for contrasting textures. Tender succulent pieces of chicken are paired with sweet, crunchy cashew nuts and a delicate sauce. While the original Chinese version would have used peanuts (as cashews were not traditionally featured in Chinese cookery), this adaptation showcases how the cuisine evolves while maintaining its core philosophy of textural harmony.
Char siu, literally "fork-roasted" in Cantonese, is the lacquered red barbecue pork that hangs in the windows of siu mei shops across Hong Kong, Guangzhou and any Cantonese diaspora neighbourhood worth knowing. Traditionally long strips of pork are skewered on hooks and lowered into vertical ovens or charcoal pits, where the marinade caramelises into a shimmering, almost brittle crust while the inside stays juicy and pink at the edges. The marinade is a careful balance: hoisin sauce for sweetness and body, light and dark soy for salt and colour, Shaoxing wine for aromatics, five-spice for warmth, fermented red bean curd (nam yu) for the deep umami funk that distinguishes shop-quality char siu from home attempts, and a final glaze of maltose syrup thinned with honey for that characteristic glossy finish. Pork shoulder is the cut of choice because the marbling keeps the meat moist through high-heat roasting; lean cuts like loin go dry and stringy. The classic colour comes from a small amount of red yeast rice or, in modern home recipes, a touch of red food colour, though the dish tastes the same without it. Difficulty is moderate. The marinade needs overnight, and the roasting needs your attention for the final glazing turns under high heat, but the technique itself is straightforward. Serve over rice with greens, in a soft bao bun, or chopped onto wonton noodles.
The dough uses a low-protein cake flour (or plain flour with cornflour added) for the snow-white pillowy crumb. Yeast, sugar, baking powder, milk and lard (or vegetable shortening) blend with the flour into a soft sweet dough. Rises for 1 hour. Filling: store-bought or homemade char siu pork is diced fine; shallots fry in oil; the diced pork tosses in with oyster sauce, hoisin, dark soy, sugar, chicken stock and a cornstarch slurry. Thickens to a sticky glaze. Cooled fully. The dough divides into 12 balls, each rolls into a thick disc with a thin edge, filling sits in the centre, pleats wrap up and pinch at the top. Final proof for 25 min. Steamed for 12 min over high heat, the tops should crack open.
A Caribbean-American fusion that works because both food cultures speak the language of "everything on one tray". The base is American nachos: tortilla chips, melted cheese, black beans. On top sits jerk-marinated chicken thigh, which carries the dish's flavour, allspice, Scotch bonnet, nutmeg, cinnamon, thyme, soy and brown sugar blended into a wet jerk paste, marinated into the meat overnight, then oven-baked and sliced. The fresh element on top is a Trinidadian-style fruit chow: diced mango, pineapple, red bell pepper and red onion dressed with lime juice and cilantro. The chow is what makes this work; without it the nachos are just spicy meat-and-cheese, with it the dish has acid, crunch and sweetness to cut through the richness. Smell is melted cheese hitting jerk seasoning, with a citrus-tropical lift from the chow on top. Not difficult but it's three components running on different timelines, so plan ahead. A modern party-and-Super-Bowl-tray dish rather than something a Kingston grandmother makes, popularised by Caribbean-American food bloggers in the 2010s.
Chicken thighs cube small; marinate for 1 hour in yogurt, ginger-garlic paste, Kashmiri chilli, garam masala and cornflour. Deep-fried in two stages, first to cook through, second to crisp. While the chicken rests, a hot tempering of curry leaves, garlic, dried chillies, soy and vinegar sputters in a wok. The fried chicken tosses through the tempering for 30 seconds and goes straight to the plate.