February: Bò Kho

Cooking Playlist: "A Seat at the Table" on repeat

What does bò (beef) mean to me?

I have a complicated relationship with beef.

I LOVE beef. Or more so, I LOVED beef growing up. The go-to dish that I eventually learned to master in high school was stir-fried beef with oyster sauce; this was an upgrade from spaghetti with tomato sauce and canned tuna, and white rice with SPAM and soy sauce. (#refugeecuisine) 

When I was nine years old, my mother began transitioning into a working-parent role; she would prep meals for me, my sister, and my father to enjoy. As I grew older, she made it a point to teach me how to cook for myself when I came home from high school. So after long days of tennis practice, I would either take out my mother’s pre-marinated beef to stir fry it, or prepare the meat on my own:  cut the London Broil steak into three-millimeter slices and then massage oyster sauce, sliced onions, and black pepper into the beef in a larger bowl. After 30 minutes, I would heat up a skillet, drizzle it with olive oil, watch the oil slowly spread thinly across the skillet as I tipped the skillet side-to-side, then pour and stir the sizzling beef. Within a matter of minutes, I would scoop the beef onto some hot white rice (which was always available in the house), and then shovel the meal into my mouth. 

However, one Lenten season, I decided that I should sacrifice my beloved beef for 40 days. I cannot remember what prompted this -- other than my desire to fit in socially with all my Filipino Catholic friends who were also giving up something -- but I knew that I was typically successful with giving up prized products long-term. In 2001, I gave up soda, and I still don’t really drink soda. In 2002, I gave up chocolate, and (That venture wasn’t quite successful.) Then, in 2003, I gave up beef… and eventually, I realized that my adult body cannot process beef as well as it used to. Hence, our complicated relationship. I love the smell of a freshly-grilled steak, Korean-BBQed short-ribs, beef phở (as I mentioned in previous posts); however, when I think about indulging, I typically think about the stomach pains that typically follow. What a successful Pavlovian effect.

Why bò kho?

Making bò kho, or Vietnamese beef stew, will be my attempt to 1) serve my carnivorous friends a dish worthy of their attention, and 2) test my red-meat tolerance by eating only small servings of beef -- with a focus on the stew and the baguette that it will be served with. 

How did I make bò kho?

Linked is a Google Document with my mother’s recipe. I have annotated it with context that may be important to consider if you plan to take on this endeavor as well. 

I prepped the beef and the vegetables two days before cooking it -- merely due to my own scheduling restrictions -- and I cooked the stew the morning that I served it.

Here are the ingredients I used to prep the beef.

 De-skinned tomatoes, waiting to be de-seeded.

Who tried my bò kho?

A decade ago, I met two individuals who eventually became my best friends. 

I met Ken first through South Bay First Thursdays (SBFT), an organization led by young Asian-American professionals committed to raising awareness around social issues impacting our community. (This is the group that Danielle -- from “January: Phở Gà (Part 1)” -- introduced me to.)  We scheduled to get dinner once, but our friendship almost died that night; I spent most of our time together with my eyes glued to the TV at the bar while Ken attempted to introduce different conversational topics to lure me back into reality. Being the honest person he was/is, he called me out on my mental absence, and I futilely justified my behavior by stating I had no access to a TV at home, and I missed watching “Friends” reruns. It probably goes without saying: Ken and I didn’t schedule another hangout immediately after. However, we hung out in the same social circles due to our involvement in SBFT. 

Around that time, I was a new teacher who had just moved to the South Bay. I attempted to fill the time that I originally dedicated to college and friends with professional responsibilities; I often left work between 8-9pm every night.  Thus, after discovering SBFT, I became more determined to develop my social network in the South Bay; I attended almost any social outing I was invited to, in hopes of meeting people who could keep me personally grounded. 

On one serendipitous night, at a fundraising event called “Sake San Jose,” Ken and I met Robert and Michael, friends of another SBFT organizer. We all got along fine initially, but a specific reference to 90’s hip-hop bound us. At one point in the evening, my phone played the ringtone of my favorite tune from A Tribe Called Quest. Michael turned back and inquired curiously, “Is that ‘Electric Relaxation?’” That moment sealed the deal in our group’s friendship. Robert, Ken, Michael, and I ended up talking about everything and anything under the sun, and our conversation continued through the night. 

Robert, Ken, and I met up for dinner a week after Sake San Jose. Our time together was filled with the attributes that I realize personify all of our conversations now: laughter, venting, storytelling, and philosophical quandaries (-- some of which you might experience in our “podcast” below). We came together so organically that I knew that this was the crew for me, and they still are to this day. 

Robert and I pictured with our choice supplements to bò kho, while Ken is too cool for condiments.

How was it?

I was honestly a bit disappointed the first round I had my bò kho. It looked very different from the bò kho I have seen my mother make, or the bò kho I saw in Vietnam; my mismeasurement of cornstarch gave the soup a cloudier appearance than anticipated. It was also hard to stomach so much beef in the morning; I stopped eating my stew halfway through and gave Robert the rest of my beef. 

The bò kho I made for Andrew + BooTrinity

However, I felt comforted that Ken and Robert went for seconds. I also regained hope in revising the dish when my mom texted me the following:

Thus, this evening, I decided to salvage the dish. I threw the leftovers into a pot and added the following ingredients:

• 0.5 liter of coconut water

• a bag of organic and colorful baby carrots from Trader Joe’s

• a bag of Crimini mushrooms from Trader Joe’s

• 3 tablespoons of (reduced sodium) soy sauce

• 3 teaspoons of sea salt

• ½ teaspoon of the five-aroma spice

• 1 heaping tablespoon of the red chili powder

Bò Kho Version 2.0

As a result, the dish was 1) much more to my liking, and 2) way friendlier to my stomach. I guess soupy/stewy dishes are way more forgiving, given that there is a way to reuse the previous ingredients in the new product.

To experience 26 minutes of witty commentary, reflections of our culture’s cuisine, and ASMR, check out our “podcast,” recorded as we were eating the first iteration of bò kho.

Next month, I will be flying home to make cá chiên and nước mắm (whole fried fish and fish sauce) with my sister and my mom -- just in time for my mom’s birthday and the L.A. Marathon that my sister will be running.