Up until a couple years back, I was a staunch red meat avoider. Not because I was a vegetarian or had moral qualms over its consumption, but rather as a matter of taste. Steak, burgers, meatballs, and the whole lot of much-beloved American classics held no sway over my palate, until one simple but revelatory bite changed it all. No, it wasn't a dry-aged steak or juicy Shake Shack burger that changed my mind — though I'm now irretrievably enamored with both — but rather, a bite of tender, succulent, braised short ribs.
Little by little I came to crave these tender, boldly flavored bites, soon embracing carpaccio, tartare, roasted bone marrow, and even grilled beef tongue. But it's still tender, falling-off-the-bone short ribs that get me every time. So when I came across this beer and hoisin braised stunner of a recipe, I knew I'd have to simmer up a batch posthaste, as it would inevitably enter my meal rotation. Thankfully, I was right on this account and then some. Slightly sweet, tangy, and full of deeply meaty flavor, they're so lovely that I'd wager they'd have made a red meat convert of me far earlier had I only tried them years back.
Have you met bok choy? If not, get yourself to the nearest supermarket posthaste, and snap up a bundle. Slightly sweet and grassy in flavor, the 
While there are many reasons to love this weeknight-friendly side — it's affordable, easy, quick as all get out, and, most importantly, delicious — what I love most is how such simple ingredients translate into a dish far more exciting than one would assume on the outset. Little more goes into this loose recipe of sorts than the vegetable at hand, oyster sauce (a magical ingredient if there ever was one), sriracha, soy sauce, and sesame seeds, but a quick turn in a screaming-hot cast-iron takes it to the next level by imparting an essence similar to wok hei, a wok-imbued flavor prized in Chinese cuisine. 
What are you waiting for? 
Last month we set out to find which 
This weeknight- and wallet-friendly dish has a simple yet powerful, tongue-tantalizing sauce. And while it's typically served as part of a large 
While li hing mui (and not li kung hi, as I've embarrassingly and incorrectly called it for weeks) may be foreign to most American palates, it's as popular in Hawaii as dried chiles are in Mexico. Hawaiians sprinkle the sour, plum-based powder, pronounced lee-hing-moo-ee, on just about any snack food: dried mangos, gummy bears, and even dried squid. And, despite it typically turning up on convenience-store treats, it even has a place in fine dining. Contributing editor 
With all the attention pork belly, cupcakes, and tacos get these days, one would think there'd be a spotlight given to sauce — an essential part of cooking anywhere around the world. Today marks the beginning of National Sauce Month, and during this time, we fully intend to give sauces of all kinds, from 
Fried chicken wings are an international phenomenon, and while we Americans perhaps can lay claim to wings as a central component of our national cuisine, more countries than you'd imagine are churning out crisp-fried poultry goodness and adding their own local flair. At izakayas (casual drinking establishments), Japan's working weary relax over sake, cold beer, and comforting late night nibbles, including sashimi, edamame, and yakitori (grilled chicken). More recently, they have added fried chicken wings to the mix, dressing them in light but delectable sauces made from Japanese kitchen staples.
This recipe blends soy sauce, sake, mirin (sweet cooking wine), garlic, and ginger with a splash of tangy vinegar to finish. Just before serving, sprinkle on some sesame seeds and — if you can find it — a blend of Japanese spices containing tingly sansho pepper, ground red pepper flakes, and dried orange peel. It pairs just as nicely with Sapporo as it does with an all-American ice-cold Bud. 
Although I'm not Vietnamese, I grew up eating at plenty of the Vietnamese restaurants that surrounded my Houston neighborhood. But more than 20 years later, I have a confession: even for me, those menus — with their complicated spellings and manifold accent marks — can be pretty darn confusing! 