Right Up to the Edge
Marinating this chicken long enough isn't optional, at least a couple hours, ideally overnight, so the salt and lemongrass actually get into the meat instead of just sitting on the surface. But fish sauce is already salt in liquid form, and it's easy to lose track of how much you're adding once it's in the marinade with everything else. I like pushing seasoning right up to the edge of too much, that's usually where a dish actually gets interesting, but this one tips into oversalted fast if you're not paying attention to what the fish sauce is already doing before you add more kosher salt on top.
Abrasive Until It Isn't
To a western nose, fish sauce reads as a mistake before it reads as anything else. Straight out of the bottle, that first hit is genuinely off-putting if you didn't grow up around it. But cooked into a marinade or whisked into a dressing, it stops being a smell and starts being a foundation, deep, savory, the thing that makes everything else taste more like itself. This recipe uses it three separate times, in the chicken, the slaw dressing, and the creamy sauce, and each one leans on it a little differently.
Worth Firing Up the Grill For
Charcoal isn't required here, but it's the difference between good and the version I actually want to eat. I made this on a Sunday in the middle of summer specifically to chase that deep, smoky char you only get from real fire, standing over the grill longer than the recipe strictly needed, because that's the part of cooking I'm reckless about too. A hot cast iron pan gets you most of the way there if a grill isn't in the cards, browned and caramelized instead of smoky. Still good. Just a different kind of good.
