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“Frying chả giò is like playing roulette. You can hope but are never sure,” my 88-year-old mom recently said. Among the signature foods of Vietnam, the crispy rolls are a celebratory food that’s notoriously difficult to get right. And after many years of trial and error to preserve the flavor of old school chả giò and avoid fussy deep-frying, I’ve arrived at an oven-fried crispy imperial roll recipe that employs well-seasoned shiitake, nori, legumes and glass noodles to produce all the textural pleasures and umami pops with a whole lot less heartbreak.
In Vietnam and abroad, chả giò are on most restaurant menus, part of nosh sessions, made by doting grandmas and moms to spoil their families. Good ones are loaded with contrasts. Their exterior is delicately crisp and their interior contains a filling that’s varied. The filling shouldn’t be solid or dense like a sausage; ideally, you can parse the major components and also appreciate all the synergy of all the ingredients. Whether presented as a starter or a meal, chả giò are snipped into bite-size pieces and eaten as lettuce-and-herb wraps dunked in nước chấm dipping sauce.
Of the different regional names for the rolls—nem rán in the north, chả ram in the central, and chả giò in the south—the last term is the most popular. In English, chả giò are often called “Vietnamese egg rolls,” but they aren’t wrapped in egg roll skins. I refer to chả giò as “imperial rolls,” a nod to pâté impérial, their charming French name. These rolls deserve aristocratic status.
Traditional chả giò are encased in rice paper and deep-fried, a feat of derring-do because the finicky rolls blister and may burst during frying if rolled too tightly or loosely, or if the oil isn’t at an optimal temperature. Many modern Vietnamese cooks have abandoned rice paper to instead use wheat-based spring roll and lumpia wrappers; those wheaty options, used in Chinese and Filipino cuisine, are easier to work with but lack the delicate tang and chew that’s characteristic of rice paper, a Vietnamese staple.
During the fry, the nature of rice paper works against you because rice doesn’t easily crisp and brown like wheat does. Also, rice paper formulations have changed over the years to contain more tapioca than rice in the wrappers. Tapioca doesn’t brown well and can expand and bubble up in hot oil during frying. I’ve tried workarounds like wetting the rice paper with diluted beer and lightly sweetening the water to try to force that extra bit of caramelization. I’ve fried at low, moderate, and high oil temperatures and found that moderately low (325° Fahrenheit) works for single batches, and a double fry is great for big batch cooking. That said, there’s a lot of oil involved and that oil gets dirty very quickly.
I’ve looked to the motherland for clues, resorting to special chả giò rice paper purchased during trips to Vietnam and sourced from hardcore Little Saigon markets. I’ve done deep dives into recipe books published in Vietnam and was gleeful at the sight of a whole chả giò cookbook in Ho Chi Minh City on a visit in 2016. This might sound like a lot of fuss to track down an easy method, but for me, the fun is in the chase.
One day, after my chả giò stars had lined up for a near perfect fry, I filtered the oil and noticed that the rolls hadn’t absorbed much oil during cooking. Around the same time, my brother and some social media followers asked if air-frying the rolls might work. It occurred to me that perhaps it was possible, if I could figure out a way to slightly enrich the rice paper, roll it up around the filling, then blast it with heat to a crisp.
Noodling around the internet, I noted that a handful of cooks in Vietnam and elsewhere were air-frying their rolls to a crunchy crispness. Their unusual method involved brushing seasoned coconut cream on the rice paper to coat it with fat and moisten it just enough so it would seal up. The approach is akin to applying butter to phyllo dough, but in this case, the fat is on both sides of the rice paper to mimic frying. Amazingly, with minimal drama, the rolls made this way cooked up to a remarkable crunchy crispness.
Most cooks do not own air fryers, but at its core, the handy kitchen appliance is just a small, intense convection oven. I experimented with the same technique in my regular oven, baking the rolls on a rack, with the convection setting on and off. The temperature was higher and timing was longer but it ultimately yielded a shattering crispiness (rice paper bits fell off when the finished roll got cut just like with the air-fryer) with the added bonus of having a larger capacity for a bigger batch.
Obviously, oven-fried imperial rolls are leaner than deep-fried ones, but the liberating option makes it easier than ever for home cooks to make a Vietnamese icon. To try this for yourself, get your paws on a package of sturdy rice paper (3 Ladies and Bamboo Tree brands are what I use), and go to town. Rice paper quality varies (even with the same brand) and baking sometimes takes longer to get the rolls properly crispy. The rolls won’t dry out (hooray!) after 30 minutes of cooking, for example. Be patient.
And remember that uncooked rolls freeze beautifully to enable spontaneous snacking and effortless, impressive Viet meals. Let the rolls partially thaw while the oven preheats to 450° Fahrenheit (use 375° Fahrenheit for an air fryer) and cook for two to five minutes longer than for fresh. You can use the time you save on the roulette game of frying to assemble the perfect platter of greens and herbs to go with your crispy rolls.
