The Tangy, Flavor-Packed Grilled Shrimp I’m Making on Repeat This Summer

Given how often I bake, people assume I favor sweet over savory, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I love savory food, and looking back, I realize the dominant flavor that shaped my palate from my childhood in Vietnam to adulthood wasn’t sweetness, but sourness: bright, mouth-puckering, layered sourness. Kumquats and limes, passion fruit, yuzu, and tamarind—these tart ingredients were my flavor playground.

Most of those fruits—kumquat, lime, passion fruit, and yuzu—still grow in my garden here in the US. The only one missing is tamarind. That flavor comes from my memories of Vietnam, where a tamarind tree stood in front of our house. I adored that tree. It provided a cool place to escape the heat, and its brown pods, with their sticky-sweet and tangy pulp, were a constant source of snacks and inspiration. My mom would mash up the brownish pulp with warm water to extract the meat from the seeds and fibers to make everything from dipping sauces to candies, but one dish stood out: grilled tamarind prawns (tôm nướng me).

Tamarind is now an integral part of my cooking arsenal. It adds a complex sourness that’s subtle and rich—less sharp than lime or vinegar—with a gentle fruitiness that enhances heat, balances sweetness, and elevates just about everything it touches. It’s the flavor I return to most, and here, it stars in my tôm nướng me. Tôm translates to prawns/shrimp, nướng means grilled, and me means tamarind.

For her version, my mom mashed fresh tamarind pulp with warm water to extract the juice, then combined it with fish sauce, sugar, garlic, shallots, and pepper to marinate the prawns. She’d grill them over a charcoal brazier, and as soon as they were cool enough, we’d rip off the heads, suck out the savory juices, and crunch into the crackly shells to get to the juicy, tangy, smoky meat underneath.

Choosing and Prepping the Prawns or Shrimp

I call for head-on, shell-on prawns, preferably large tiger prawns, size 8/9 (meaning 8 to 9 per pound). If you can’t find prawns, colossal shell-on shrimp work beautifully too (preferably with their heads, but the recipe will also work with headless shrimp.)

To prepare the prawns, use a sharp knife or kitchen shears to butterfly them along the back—cut about halfway through the meat, leaving the head, shell, and tail intact so the two halves stay connected. Carefully separate the shell from the meat just slightly. This step helps the marinade seep into all the nooks and crevices, infusing the prawns with flavor while they rest.

Keeping the heads and shells on isn’t just for looks—the shells act like insulation, protecting the delicate meat from direct grill heat, helping them retain moisture and preventing the shellfish from drying out. The heads, meanwhile, are packed with flavor and fat, adding richness as they grill and flavoring the marinade during soaking.

To keep the meat extra-plump and tender, I borrow a technique from Kenji’s grilled shrimp recipe and give the prawns a quick soak in ice water with salt and baking soda before marinating. This firms them up and helps preserve that juicy snap when you bite in.

Once soaked and patted dry, the prawns get tossed in the tamarind marinade and left to rest in the fridge for about four hours, flipped halfway through to ensure even coating. The acidic marinade gently tenderizes the prawns, so even if you leave them on the grill a touch too long (which, let’s be honest, happens to all of us), they’ll still turn out pleasantly tender and flavorful.

The Sweet, Tart, and Tangy Dipping Sauce

While the prawns marinate, I prepare a simple tamarind dipping sauce with fish sauce, sugar, garlic, and a bird’s-eye chile. It’s just spicy enough to keep you coming back for another bite. You can turn up the heat with more chilies if that’s your style. Simmer the mixture gently until thickened, then let it cool to room temperature while you grill the shrimp, and you’re good to go.

Grilling and Serving the Prawns

When ready to grill, shake off the excess marinade before cooking the prawns over direct heat for just a few minutes per side. The shells will become crackly and fragrant, and the meat will turn opaque and tender. Don’t overdo it—shrimp and prawns are famously easy to overcook. Pile the succulent, smoky, sweet shellfish onto a platter, dip them generously into the tangy, spicy sauce, and eat them while they’re still warm.

For me, this dish is more than delicious—it’s an edible memory, a snapshot of sticky summer nights, the hiss of a charcoal grill, and the zing of tamarind on my tongue.

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