Like a lot of people who grew up in the suburbs, I have fond memories of my father manning a battered charcoal grill in our Connecticut backyard as my parents' friends downed cans of cold beer and we kids devoured sweet, refreshing watermelon. But instead of the store-bought barbecue sauces and Italian salad dressings used by most grilling gourmands of the 1980s, my Chinese-born father, whom I called Pop, marinated his meats and vegetables in a potent concoction of funky, fishy flavors balanced by the fresh zip of cilantro.
