Can you see it now? A headline on Style.com, no? Well, never you mind, perhaps it's just me who thinks this guy perfectly accessorised. But then again my idea of a perfect Christmas present is three pounds of bacon from the Grateful Palate catalog.
I found him peddling little bags of deep fried pork crackling as I wandered the Ta Prachan market in Bangkok with Austin.
When I was a little girl in Thailand, my favorite street snack, Kanom Krok, were sold not in a Styrofoam or even paper box, but in a little boat made of Bai Tong, banana leaf. (You cut a rectangular piece from a large banana leaf, fold two corners on one side over each other and nip them together with a tiny sharpened wooden stick. Do the same on the other end and you get a cute little boat.) Back then, so many desserts and even savory dishes were served in packets and containers made of everything from lotus leaf, banana leaf, or even the long, thin pandan leafs woven into a basket.
Those were the original green packaging, local and sustainable. Then plastic became less expensive, and the even cheaper Styrofoam arrived. The opportunity to pollute the environment was equalized for all. These days when I go home, I find less and less of the wonderful natural packages. And when I see them, I can't help but snap a photo or two, keep sakes of time gone by.
The first photo on top of this post is a packet made from folding the two ends of an oval piece of banana leaf, fastened with a thin strip of the same material, and secured with a sharpened stick. Hoe Bai Tong, as we call it in Thai, is used for a variety of steamed food, savory and sweet.
Another snapshot of a Thai dessert from my trip to Bangkok a couple weeks ago. These little colorful bits are called Look Shoop, which is roughly translated as 'dipped balls'. No, I didn't make that up. I swear.
Presumably the name came from the process of making the desssert. The little balls (look in Thai) made of sweetened yellow mung bean paste are formed into miniature fruits, painted bright colors, and then dipped in agar-agar (dipping = shoop in Thai) to make them shiny like in the photo.
Doesn't this remind you of marzipan in the european dessert repertoir? I wouldn't be surprised if this is yet another example of the Portuguese influence in Thai dessert making, which I spoke of before but got the century off by one or two. (Thanks Austin for correcting me.)
Unlike the other desserts I've rhapsodized about earlier, this Look Shoop stuff I am not so keen on. They are pretty to look at, just like marzipan, but don't exactly taste like much by themselves, you know, sort of like marzipan.
tag(s):food|Thai dessert|Colonialism|Portugal
When the Portuguese arrived in what was then the Kingdom of Ayudhya (the predecessor to the Kingdom of Siam, which is Thailand now) in the early 1800's, they brought with them many culinary techniques that would remain until today in Thai cuisine. Perhaps the strongest influence was in dessert making, where Foy Thong, Thong Yip, Thong Yod, and other desserts made with egg yolks cured or cooked in syrup remain in the forms recognizable even in today's traditional desserts in Portugal and some parts of Spain.
The Portuguese also left a primitive form of oven baking with the Thai, as seen in this particular dessert in the photo above. It's called Kanom Kai (Kanom means, simply, desserts, in Thai, and Kai means eggs). It's made of egg and sugar, beaten together into a cake-like batter, then baked in a cast iron pan with ridges (like the back side of a Madeleine). The pan is heated over a charcoal fire, with more smoldering charcoals filling the lid of the pan, providing heat from bottom and above.
tag(s):food|Thai dessert|Colonialism|Portugal
I am a Bangkok driver. I no longer flinch when I see a motorcycle come barging at me when he is supposed to be in the opposing lane. I'm far bigger than he is. It's his job to get out of my way. I no longer miss my turn just because I cannot find my way into the proper lane. It's all a game of chicken, and my losing days are behind me.
I am once again a Bangkok driver; the rules of the game have all come back to me. Turn signal is a sign of weakness. One must not show signs of weakness. Determining the right of way is simply a matter of will. Whoever wants it more gets it. And I want it more. Even traffic lights have different meanings. Yellow light is a sign to hurry up, not to slow down. Red light is merely a suggestion.
And, perhaps most important of all, there is no breaking traffic law. Not until you get caught. But then again, there's always the phone number of your uncle the police general in your mobile.
The only problem about all this is, I am now back in California. I guess I'd better be taking the bus for a while. Heh.
tag(s):Bangkok|Bangkok traffic
And not only eyes, but nasty little claws as well. These little crabbies are Pu Na Kem, rice field crabs, so called because of their natural habitat, the swamp-like rice fields of central Thailand. They are pickled raw, and used in the famous Som Tum and various Yum salads. There is even a coconut relish made with these salty crabs. They are not the most healthful of ingredients, if truth be told. These Pu Kem have got all sorts of parasites and germs they can transmit if eaten raw, which is how they are most usually served. It doesn't seem to stop to many people in Thailand though.
It's been said that one could buy pretty much everything on the streets of Bangkok. I suppose I have a proof. I found a book called "Story of My Life" by someone who called herself Marie, Queen of Romania, in French, no less. The book was neatly laid out on a paper mat, next to the Illustrated History of French Literature, and amidst other odds and ends that proved more than a little odd and quite near the end of their respective lifespans.
Another ubiquitous street food in Bangkok, Gluay Ping, grilled banana in palm sugar syrup. The banana used for this is called Gluay Nahm-wa, which is shorter and fatter than the regular banana you see in your supermarket. It's also common to use slightly unripe Nahm-wa bananas for this, as the ripe ones tend to fall apart after grilling. The grilled bananas are sometimes flatten slightly, and doused in a syrup made by simmering palm sugar, water, and salt.
When I was little, I loved Gluay Ping made of greener bananas than usual. Green bananas develop a taut skin that's almost caramelized on the charcoal grill. Biting into one, the almost crisp skin gave way to a melting soft and sweet interior that's enhanced by the salty and sweet syrup. Simply delicious.
This is a product of a random wandering around Yaowaraj the other day. Bangkok's old Chinatown is even more bustling than usual, thanks to the impending new year celebration this weekend. I took a bunch of photos, they'll all be flickring once I get to a faster internet connection, which might be San Francisco!
This shot is from a window display at a Chinese herbalist. Yes, those little guys are precisely what you think they are. Dried sea horses. I have no idea what they are used for, some obscure Chinese remedy, probably.
(Clockwise from bottom)
Kanom Tua-pab, tender rice
flour dough enveloping a mixture of mung bean, coconut, amd sesame
seeds, and covered in coconut flakes. They are eaten tossed with
sugar, crushed sesame seeds, and salt.
Kanom Tom, the same rice flour dough but this time stuffed with coconut
flakes cooked in a caramel made of palm sugar.
Kanom Niaw, the same dough again, but rolled into a little worm
shape, eaten with palm sugar caramel syrup with sesame seeds.
The blue
hue in these desserts came from Dok Anshan, a type of blue flower that
I don't know the name in English. The ashy-gray hue came from, what
else, ash.
Thai sweets, unlike our savory dishes, could be something of an acquired taste. The sour, sweet, salty, bitter and spicy balance of Thai savory dishes are easily appreciated, but somehow, the odd textures and shapes of Thai desserts can be off-putting to many. Not helping the matter is the fact that it has become increasingly difficult to find great Thai desserts, even in Thailand. Thai dessert making requires intricate skills, and depends a great deal on the quality and freshness of ingredients, coconut milk and meat, palm sugar, rice flour and other essentials. While fresh ingredients is expensive and the process of dessert making can be arduous, Thai traditional desserts can't really be sold for a lot of money, unlike fancy Western style desserts, so only a few vendors even bother to make them, or make them properly as they are often forced to use canned coconut milk and artificial colors to cut cost.
The other day I had a craving my favorite curries, Gang Kiew-wan Pla Grai, green curry with fish dumplings. So I had some made for me. Pla Grai is a type of fresh water fish known for its sweet flesh which has a particularly toothsome quality when made into dumplings. It is traditionally used in green curry with Krachai or wild ginger. I had a lot fun watching Pa Sai, our wonderful cook, made this dish so I took a lot of photos. Here is a little photo essay of the making of Gang Kiew-wan Pla Grai.
Continue reading "Green curry with fish dumplings, Gang Kiew-wan Pla Grai" »
Here by popular demand, the dimpled pans specifically for making Kanom Krok. Also, for your amusement…
No they are not wiggly worms. Not even the green ones. They are wiggly little dessert 'noodles' called Lod-chong. Lod-chong is made by passing the soft dough made of flour, water, and Pandan juice (which gives the noodles the green color) through a special instrument that's like a spatula full of little holes placed on top of a pot of boiling water. The long stream of dough is cut off with a knife every couple of inches, creating little worm looking pieces rather than long pieces of noodles. These little green worms are served in a bowl with sweetened coconut milk and plenty of ice. Trust me, they taste better than they look (and sound). Back in the old days the coconut milk used to be sweetened with a simple syrup that has been infused with fresh jasmine flowers. In that case, they tasted, and smelled, better than they looked (and sound.) Frankly, these days, I'm happy just to find Lod-Chong that are actually made with Pandan leaf and not artificial green color. Jasmine or no jasmine.
These innocent looking little bits. They shall be the ruin of me. What are they? They are called Kanom Krok. They are the most delicious little morsels, made of coconut milk, sugar, and just a little salt. As simple as that, and as delicious as anything. Evil. You see. It's pure evil. I have been eating them by the box full, every time I made it anywhere within the one mile radius of where they're sold. And that's a lot, you see, because these things are sold at the Emporium food hall, on Sukhumvit road. My parents's house is also on Sukhumvit, you see, and every time I go anywhere I would have to pass it front of it. I've had four boxes, so far, in two days. At this rate, with all the coconut milk and the sugar, I'd probably double my weight in not too many days.
Kanom Krok is a ubiquitous street food in Thailand. They are made in a cast iron or terra cotta pan with dimples. The mixture of coconut milk, sugar, and salt is poured into each dimple, and the finished Kanom Krok scooped out with a spoon. Kanom Krok is crispy on the outside and oozing soft in the middle. Just delicious. How many times have I said delicious? Oh dear. I. Need. Help.
Here I am, in Bangkok again. I looked back at the post I wrote on the blog when I cam home last time, and found that my sentiments are still exactly the same.
It has been two days now in Bangkok. On one hand it felt like a blink of an eye, but on the other it appeared as though it has been forever since I returned. Thailand always evokes such contradicting reactions in me.
I had forgotten how busy Bangkok was. The traffic here is unbelievable. Nearly half my waking hours have been spent in the car, sitting in traffic. It was good that I didn't have to drive. I have long ago lost my ability to navigate Bangkok traffic, not to mention the changing landscape of the city.
Bangkok is heavy on one's senses. Mine is almost overloaded. I feel increasingly as though I am an autistic child in need of a shut down. The streets are clogged with vehicles, the sidewalks full of people, the buildings close together. There are just too many bloody people in this city. And I haven't even started on the noise yet. Close you eyes and imagine a room full of kids practicing on the drums and other extremely loud musical instruments. The noise of Bangkok is worse than that scene you've just conjured up in your head, at all hours.
I've finally found the time to publish the photos I took while eating, cooking and otherwise partying in bangkok a few weeks ago.
I must admit, though, that I am indeed a crappy photographer, and a bad photo journalist on top of that. I was always a bit shy about pulling out my camera to take pictures of things, and I was, occasionally, far too interested in what was going on in real time than to ever worry about capturing them in my camera.
Oh well, I think you'll find these photos enjoyable anyway. And do let me know what you think of them.
P.S. Someone (who shall remain nameless) found himself a bit loss in the Blogosphere and emailed to ask where he could find my Bangkok Report blogs. Here they are, so you won't have to go dive into my archives.
First news update from Bangkok
Bangkok Report II: a Buddhist Christmas
Bangkok Report III: Mosquito food!
Bangkok Report IV, part 1: begging for food
Bangkok Report IV, part 2: Sanitized street food!?
Bangkok Report V: Yummy Gang Som and icky hotel food
Bangkok Report VI: Cooking with Aunt Chawiwan
Bangkok Report VII: shopping for good karma
On my way home
Best Overall Food Experience: The day trip to Paris from London with Martin, beginning with Robuchon, then for patisserie from Hermé, on to procuring Castleton été at Mariage, and finishing the afternoon with chocolates from Hévin.
Best Food Shopping Moment: Flash-mobbing Borough with the OA crowd.
Most Fun Cooking: In Bangkok with my Aunt Chawiwan. The Thai feast for 16 hungry londoners with Max, Simon, and Vanessa.
Best "I didn't know it could taste like that" dishes: Roasted Woodcock (brain, innards, and all but the feathers) at St.John
Best Restaurant Meal: St.John
Best Overall Restaurant Experience: L'Arpège, malgrès les betteraves.
Best Service: L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon, on the third consecutive lunch in August, and Kiss, by Naga-san, as always.
Most Fantastic Discovery: The New Tayyab, The Sutton Arms (now closed, dammit!), St.John
Best homey dessert: Rosie's crumble and custard at the Christmas Party at the Sutton Arms
Best fancy dessert: Ispahan from Pierre Hermé
Worst fancy dessert: Ispahan at Ladurée
Most Bizarre Meal: 66
Most Blah Meal: 66
Most Disappointing Meal: Nahm
Worst Meal: Nahm
--------------
Best Compliments:
"Best Overall Food Experience of 2003: Pim's Thai Banquet (by some stretch)", Tony Finch
"When you find the time, will you marry me?", Maurice Naughton
I had such a wonderfully delicious day. I have a plan to learn how to make more Thai dishes on this trip. I especially wanted to learn more complicated Thai dishes that I couldn't get in America.
Today is the first day of my lesson. I spent the entire day in the kitchen with my eldest aunt, Chawiwan. It was the best day I've had in a long time.
I arrived early in the morning, in time for a market trip, where we bought the ingredients needed for the dish we planned to make today. I hadn't been to a wet market for a long time. The sights and sounds were amazing. There were live chicken, live fish, frogs, birds, etc. You name it. There were also isles and isles of fresh vegetables and herbs, some that I'd completely forgotten about until then.
The trip to the market with Aunt Chawiwan was so much fun. Everything I pointed at came with a story. She would never just tell you the name of something, but also what it was good for, not good for, and perhaps even a story of why it came to have the name.
She was quite pleasantly bemused by my desire to learn how to make everything. No one else in my family, despite living in Thailand and having access to all these wonderful things, had shown any interest in learning how to make these complicated, obscure and old fashioned Thai dishes. To them, they were simply old fashioned, they are far more interested in Japanese food, Western food, or, gasp, Thai fusion cuisine. I have long since learned that I could never trust my sisters or brother's recommendation on Thai restaurants. Places they like tend to cook “creative” Thai food, which to me simply means predominantly sweet dishes or things that only borrowed the names of classic dishes while resembling as little of them as they possibly could get away with.
Don't get me wrong, I am not completely against the idea of evolution or experimentation in any cuisine. But the impression I get from these “fusion” cuisine places in Bangkok is that they do it just for the sake of being different and fashionable, rather than for the taste or for serious experimentation with techniques or ingredients. I mean, anyone can simply throw foie gras into some spicy Thai sauce and call it innovation. I call it crap.
I really do think that living far away from my home and culture has given me a new appreciation of many things Thai. I relish spending time with old relatives, learning more about my culture and my heritage. I may not have chosen to live here, but there are wonderful things from here that I would like to keep with me wherever I may go.
It would really be sad to loose the legacy of my grandmother and the ancestors before her. My aunt Chawiwan and other old relatives and cooks are walking encyclopedia of Thai cooking. They work much more efficiently than a 64 bit computer, trust me. Name a dish, any dish, and they most likely would be able to tell you exactly how to make it. They keep no written recipes, only in the little grey cells in their heads. When they are gone, this heritage will be gone as well. My younger sister would fly to San Francisco or London to take cooking classes, and in fact had done so more than once, but she never drove across town to my Aunt's house to learn how to cook Thai food. What a shame!
Today we made three kinds of curry. Nam-ya, Nam-prik, and Gang Kiew-wan. The first two are curries specifically to be eaten with a type of noodle made of fermented dough, Kanom Jeen.
The Nam-prik for Kanom Jeen noodles shares the same name as Nam-prik relishes, but they cannot be more different. The Nam-prik relish is a type of dip, or relish, made primarily of shrimp paste, garlic, and shallots, seasoned with lime juice, chillies, and fish sauce.
Nam-prik for Kanom Jeen is a type of curry, made of yellow beans, peanuts, coconuts, coconut milk, minced shrimps, and seasoned with tamarind, chillies, fish sauce. The taste is wonderfully complex, sour, sweet, spicy, nutty, and creamy. The Nam-prik curry is served with Kanom Jeen, accompanied by batter-fried leaves and herbs, boiled vegetables, steamed eggs, and fried chillies.
Kanom Jeen Nam-prik is a very old-fashioned upper class Thai dish that is so difficult to find these days, even in Thailand. I'd been craving it for years in America, and was delighted to finally learn how to make it. The making of the Nam-prik involved five pots and countless bowls and plates for the various ingredients required. I'd never been so thankful for servants!
Nam-ya is another type of curry that is traditionally served with Kanom Jeen. It is a curry of minced fish and wild ginger. It is wonderfully complex, aromatic, and sinus-clearing spicy. It is served with Kanom Jeen instead of rice, accompanied by pickled lettuce, bean sprouts, blanched bitter lemon, blanched long beans, and steamed eggs,
The last dish we made was green curry with chicken and apple aubergine “Gang Kiew-wan Gai”. I actually already knew how to make this one, but my mother had requested that we make a pot for her, so we did. Aunt Chawiwan pretty much let me make it, to see if I'd really mastered the dish. I am more than happy to report that she was quite impressed with my curry. It made me so happy I still haven't stopped smiling yet, and it's been hours since.
On the way back home, I saw a road side stall making Kanom-Jaak. An old Thai dessert made of the fruit of a type of water palm, Jaak, mixed into some flour, coconut milk and stuffed into Jaak leaves and grilled on charcoal. The resulting product is a texture of a sticky cake, sweet, and smells of the palm tree (a good thing, for this type of palm, really) and the charcoal. I stopped the car and ran out to get a armload, munching on them all the way home.
Today is another slow day.
I began the day with a simple lunch at home, of rice and Gang Som (sour coconut-free curry with shrimps). There were also some deep fried Pla Salid (salted fish), which was a traditional side to the Gang Som.
Gang Som, for some reason, is not as well known as it should be. It is a complex and wonderful soup whose predominant tastes are sour and spicy. A paste for Gang Som is not that different from a normal red curry paste, except that Gang Som paste is made only of yellow colored chillies, and that it has some fresh cooked shrimp meat pounded into it as well. The paste is then mixed into some shrimp or fish stock, a variety of vegetables, and more shrimps or fish. Tamarind gives the soup the appropriate sourness. It is actually a great diet food, as it contains a lot of vegetables and almost no fat.
Then I was off to get my nails done and to get a neck massage. The massage was absolutely fabulous, for 150 baht, less than $5!
At dinner, we were supposed to go meet some more family members at the Grand Hyatt Erawan hotel for dinner. Apparently they had all agreed to go to a Japanese restaurant at the hotel. I threw a hissy-fit, and the venue was changed to the Thai place in the same hotel instead.
Though I thought the choice a bit dubious, I much preferred it to the Japanese restaurant. Unfortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong. The restaurant, Ruen Phae, was more than mediocre. The food was horrible, the service marginal, and the price tag exorbitant. We were served oddly sweet Thai food with questionable freshness.
The best thing I ate for the night was a dessert of Bua Loy, little sticky dough balls made of taro and yam pastes cooked to a tapioca-like stickiness, and served floating in a soup of sweet and ever so slightly salty soup. It was bought at my insistance from a street side stall near the Klong Toey Intersection. I had two bowls worth, and went to bed with a full tummy, again.
I accompanied my parents to a birthday party of a friend of the family at the club.
The club, or as we called it, Sports Club, is Royal Bangkok Sports Club. It was founded over a hundred years ago by King Rama V, who endowed it with a large plot of land in what is now the center of the shopping district in Bangkok. The club also owns and operates a race track on Sundays, bringing in huge revenue.
Membership of the club is hereditary, so my siblings and I are entitled to becoming a member here, as will the generations after us. New members are accepted, though very rarely. It is considered the most exclusive in Bangkok, since even money couldn't buy one's way into it.
In fact, being a member of the club is such a big deal that my mother and I had a big row over it a few months ago. I came to the US before I was 21, which would have been when I was entitled to become a member, therefore I had to postpone my membership for a few years. A few months ago, the club informed us that it was time that I either became a member or I shall loose the place that they had kept for me.
Taking up my place would have cost a good chunk of money for the initiation fee. I had no intention of paying it, as I don't plan to go back there, nor would I let my mother pay. I told her she could give ME the check, I was sure I could come up with some ways to use up the amount, without much trouble.
Apparently, despite the fact that I had been telling her repeatedly of my intention to the contrary, Mother was still under the illusion that I would at some point come home. It took the rejection of my “rightful” place at the club that she was finally forced into facing the fact that I would not be coming home after all. Needless to say the irony was entirely lost on her.
Entering the club, one feels as though one has been transported to old colonial days. A security guard opens the car door, letting you into the long open lobby, looking over huge green lawns and plush greeneries, where people are lounging about on wicker chairs, drinking from tall, sweaty glasses of iced tea while munching on dainty sandwiches and gossiping in hushed tones, with uniformed waiters hovering about. There is a perfectly manicured lawn for Lawn Bowling, a large Olympic size swimming pool, squash courts, tennis courts, a small golf course, a cricket court, a football and rugby field, and riding tracks. There are uniformed custodians at every corner waiting to assist you in whatever they could. There are tennis-ball boys standing in attendants at the four corners of a tennis court to chase after the balls for you.
Going into the club is like visiting a relative's house. Tonight was my first time since I came home on this trip, I put my hands together in a wai as soon as I got out of the car and saw someone my parent's age that I knew. He wasn't the only one though, so my hands stayed in the wai position for the whole walk along the lobby lounge area, with my head bowing down to touch the tips of my fingers every time I saw someone I knew. There must have been at least twenty of them. I felt like a Thai Airways stewardess greeting each passenger on a 747.
Life is indeed slow and genteel here. Most members have been coming here all their lives, and the staff stays on for a very long time. When I was growing up, the club was always a safe place that we could be left for a whole day to roam around and play anything we liked.
Just over on the other side of the wall is a tenement block of subsidized housing, just a step above the slums. In fact going to one of the club facilities, one has to drive through a small soi (side street) crowded with these housing estates and tiny shops.
The difference is horrifying. But it is also such a fact of life here that hardly anyone notices or raises an eyebrow, least of all anyone who belongs to the club.
Thailand can be so heartbreakingly beautiful sometimes, but other times, she is simply heartbreaking.
-------
Back inside the club, everything was as it used to be. The party was held in one of the private rooms, which was turned into a miniature street hawker market for the night.
A number of famous street food vendors have been brought in from all over Bangkok. It was the upper class's idea of slumming! Each vendor brought their whole setup, including stoves, signs, cooking utensils, dinner wares for an added sense of authenticity albeit a heavily sanitized version. Stalls were set up to one side of the room which opened to a long balcony so the fume from all the cooking wouldn't affect the members.
On offer were Hoy Tod (fried pancakes of mussels, eggs, green onions, and bean sprouts), Kanom Pak-kad (little squares of turnip cakes stir fried with eggs, green onions, and bean sprouts), Gra-poh Pla (fish maw soup), Kway-teo Kua Gai (stir fried flat noodles with dried squids, chicken, pickled turnips, and other vegetables), Kow-mun Gai (Hunanese chicken rice), Nuea Satay (beef satays), some fresh fruits and a huge birthday cake.
The setup was just like a real market, minus the sidewalk, the trash, the stray dogs, and the glasses of iced water of questionable provenance (hence the fun, really). We went up to the stalls and ordered what we wanted. The food was cooked to order, then we took them back to the waiting tables to eat. Everything was great, I even got my hands dirty by stir frying a few things myself. I literally had one order of everything! I was more than stuffed at the end of the party, conveniently, I hadn't planned on having any cake anyway.
December 27, 2003
Today was somewhat slow. I woke up late, spent far too much time on the web, and didn't manage to get out of the house until after 12.
Lunch was taken at a restaurant near my house. The place is called Klang Soi, right next to Smitivej Hospital, deep inside the labyrinth that comprises the small streets of the Sukhumvit area. The restaurant used to be one of my favorites. They serve simple, home style food, but very well done and presented.
Unfortunately the restaurant has gone quite a way down hill since I'd been gone. We ordered a few dishes, and they were all mediocre. I'm not even going to bother tell you what we ate. I was starving, but I was so disappointed I couldn't eat anything.
Our next stop was at the house of some relatives, to say hello and drop off some new year presents before they go away for the holidays.
The old cook, who has known me since I was a little baby, came hustling out of the kitchen when she heard that I came home from the US. She was happy to see me, but I made her even happier by telling her I was starving. She told me to wait in the dining room and she would see what they had in the kitchen that I could eat, but I insisted on following her there to see for myself.
I love the kitchens of old houses. Such a kitchen is usually open-air, and in the back of the house as the fume and smell from Thai cooking could be nearly fatal. This particular kitchen was a good size, with stoves and huge mortars and pestles, and giant cleaves stuck on wooden butcher's blocks.
The preparation for dinner hadn't quite started yet, so all they had were leftovers from lunch. There were some rice, a bowlful of stew of five-spiced duck eggs and pork (Moo Pahlo), and some Pla-dook foo, crispy fried catfish. The catfish was an accompaniment to a relish, which unfortunately had been finished earlier.
I was ready to settle on just some rice and stewed eggs and pork and some crispy fish, but the cook insisted that I waited a bit so she could fix up something quick to accompany the fish.
She decided on Sreng Wah, a spicy salad of shrimps, ginger, shallots, chillies, julienned lime leaves, lemongrass, and charcoal grilled shrimps. The dressing is made of tamarind, palm sugar, and some fish sauce. Sreng Wah is traditionally served with Pla-dook foo and plenty of fresh vegetable garnishes. It is an old Thai dish that is so hard to find these days. I was on cloud nine! I promise to write a recipe when I get home to San Francisco.
The meal was so fantastic I wanted to stay there for dinner. Unfortunately, I had to go to a party at the club with my parents.
(to be continued)
Today had better give me enough good karma for the new year!
I am currently mosquito food, writing in the middle of bloody nowhere, three hours outside of Bangkok. I was pretending to be a model daughter when I agreed to accompany my dad to a New Year party for one of the businesses he is involved in. The business is a tax-exempt industrial park three hours by car in the Northeastern (Isaan) area of Thailand.
What fun! @#$%$#
No one bothered to tell me that we would have to stay over night, so I had but 5 minutes to pack before we left the house. God knows what kind of essential grooming products I should find myself needing tomorrow morning! This is going to be such fun!
I was somewhat interested in coming, I hadn't been here before. The province, Kabindraburi, is also famous for some interesting food, like a positively incendiary Nam-prik Pla-heng (a chilli paste made of crispy smoked fish). My dad said he would arrange for a visit at the shop tomorrow.
The party is, how shall I put it, ghastly. It was intended for the employees, so everything was arranged for their enjoyment. So, instead of serving regional food, which I would have loved, they serve Chinese food. It was intended to be a special treat, as Chinese food is usually too expensive for these employees to eat on their own dough.
There was also a stage, with ear-splitting Thai country music, which is an entirely different animal than US country music, though neither is my cup of tea. The band comprises not only of musicians, but skimpily clothed dancers in neon colored, sequined dresses and platform shoes. I am certain the employees find the whole thing entertaining, but please, someone, kill me now.
This is the countryside, so kowtowing goes on to the umpteen degree. Lots of people have been coming by our table, where the esteemed board members have been placed, wai-ing and kowtowing. The conversation directed at me consisted only of a few phrases. “How lovely to see you again?” (I'd never seen these people, save one or two, in my entire life.) “How beautiful you are, you father must be so proud.” (Trust me, the face I was making when she made the comment was something far, far from beautiful.) “How do you like Kabindraburi? (It's fine thank you, but can I please leave now?!!)
They were all very sweet, but how many compliments could one take in at once? I have been taking copious notes in my little black notebook, which should have at least appeared a bit strange to some of these people, but no one even asked what I was doing. Perhaps it would have been impolite to steer away from pleasant formalities.
I was complaining so much about the mosquitoes, there was a flurry of activity to try to solve the problem for me. You see, I arrived like an imbecilic city girl that I am, in a short sleeveless linen dress, anticipating the heat. What I didn't expect was that the party would be outdoor. At night, being outdoor in Thailand is like offering yourself up as mosquito food. Everyone around me came properly dressed in long sleeves and long pants or long skirts. I was, therefore, the only target for every single mosquito in the five kilometers radius.
Someone arrived with a ring of mosquito repellent which was lit like incense. It was placed next to my chair. The mosquitoes were not discouraged however, so more incense were fetch, lit and placed around me. Before I knew it, I was sitting there, in white linen, with people kowtowing about, incense lit at all four corner of my chair, I must have been quite a sight.
The food just came. The first two dishes were spicy salads. One is of crispy fried fish maws, cashew nuts, dried sweet pork, onions, Chinese celeries, and a standard Thai dressing of fish sauce, lime juices and chillies. The second was a salad of pig ear sausage, a specialty of the region, apparently. They were actually not bad at all, tasty, and very interesting mix of texture and flavors. This party is picking up finally. I especially liked the pig ear sausage, made of only pig ears, pressed together into a tube, steamed, and sliced thin.
Next we had Tom-yum of farmed chicken, not a poulet de Bresse, mind you, but very good nonetheless, flavorful and slightly chewy. The soup broth was very spicy and could use a bit more aromatics.
There was also an interesting roasted duck. The duck had been marinated in five spice and steamed, then roasted to crisp the skin. It was good, if a bit too sweet for my taste. I did enjoy the very crisp skin quite a bit, especially with the sour lemon/chilli dipping sauce that was served with it.
Then came a somewhat hohum fried rice, and a shark's fin soup, which I didn't eat, on principle. Sharks are apex predators which have been vastly over-fished. I am opposed to a common practice in Asia of catching sharks only to cut of the fins, the rest of the carcasses thrown over board to attract yet more sharks to the boat. I am a carnivore, I condone the taking of lives as food, but I cannot approve of such a waste.
The entertainment has just changed from the band to a Pop Idol type competition. There were six contestants, three of each sex, wait a minute, this being Thailand, it was more like two of each sex. There were two good singers, but unfortunately the other ones were simply horrid. Adding the my general annoyance, I only understood just about one tenth of what was being said up in the stage. This province is in Isaan, so people here speak the Isaan or Laotian dialect.
The only good news of the night came when dad heard from the other board members that no one would be staying over night here. He then decided to head home too. Yay, there IS a god.
----------------
I forgot to mention a lunch we had on the way there. I wanted to go back to the OTOP fair to get a couple more things, so we stopped there on the way out to Krabindraburi.
We stopped for lunch on the way to the fair, at this medium size restaurant called Gai Tong (Golden Chicken). The restaurant is very famous, and always very crowded. They are famous for Chinese-Thai type of food, and have very fresh seafood on the menu. I wouldn't order a curry here, in fact, I don't think it's even on the menu, but other dishes are great. My dad and I ordered a table full of dishes.
We started out with extremely fresh crayfish (Goong Mae-nam, or river lobster). The crayfish was marinaded in sea salt, then fried whole with a lot of garlic and pepper. The crayfish was split in half on a plate, covered in a huge pile of sweet and peppery fried garlic. The head was oozing with the smoothest and creamiest “caviar”. It was absolutely delicious.
Then, we had a plate of stir-fried fish, Pla In-see Pad Prik-thai Dam, one of their specialties. The meaty fish was chopped up into large pieces with bones attached, and stir fried in a very peppery sauce with sweet onions, green onions, and fresh green pepper on stems. It managed to be very peppery and deeply flavored while letting the sweet taste of the fish flesh came through.
Next came a plate of Sum Tum, the ubiquitous green papaya salad, except that this one was made with not the papaya but the tender shoots of coconut. The coconut shoots are julienned and toss in the manner of Som Tum. It was delicious as well.
The last dish was a chow fun with pork. It was good, but I could get it at any restaurant in Chinatown, so I didn't eat much of it.
I intend to go back there and sample more of the tempting menu. I will tell you more about them later.
This place is a bit off the beaten path, but not that hard to get to really. It easy to find, opposite Sukhothai Dharmadiraj University. Any taxi could get you there easily via the express way. I think it's well worth it, especially if you came for lunch and avoid rush hour traffic.
Well, it is official. The metamorphosis has completed. I am back to being one of Bangkok's bowing birds. I hardly even noticed.
At lunch today, a decidedly odd Christmas lunch considering it was entirely among Buddhist family members, one of my aunts commented how great it was that I hadn't lost my Thai-ness even after so many years abroad. Just like yesterday, with the opposite comment, I was startled at first. Me, Thai, still? Then I realized my shoulders were not in the same squared position it was yesterday. I found myself oddly slouching, being entirely polite, and, yes, deferential. Damn! It came back to me so easily I hardly noticed it coming back.
Damn!
Our Christmas lunch was a (gasp) buffet at the Grand Hyatt Erawan hotel, one of the fancy hotels in Ploenjit area. I was happy to see that there was some Thai food for me to eat. I'd been planning to go on a hunger strike were there none.
I won't say much about the meal itself, as I won't recommend it. The Thai food they served were pretty good, especially the sticky rice and mango, but the bill was far too expensive for what you get. If you paid for the buffet ticket, expecting to eat only Thai food, you'd be subsidizing all the other people eating the mediocre but expensive smoked salmon, dodgy grilled lamb chops and other fancy western food items.
My older sister and I went for a little walk after the lunch. This being Bangkok, our “walk” was taken at a fancy mall, called Gaysorn Plaza. The mall is literally across the street from the hotel, but, again, this being Bangkok, my sister pronounced the day far too hot to make the 500 meters trip on foot (in her oh-so-English wool twin set, yes, it indeed was) and insisted that we took the car.
So in we went to the car, the driver took us from the lobby of the hotel, made a little u-turn to set the car to the appropriate direction toward the Gaysorn Plaza, and there we waited, in traffic, for at least 15 minutes. My sister thought I had gone stark raving mad as I couldn't stop my giggling fit in the car. I simply couldn't help it, it was absolutely ridiculous.
During the 15 or so minutes that I sat stationary at the Ploenjit intersection, I must have seen at least twenty older white males with younger Thai companions, whom they have obviously purchased. Once, I saw two utterly plain vanilla Midwest couples in their late 60's. They were accompanied by a small, dark skinned Thai girl who could not have been more than twenty. Her manners and clothing, or the lack thereof, rather, were obviously those of a rented woman. What they intended to do with her I could hardly imagine. She was but a size of one of their thighs!
Seeing these old men (and women, apparently) with their rented girls, I couldn't help but stare at them disapprovingly. Generally, my view on the issue of prostitution is one of apathy. It is simply another profession, not unlike many others. The parties involved are usually consenting adults. I have no say in their private matters of trade.
For Thailand, however, my feeling is rather different. The “industry” is so ripe with corruption and abuse, I have trouble maintaining my intellectual view of the matter. It is difficult to argue for Agency when it is evident that my society provides those girls precious few alternatives.
It has been two days now in Bangkok. On one hand it felt like a blink of an eye, but on the other it appeared as though it has been forever since I returned. Thailand always evokes such contradicting reactions in me.
I had forgotten how busy Bangkok was. The traffic here is unbelievable. Nearly half my waking hours have been spent in the car, sitting in traffic. It was good that I didn't have to drive. I have long ago lost my ability to navigate Bangkok traffic, not to mention the changing landscape of the city.
Bangkok is heavy on one's senses. Mine is almost overloaded. I feel increasingly as though I am an autistic child in need of a shut down. The streets are clogged with vehicles, the sidewalks full of people, the buildings close together. There are just too many bloody people in this city. And I haven't even started on the noise yet. Close you eyes and imagine a room full of kids practicing on the drums and other extremely loud musical instruments. The noise of Bangkok is worse than that scene you've just conjured up in your head, at all hours.
Bangkok also takes a toll on my emotions. I am reminded of everything I have left behind, the good and the bad. Seeing family and old friends again, those who are still living the life I had rejected, I couldn't help but rethink my choices and look down the road not taken, imagining what would have met me at the end of it.
Thailand is such a study in contradiction. There are so many things that are familiar, yet others are now utterly foreign to me. My mother told me today that I held myself like a Farang, a foreigner. I was startled. What do you mean I held myself like a foreigner, I asked her, indignantly. Then I realized how bow-y everyone around me was. Thai people have a habit of rounding up the shoulders and slouching a little, in deference to others with higher social status. Security guards do it when opening doors, waiters do it while bringing food or refilling water, one must do it even while standing in the company of other people of higher status or age. I am almost certain thieves also bow when taking your money. Bangkok is a city full of polite bowing birds. If you were a chiropractor, this city would be a gold mine waiting for you! As for me, my shoulders were squared, and my back straight. I was ready to face anyone on the same level. I am indeed holding myself like a Farang.
Even my own mother tongue has betrayed me. I spoke today to one of Bangkok's grand doyennes whom Mother and I ran into at lunch. During the conversation, I used a few words and phrases that were simply not polite enough for the situation. I wasn't trying to be improper, those words simply came to my mouth as if they had not passed properly through my brain. I could see them leaving my lips and hanging momentarily in space before dropping off, denying me a chance to take them back. I have become such an embarrassment.
It is deceptively easy to get into the rhythm of things here again. Yes, the city is a mad cacophony of senses, but it has become increasingly benign as I get used to it again. It is easy to close ones eyes to everything happening outside, especially when you are being driven around in a quiet, air conditioned, and comfortable car.
I was reminded of how comfortable life in Bangkok was. I don't have to deal with a constant search for the next parking space, or carry heavy bags full of my new acquisitions. Someone brings me water when I am thirsty. Someone cooks for me when I am hungry. This life is good. But then I remember the main reason I didn't want to live here. In Thailand, life is extremely comfortable for some people, the rest of them are just perpetually damned.
I've always known that Thailand is an extremely hierarchical society. I grew up in it. However, knowing it conceptually, now that I live far, far away, and facing it again on a day to day basis are two different things.
Today began with a trip to a hairdresser with Mother. Her salon is in the Peninsula Plaza building, next door to the Four Seasons hotel. This little place is known as the bastion of old money, and a hotbed of society gossips. As I walked into the small four-seat salon, the hairdresser and I engaged in our well-cultivated ritual of racing to “Wai”, putting one's hands together chest level in show of deference, each other. It was a little game we always played, and yesterday, we had another one of our little duals, greetings and laughs were exchanged, and we were both happy with the proper deference we showed each other. All was well, and indeed ridiculous, with this world.
After our respective hairs have been properly coiffed, Mother and I went to lunch at a place called Lunch Time. The tiny unassuming restaurant is tucked into a quiet and well hidden corner of the Peninsula building. The menu is written in Thai on a blackboard. The food here is quite simple, even inexpensive. But it is the style of food served in upper class households; each item on the menu is served as a set, with its proper, albeit simple, accompaniments. This is where all the society doyennes take their lunches, on her way to or from said hairdresser or one of the exclusive jewelers in the building.
I had Kanom-jeen Nam-ya, a plate of fermented noodle with fresh and pickled vegetables served with a spicy curry of minced fish. The Kanom-jeen noodle has a slight and pleasant sour taste from the fermentation and, for some reason, is entirely unavailable in the US. The curry was very nice, complex, spicy, and properly fishy, if a bit cold.
If you happen to find yourself in Bangkok shopping in the famous Ploenjit area, I recommend this little place for lunch. It is inexpensive, and utterly free of other tourists. You would need to ask someone to translate the menu, but that won't be difficult. And if you saw a well-dressed and bejeweled, albeit tastefully, lady in her mid 60's whose look vaguely reminds you of me, and whose hair have been freshly set, you probably have just run into my mother. Don't bother saying hello though, when approached by a bumbling and strange Farang, Mother would surely pretend she doesn't understand a word of English.
After lunch, we went to a huge fair on the outskirt of Bangkok. The fair is a brainchild of our current Prime Minister. I am not normally a big fan of this man, because of this and other equally stupid antics of his, but I must salute him for this admirable enterprise. His idea was to create supplemental income for villagers in the provinces, by letting each village come up with their special product. The government provided them some capital, and helped set up a shop in each province to peddle the wares. A big fair in Bangkok is to be set up once a year, where all the products are sold to Bangkokians and foreign visitors. The project, and the fair, is called OTOP, One Tumbon (village) One Product.
To say that the OTOP fair is huge would be an understatement. It took place at a rambling conference complex called Mueng-thong Tani. Almost every village from each of Thailand's 74 provinces is represented. The wares they sell range from tea-scented fermented eggs to gorgeous silk fabrics.
I was lucky to be in town during the fair. Should you ever find yourself in Thailand in December, I highly recommend making a trek out to it. You can take the Sky Train out to Mueng-thong Tani, and there are shuttle buses to take people between the station and the fairground.
The range of products on sale here is simply mind boggling. There was one whole isle selling only deep fried durian chips. I kid you not. Another isle is les frères Majumdar's idea of Valhalla, a whole isle selling only freshly deep fried pork crackling with an array of dipping sauces and relishes.
There are also stalls and stalls of beautiful silk fabrics and prêt à porter. I bought some gorgeous sarongs and fabrics made of naturally dyed silks. The color of those silk fabrics are tastefully subdued, as the dyes used are entirely from natural sources such as tree barks, leaves, and fruit and berry juices. A particularly pretty sarong I bought was dyed with, among other things, the core of jackfruits!
There was a huge hall dedicated entirely to edible products. I didn't know Thailand make so many different kinds of wine! They were all mediocre, mind you, but the range was impressive nonetheless.
Specialty foods from every province are on sale here. Dark sausages, a boudin noir of sort, from the north. Shrimp paste from the south. Sweet “moo-yong” pork from Isaan. Positively incendiary fish kidney curry from the deep south. Golden strands (Foy-tong) from Ayudhya. Even the Kanom Morgeng from Petchburi, which David Thompson made such a mockery for the meal I had at Nahm. Luckily, the ones on sale here are so distant from the disgusting pile of mush served (for 10 quid a plate) at Nahm.
I bought everything in sight. Luckily, this was Bangkok, so it was my driver, not me, who made the three treks back to the car to deposit my acquisitions.
As any scheme concocted by the government, this one was launched with a big fanfair, but it is a bit lacking in the follow-through department. The villagers were left to their own devices in deciding what to make and sell. The result includes some truly sadly misguided attempts at being artsy and crafty.
There are also truly traditional products that the villagers have decided to “modernized” to fit the taste of city dwellers and foreigners. The results were sometimes ghastly. For example, there were only a handful of stalls selling naturally dyed silks, the others use synthetic dyes to create brightly or neon(!) colored silk fabrics which could have well been produced in a factory. These villagers didn't understand that preserving their traditional ways would have been better both for them and their bottom-line.
I wish there were people with some sense of design and marketing to guide them. Don't get me wrong, I don't want them all to be molded in the design sense of Ikea and Crate and Barrel. A good design or product consultant would be able to help them adapt the folk sensibility into products that can be useful or beautiful in other contexts as well.
After the fair, my mother and I went on yet another shopping errand to Central, a famous department store in the center of the Bangkok. We then decided to stop for dinner at the Greyhound Cafe in the store. The cafe is rather sleek and modern looking. The menu is a hybrid of some western and Thai dishes. Despite the cool, modern look, the Thai items on the menu are quite nice. I ordered Kao kab Nam-prik Pla-too, rice and a shrimp paste relish, which was somewhat similar to the relish I made for some of us in London, except that it was served with pan-fried salted fish instead of crispy fish, and there was no caramelized belly pork here.
My mother ordered a Miang Kway-tyo Moo Sub, a wrap-your-own sort of fresh spring roll. The dish came with a square pile of freshly cut flat chow-fun noodle, with some lettuce, a relish of minced pork, and a green spicy and sour sauce of ground green chilli, lime juice, and a bit of fish sauce. To eat it, you take a bit of the lettuce, over which you carefully lay a sheet of fresh noodle, on goes the pork, then the green sauce, wrap it up, and chow. It was very nice.
The star of the meal was the dessert. The dessert bowl came with an icy slush of coconut juice at the bottom, with some “ruby” water chestnut chunks on top, with some julienned fresh coconut flesh, and a spoonful or two of coconut milk over everything. This is an upper class version of the classic “Crispy Ruby” or “Tuptim Krop” which you could find on any street corner. The “ruby” is made of small chunks of fresh water chestnuts, rolled in a bit of red coloring and then in sticky rice flour. The rubies are then boiled quicky in syrup, resulting in red, gooey on the outside and crispy on the inside, balls chestnuts that do somewhat resemble the name. On the street, these rubies are served with some sugar syrup and ice, and a bit of coconut milk to finish. Greyhound's version was vastly superior. I highly recommend you try it if you made it there.
I waddled down to the waiting car, and got home in time to play with my nephews before they had to turn in for the night. Life is good
I'm killing time waiting for my flight to Bangkok, well, make that Hong Kong, then Bangkok. For those who haven't heard, I'm going home to visit for three weeks.
My plan is to see my family, eat as much real Thai food as I can possible handle, and beg various relatives and family friends to divulge to me their cooking secrets, some of which I might be inspired enough to share here.
Check back here for more news. I'll be posting about all my adventures, well, perhaps not all of them. ;-)
Recent Comments