The alpha and the omega: noodle soup

So, we end as we begin. Dining on noodle soup in a food court. This time, however, in Phnom Penh and not the same experience as that at the Mah Boon Krong Centre in Bangkok on the first day of this trip. Here, a duller, dingier floor of food stalls in a low-rise shopping centre, full of Khmer eating, most seeming to opt for deep-fried offerings from the red-and-gold liveried McKing, rather than dishes from any of the various Cambodian food stalls. But it was a friendly eating experience, and the noodle soup a little different from its Thai counterpart … a prawn in with the chicken, wide flat noodles rather than the more usual thin ones, but perhaps the main difference was in the condiments … lentils, chopped chillies, and the adjoining mounds of ground black pepper & salt which, if I understand correctly, you mix together with a squeeze of lime juice. But anyway, very tasty and just what I wanted, with the next 48 hours being filled with hotel and airline food. And an amusing end-note also, with, at the top of the stairs leading down from the food court to the ground floor, a sign warning ‘Caution Slippy Stairs’.

Riverside dining

Friends who live here may wrinkle their nose and sniff, “Tourist trap.” But I don’t care. I was determined to have one meal at an old favourite restaurant, The Gallery, the setting for – the start of – many a great evening in the past. I insisted on eating there last year also, and wasn’t disappointed, the food as good as ever, and the setting hadn’t lost any of its magic. Beside the slow flowing Mae Ping, Chiang Mai’s silt-brown river, at tables beneath the lantern-hung branches of some spreading tree … charming. There is something very special about eating beside moving water. Sipping chilled Lao beer at one of the bamboo bars overhanging the Mekong at Luang Prabang … a glass of excellent Allan Scott riesling on the deck of a hotel in Port Vila, with small fish darting about in the water below … I won’t go on.

 

The food, on this occasion, old favourites … gai haw bai toey (chicken wrapped in pandanus leaves, served with sweet chilli sauce), tom yum khung (the famous spicy prawn soup), red duck curry, banana flower salad with prawns …no disappointments, and remarkable really that the restaurant has remained so consistently good for so many years.  

 

And for my money, this was a superior dining experience to the night before’s … the screamingly stylish D2 hotel restaurant, Moxie its name, which the staff tried to tell us was French, though un mot inconnu to the two Francophones I was with. There I also had their red duck curry, re-interpreted with lychees in the sauce, smooth texture, a little sweet, but ultimately less interesting in the mouth than the standard dish.

Pad thai khung: a firm favourite

This was the first Thai dish I knew by name, I guess because I liked and ate a lot of it when I worked in Bangkok almost twenty years ago. A few years later too, at the end of our soi in Lampang a woman would set up her pad thai stall each evening, and many a time Derek, one of my American house mates, and I would wander down for dinner. I heard a while back that Derek was killed in a road accident some years ago; terribly sad. He was a great guy, and the only one of the young graduates brought in to teach English that was much chop.

 

Funnily enough, I don’t recollect pad thai from my first trip to Thailand … almost exactly 24 years ago! But in those days I was travelling on a very lean budget. Dinner was the cheapest item on the menu, usually some sort of fried rice. And to make it last, to make it seem more filling, I can remember emulating our old Maths master at school, a boarding school, where masters sat as the heads of table for the evening meal. Whenever he appeared every boy willed KRAF, as we called him, not to select his table, for KRAF ate in a truly maddening fashion. He’d take a mouthful, chew it slowly twenty times on one side, then chew again slowly twenty times on the other, before swallowing. Often the meal would be ending before he had finished his main course, and for boys in a boarding school the thought of missing out on dessert was almost unbearable. But back in the oily-rag days of my backpacking youth, his eating style became mine, briefly, though probably not very successfully.

 

But anyway, why do I like pad thai khung so much? Juicy prawns, the contrasting textures of tofu and khung heng, the dried shrimps, the crunch of fresh bean sprouts, the whole seasoned with a generous squeeze of lime juice, chopped roasted peanuts, a judicious sprinkling of dry chilli. Plus noodles, of course, the base of the dish. And the best pad thai is made by a friend’s live-out housekeeper. That was lunch today. Washed down with a glass of Heineken. The perfect preparation for an afternoon nap.

More street food: bibs required

A free night, a night without a dinner engagement, so wandered round to the Kalare food court, five or ten minutes from the hotel. Kalare sits off the night bazaar here in Chiang Mai. And a place where fresh-faced students come to find tourists to interview for some pointless survey or other. Tonight it was German students. Last year, Francophone Thai students. So, perhaps this is not a place to find the greatest food, but what’s on offer ain’t too bad. Tonight chose a bowl of khao soi gai, which might roughly translate as chicken curry soup. Another of my favourite street food dishes … and tonight’s not the first I’ve had since my arrival over a week ago. This one lacked the side dishes of pickled vegetables that are the usual accompaniment, but otherwise it was good. Could have gone, I suppose, to a restaurant here in Chiang Mai that specialises in khao soi … it’s called Just Khao Soi, the testimony to one farang’s love of the dish. Ate there last year with friends made at the conference I was then attending … very good, but perhaps aimed at tourists rather than those in search of an authentic eating experience. Oh dear, does that sound pretentious?!! Maybe. Anyway, the most memorable khao soi I ever had was not on the street but at a hotel in Bangkok, Chateau de Bangkok … truly excellent. But, I recall, that’s when I realised khao soi may not be the best choice for someone wearing a white shirt. It does tend to splatter!  In Italy, in the past, I’ve been told, bibs came with pasta dishes. The same should be mandatory for khao soi eating.

Doi Tung

Have returned from a couple of nights on Doi Tung, a mountain of the Thai-Burmese border, where there is a royal project focusing on improving the lives, or livelihoods, of the ethnic minority peoples who call the mountain home. Friends are there, working with the schools, and they took care of our eating needs during our visit. And oh, what a contrast to the execrable Whole Earth restaurant that was!  

 

The first night they took us to a restaurant that had formerly been a rehabilitation centre for opium addicts, overlooking a brightly lit Burmese town, though our eyes were more often on the stunning harvest moon that night. And the food was extraordinarily good, made from the freshest ingredients, many, I suspect, organic produce from the project. But there’s a problem for me in trying to say what we ate, regrettably, ‘cos so much is unfamiliar … one memorable dish, though, was fritters, crisp exterior, creamy interior, made primarily from pumpkin tendrils & tofu, with a plum sauce on the side. Another, rounds of translucent marrow stuffed with minced pork.

 

It’s not necessary to travel to this relatively remote spot to eat well, however. There’s also a restaurant at the Doi Tung centre, where we ate several times. Unprepossessing appearance, and distinctly ordinary breakfasts, but then American breakfasts are pretty unexciting affairs at the best of times. The Thai food, however, was very very good. A couple of dishes … thinly sliced pumpkin, pieces about the size of a memory card, with egg … tender pieces of chicken with macadamia nuts, produce of the project. All these dishes new to me, and so terribly good. We were fortunate, of course, to have our meals ordered for us by someone who knows Thai food … Perhaps others wouldn’t have quite the same experience. But I’d happily return to Doi Tung. Tomorrow. A beautiful spot, even without the food to recommend it.

Culinary crime #3

Thailand has great food, everyone knows that. And you don’t have to travel to Thailand to find first-rate Thai food either. So, when you’re in the country itself, it’s reasonable to have certain expectations … put it this way, you certainly don’t expect to be served dishes containing frozen mixed vegetables! But that’s what happened the other night at the Whole Earth Restaurant here in Chiang Mai. It’s been a popular eating spot (for tourists at least) for many years. Can’t imagine why. We ordered four dishes, each dreadful. So, if you’re heading to Chiang Mai, be warned … avoid that restaurant like the plague.

A tale of two TVs, and dinner

Ventured out into the soi last night for an early dinner. The end of day on the street is always great, the bright lights of hairdressers doing roaring business, the street sellers with their barrows of cooked food, the singles & couples & families buying a bit of this, a bit of that to take home for dinner. Beats cooking every night. Often, in the days when I lived & worked in Lampang, that was where dinner came from. But I knew where I was going & what I was after last night … khao man gai, chicken & rice. The chicken either steamed or fried, sliced and served on rice, with unpeeled chopped cucumber on the side, sauce separately, and a bowl of clear soup made from the chicken broth, with a piece of near-translucent marrow sitting in the bottom. It was, last night, I have to say, a slightly disappointing eating experience, for the steamed chicken was a little dry. But the solution lies in the soup … spoon it over the chicken & rice.

 

The restaurant was a somewhat unprepossessing place, a double shop house, flaking blue paint on the walls. Probably wouldn’t have gone in if I hadn’t recognised what they were selling. When, after a few minutes, I removed my attention from the food I noticed the owners, an elderly couple. He, near me, watching an English language programme, the volume turned down low. She, on the far side, hair dyed defiantly black, working at a desk, and with HER TV tuned VERY loudly to a Thai programme. A hagiographic treatment of the disgraced former PM, Thaksin Shinawatra, it seemed … a party political channel, I wondered? But anyway, quite a picture of dysfunction the two presented.

 

Walking back to the hotel, not hungry but we eat with our eyes, I spied a roti seller with his cart. Again, in Lampang, we used sometimes to jump on our motorbikes and go to the night market for simple roti, a crepe essentially. This time I went for the works … the ball of dough gets flattened with the palm of the hand, pulled into a wide thin circle, placed on the circular hot plate … for the works, an egg cracked on top, sliced banana added, then the whole folded into a square, lashings of condensed milk poured over … et voila! Served on a paper plate, cut into 9 perfect mouthfuls.

My Marie Antoinette moment

“Let them eat cake,” she’s supposed to have said. And I suppose the idea is that we’re all outraged that she could have been so callous about the suffering of the poor while stuffing herself with delicacies. (Although I also suppose that might depend on the tone in which those words were spoken. But let’s go with the standard interpretation.) I had my own little Marie Antoinette moment on the flight from Auckland to Bangkok yesterday. The first meal had been served, I’d just taken a spoonful of the red pepper pannacotta that formed part of the entrée. But had also just started reading the front page article of this week’s Guardian Weekly: ‘Anger and fear: workers of Europe take to streets’. For a brief moment it seemed terribly WRONG that I was being pampered at some ridiculous altitude while ‘out there’ people were growing increasingly afraid of unemployment, the global economic crisis, of being able to put food on the table. Still, I could scarcely open the window to share my entrée, even the entire meal, with the world, could I? So I ate up.  

Spoiled for choice

Bangkok, such a great city. It’s good to be back, even if just for one day. Have been out re-engaging with the city – those magnificent shopping plazas and department stores, consumer heaven really – but have now retreated to the hotel … it was a long flight yesterday & I’m allowed to take it easy. Plus this place is very comfortable, may as well enjoy it. Looking out the window, there are skyscrapers of course, several of those nearby no doubt, like this place, serviced apartments. But the view’s far from being all glass and concrete and balconies … I look down at an impressive swimming pool and from this vantage point can appreciate better than the occasional pale-bodied swimmer the dark blue stylised flower (or is it an octopus?!) painted on the bottom of the pool, and at gardens nearby, treetops a little further away, surprising amounts of green really, so welcome in this city. With overhead clear blue sky, smudging to light smog-grey as the eye descends, and the ghost of a moon.

 

But it’s not so much the shopping & the hotels that trip the re-engagement; it’s more to do with using my few words of Thai, and eating. I like eating at places that are popular locally. Perhaps not the street stalls, not on day one anyway, but the food courts at least. So, off to an old favourite, the Mah Boon Krong Centre, for an early lunch. I mentioned this plan to the young Thai woman seated beside me on the plane yesterday … “All the tourists go to MBK. It’s in all the guide books,” she told me, but not dismissively. For why not go there? There’s lots of interesting choice, it’s not expensive. And it’s popular with Thais too. In fact farang weren’t much in evidence at lunchtime today. When I made a predictable choice … egg noodle soup with stewed duck … noodle soup has always been a favourite for lunch when in Thailand, and I’m a sucker for duck. And it hit the spot exactly. With a light sprinkling of chilli flakes, sufficient to expand the sinuses but not to make the eyes water … just the right amount.

 

Yes, it’s good to be back. What’s for dinner?

 

 

Of charred courgettes and failing lemons

A friend writes from Brighton. It’s like Narnia there, when the White Witch reigned … at least, their beautiful garden is quilted with snow and everyone I hear from in Europe complains of the enduring, extreme winter. But it was not of the weather he was writing. My charred courgettes entry had caught his eye, struck a chord. So I’m going to share HIS recipe for a similar dish.

 

750g courgettes, sliced into very thin rounds
Olive oil
3 cloves garlic, very finely chopped
12 sprigs fresh mint, coarsely shredded
Cayenne pepper
4 tablespoons white wine vinegar
Sea salt and cracked pepper

Griddle the courgettes on a hot pan until well marked with colour. Drain on kitchen towel then place a layer on the bottom of the bowl you intend to serve them in. Sprinkle with garlic, a few mint leaves, a hint of cayenne, a good splash of vinegar and salt and pepper. Top with another layer of the same and repeat, building as many layers as ingredients allow. Cover tightly and leave to marinate in the fridge. Remove at least an hour and a half before serving as this salad is best served at room temperature.

 

Worth a try, next time. Next summer? Depends. Will the courgettes still be producing when I return in two or three weeks? And I’ll take heed of his suggestion not to be too heavy-handed with the vinegar. That may have caused the sogginess I complained of. So much to learn!

 

And, before I forget, a response to another troubling problem … why won’t the lemon tree fruit? A text from Napier. Spray with sulphur. Nothing to lose, and if it works, well, it would be so gratifying to have my own lemon tree to rely on. Instead of raiding my father’s all the time!