Attacked by guinea fowl.

On a recent sunny morning we decided to take breakfast outdoors . It went quite well, until our outing was broken up by a flock of helmeted guinea fowl.

We had stopped on the way at the bakery at Jardine, which I'd been wanting to try for months. The bakery is quite brilliantly designed-- just a window and a glass counter facing onto the street, so patrons can order coffee, pastry, or sandwiches, then either enjoy them on the high sidewalk tables (standing only), or take them to go.

We ordered some croissants and lattes, and took them up to Signal Hill. It was a little windy, so we had the picnic grounds entirely to ourselves. We grabbed a table from which we could look onto both the sea below and Lion's Head behind-- private breakfast with a brilliant view. I had chosen an almond croissant, which was fantastic. I was just finishing it up when we were set upon by the guinea fowl, who were eager to gather up our crumbs.

So at least they were guinea fowl with good taste.

One day of eating in Saigon.

Even though I've managed life in Bangkok for over a year, the city of Saigon still intimidates me. I am, however, fascinated by it-- it's a colorful town with a tropical atmosphere, and its streets and sidewalks teem with activity. I almost chose to live there, rather than in Thailand, and I'm still curious about what life would have been like. Despite, I feel as though I can barely began to comprehend the city, can barely see over the traffic of whirring motorbikes-- making eating, in a sense, a challenge. Searching out a distant market seems daunting, seeking specific street-snacks seems impossible. Thankfully, there are enough good flavors and tastes in the city that I was well-fed on my last visit, despite my lack of adventurousness.

On our last full day in Saigon, Bordeaux and I took a leisurely breakfast at La Fenetre Soleil, an inviting upstairs cafe. Though it's located up a dingy staircase and down a dark hallway, it manages to attract it's fair share of fans (including a fellow blogger). My breakfast was a double dose of rich Vietnamse coffee: an iced black drip coffee, and Vietnamese coffee french toast. The latter was particularly spectacular: smooth and well-flavoured, and drizzled with sweetened milk (though I don't know what peanuts have to do with Vietnamese coffee, they added a nice crunchy texture).

For lunch, we ducked behind a downtown mosque, to a shady courtyard curry shop. The richly spiced dishes were excellent- particularly a beef curry with tender strips of okra. It was eaten with roti, which were crisped golden brown. The beverage, though simple, should be noted- bubbling soda water with two wedges of lime, and a little white sugar. After drip coffee and avocado shakes, it's my favorite Vietnamese drink-- perfect for the steamy tropical heat.

For dinner, we chose an outdoor restaurant near the central Ben Thanh market. Among our dishes were grilled shrimp on sugarcane, and a crunchy banh xeo pancake. We have another restaurant there that we favor, and we should have gone there again-- they didn't live up to the quality of their neighbor. At least the Saigon beer was cold.

Hopefully next time I'm in town I'll be better prepared, and feeling a little more adventurous. In the mean time, for an expert's guide to eating in the city, cruise Robyn's Saigon articles on Eating Asia.

Taiwan Treats: Coffee Jelly.

I normally opt for milk tea or a fruit smoothie when stopping at a drink shop here in Taiwan, but last week I decided to try a coffee. But since this is Taiwan, I decided to get it in a local style- filled with jelly. The chunks of dark brown jelly were slipped into the cup, coffee was poured in, and the whole thing was sealed, for me to pierce with a straw later. Trying it when I got home, I was impressed with how good it was. The coffee was strong and rich, with a sweet creaminess that reminded me almost of coffee back in Southeast Asia. The main difference here was the jelly: in addition to adding an unusual texture, it added a nice caramel flavor.

Cafes of Phnom Penh.

One of the worst things about only having a few days in Phnom Penh was that there was not nearly enough time to get to all of the cafes and coffeeshops that we wanted to. When Bordeaux and I first visited Phnom Penh, we had been traveling for the two months previous, and we were thrilled to be able to recharge in so many different wonderful cafes. But more than just relief from homesickness, Phnom Penh's elegant cafes offer delicious baked goods, well executed meals, and, most importantly, excellent coffee. On this visit, we nostalgically visited a few we'd made it to last time. We had breakfast at Java, a second floor art gallery/cafe that makes strong Vietnamese drip coffee and serves an excellent bowl of muesli, yogurt, and locally sourced honey. We made it back to The Shop, a bakery and deli where I tried the decadent crepe with mango, banana, and passion fruit. We also made time to try a new place, Chocolate, where we paired a dark chocolate brownie with equally dark coffee.

Bangkok Portait: Waiting in the Coffee Shop.

Early morning, a street-side coffee stand on Rama IV.

Cape Town; for the birds.

I spent my first stay in Cape Town mainly in idle, quietly in awe of what an amazing city it was. On cool evenings I'd sit with a book on my apartment's balcony; the light would be seeping from between nearby Table Mountain and the apartment towers that hugged its base, and in the distance I could hear the broken-horn call of a flock of hadidas as they flapped down into a neighbor's yard. One of my favorite things about living in Cape Town was the incredible bird life. Though I strongly disagree with the suggestion that Cape Town is a piece of Europe on the African continent, I'm willing to concede that it gives that appearance. Though the city's calmly ordered streets, elegant sidewalk cafes, and charming homes give it a European atmosphere, the unusual birds that roost throughout Cape Town reveal the city's true exotic nature.

To some degree, it even seemed almost as though each neighborhood had it's own bird that reflected its character. Gardens had its hadidas, Sea Point had its seagulls, Rondebosch had its guinea fowl. Further afield, Vals Bay had its indiosyncratic African penguins, and Cape Point its delicately-exotic ostriches. I even hear that Flaminco Vlei actually gets flamingos in certain seasons; I imagine that with their awkward forms and garrish feathers, they'd fit in perfectly with the tasteless ostentation of the suburb.

After a long day of bird-spotting, Love Birds Cafe on Bree Street is the ideal spot to relax. The setting, aside from the prerecorded soundtrack of chirping birds, is serene, and the baked goods and coffee are incredible. The decor is simple yet sharply styled. The stark farm-house furnishings are contrasted with an odd collection of serving-ware that reflect the cafe's theme.

Thanksgiving among Bedouins.

This year marks the third Thanksgiving that I have spent out of the Unites States. Last year I was in South Africa, and I barely noted the date as it passed by. The year previous, I was in Syria, halfway through a trip around the Middle East, and had a very memorable Thanksgiving in a desert oasis. I spent the evening having coffee with a small group of Bedouins, an all-white camel named Zenobia, and a mysterious German woman whose real name I never learned.

The day before, I had taken a minibus tour provided by my Hamas hotel out to see the Roman ruins of Afamia, and the crusader castle the Crac des Chevaliers. In the minibus with me there were several other guests from my hotel: two Danish men who were traveling together, an older Belgian man who was traveling alone, and a young German woman who introduced herself as Carmen.

"What do you do in Germany?" the Belgian man asked Carmen.

"I design blindfolds," she answered simply.

The ruins of Afamia were simple, but beautiful- as the early morning light filtered through the crowd cover, the columns stood strong in silhouette. We visited several small castles on the way to Crac des Chevaliers. Some looked tiny, their staunch bodies tightly fortified. Others had been used in the building of new towns, the old castle walls now providing sturdy foundations for modern housing.

Crac des Chevaliers itself was astounding, a massive complex of outer walls, inner sanctums, and a mix of Gothic and Romanesque details. Amazingly, we were the only people there; a small group of tourists in a vast and abandoned tourist site.

On the minibus ride back to Hamas, we discussed our onward travel plans. Carmen, the Danes and I were all planning on heading to Palmyra. The Belgian had already been.

"Palmyra is overrated," he stated dismissively.

"Oh, you would probably say that the pyramids are overrated," Carmen sighed.

"Yes- the pyramids are overrated," he responded.

Carmen leaned forward to my seat, and asked me how I was getting to Palmyra. "Perhaps we should travel together," she suggested.

Back at the hotel, we disbanded, Carmen and I setting up loose plans to meet in the morning. After dinner I returned to my hotel room; I switched on the tv, and found a channel showing English language programming. I settled in for an incongruous evening, watching Kindergarten Cop and revisiting the sights of the day in my head.

I woke up on Thanksgiving morning to find that Carmen had already departed, leaving me a note at reception. "I woke up early," it read, "but saw that the lights in your room were off, so I have gone ahead. Carmen."

I caught a taxi to the bus station, and caught a minibus to the transport hub of Homs. There, I caught a cab to from one bus station to another, and located the bus heading toward Palmyra. The inside of the bus was heavily decorated, with elaborate drapes, plastic fruit, and small painted cherubs. Two young boys sat at the drivers side; while we waited for bus to fill up, they asked me where I was from, and imitated the sound of bomber jets upon hearing my response.

Leaving Homs, the landscape abruptly transitioned from scrubby forest into harsh desert, the pines and craggy rocks thinning out as the horizon became a razor-edge of burning red sand.

Upon arriving in Palmyra, I located a cheap hotel at the edge of the ruins. After a short rest on one of the twin beds, I headed out to look around. As I walked through the lobby, the clerk stopped me, and handed me a slip of paper. Confused, I unfolded it.

"Ah, so we are staying at the same hotel! If you wish to have coffee in a Bedouin tent, meet me at 9 o' clock in front of the Hotel Zenobia. Carmen."

Palmyra, as it is called in English, is so named because it was founded at an oasis of Date Palms- also giving it its Arabic name, Tadmor, meaning place of dates. It was once the center of a vast trading network that stretched from China to Rome, and a cosmopolitan meeting place for disparate cultures.

Traveling in Syria gives one the sense of physically seeing the past, one layer piled upon another layer. Atop a distant hill sat a medieval castle, which looked down over the desert ruins below. The fragments of ancient Palmyra itself looked an odd cross of Egyptian and Roman- Western forms redone in a pale sandstone.

In the distance I saw two men talking; one was on foot, and the other sat astride a pure white camel. He approached me, and waved an arm to signal me hello. He introduced himself: he was Mahmoud, a Bedouin. He gave me his card, with his photo, cellphone, and fax. He offered his tours, and a homestay at his camp. I took the card, and told him that I would consider it for tomorrow, that I wasn't sure if I would stay in Palmyra for a second day.

I felt obliged to stay among the ruins until sunset, so I found an isolated spot and fixed my gaze on a distant pair of tombs. Nestled at the base of a hill, the two towers both had an unusual sloping form that made them look even more unreal than their setting already did.

Heading back into town, I looked around the main tourist drag for dinner, but found only empty dives decorated in Bedouin kitsch. Scanning them, I wondered which Bedouin tent Carmen wanted us to have coffee in. Each tourist diner had one, hoping to lure in visitors with their exotic florescent charm. Finding little that appealed to me, I bought a bag of dates, and headed back to my hotel room.

A few minutes before 9, I left my room and walked out to the Hotel Zenobia. It was so dark that all I could see was the faint silhouette of the ruins against the distant mountains.

I was wondering whether I should look inside the hotel when I saw her approaching, her bulbous down jacket looking so uneven on her thin legs.

Upon arriving, she explained to me that she had met a Bedouin man who had invited her for coffee, and she hadn't wanted to go alone.

"How did you know that I was staying in the same hotel as you?" I asked her as we waited.

She smiled coyly. "Haven't you ever heard of a woman's intuition?" She paused, and scanned the starry sky. "I saw your passport behind the front desk."

A motorbike puttered up the road, and into the drive. A handsome man with dark eyes stepped off the back, and the driver u-turned and headed back the way he came.

As he came nearer, I realized that it was Mahmoud- the man who had given me his card that afternoon. "Ah, Susan," the man said. She shot a look at me. "I'm glad you came."

We followed him through the darkened ruins back to his camp. Fragments of temples and shards of broken columns appeared out of the blackness, taking form as we grew near, and disappearing again as we walked further.

At his camp, we found three other men waiting for around a fire. Before taking us to join them, Mahmoud introduced us to his camels. He proudly introduced us to Zenobia, the white camel that I had seen him on earlier.

"She is a very special camel," Mahmoud told us. "My favorite. Very special to me."

"Because she's so beautiful?" I asked.

"Because she is so smart," he said, patting her on the neck.

The other men had prepared coffee for our arrival, and poured us each a cup as they warmly invited us to sit. The night air was already crisp, and the hot cup warmed my hands quickly. The coffee was thick, coarse and delicious, richly spiced with cardamom. From a distance, Zenobia and the other camels watched over our conversation.

"What do you do in Germany, Susan?" Mahmoud asked Carmen.

"I test drive speed boats," she answered simply.

Mahmoud impressed us with his language skills, offering phrases in German, Italian, Spanish, and French. He explained that while he had settled at Palmyra in order to make money off of the tourist trade, his parents were true Bedouins, who lived as nomads in the desert.

The evening grew late as we talked, and Carmen eventually indicated that we should head back to the hotel. We talked little as crossed the ruins again. She asked me my age, and raised her eyebrows exaggeratedly when I told her. "I could never have done what you're doing when I was your age," she said. She said that she was planning on staying in Palmyra another day. She wanted to see some of the further ruins, and perhaps to spend a night out in Mahmoud's camp. "Perhaps I'll see you around tomorrow," she said as we parted in the hotel hallway.

The next morning, I woke early and caught a bus heading toward Lebanon, leaving no notes behind.

Cafe 1912.

Hidden away behind the walls of the Alliance Française, Cafe 1912 offers the perfect respite from the hurried highways of Bangkok. With floor to ceiling windows shaded by a lush garden, it is a blend of sleek French design and urban tropical style. Bordeaux and I visited Cafe 1912 earlier this week, while running an errand in the neighborhood of Sathorn. There were two stations serving lunch: a cafeteria style counter serving hot European food, and a much more appealing bakery and espresso bar offering freshly baked breads, a wide range of pastries, coffees, and deli sandwiches. We each ordered sandwiches on baguettes: I ordered salmon, and Bordeaux ordered the grilled chicken. We savored them slowly, sipping strong lattes and listening to the murmur of francophonic conversation in the cafe.

There would have been no excuse for not trying the pastry, so since we were too full from lunch, we selected a chocolate roll and an apple danish, and took them in a to-go bag. We enjoyed the pastries later at home over coffee. While the apple pastry was delicious, and satisfied my craving for autumnal flavors, the chocolate roll was undoubtedly the winner, with dark, rich chocolate wrapped in a perfectly flaky croissant.

Bangkok coffee to-go.

In Bangkok, it's usually not hard to find coffee, especially if you aren't too picky; there's always a nearby stand offering iced brew. I'd had Thai iced coffee from numerous street stands before, but it had always been given to me in waxy paper cups. Some stands, however, offer it in a more novel form: poured directly into a plastic bag, straw inserted. In a bag, iced coffee appears even more refreshing, as beads of condensation line the plastic.
You generally have two coffee options at street stands: either they'll mix up some Nescafe, or serve you some of the rich brown brewed coffee from their silver pitchers. The latter option is obviously much tastier, particularly when mixed into a sweetened sludge with the condensed milk. And, when served in a plastic bag, it's the perfect to-go Thai coffee for a hot afternoon.

Fine Time Cafe.

Several weeks ago, on the way to Chinatown, Bordeaux and I noticed a beautiful, vacant building on the u-shaped end of a city block on Rama III road. As usual when we see a strange or charming vacant property, I told him that we should open a coffee shop in it. This past Saturday, while crossing through Chinatown on the way to the fabric market, we passed the same vacant u-shaped property. Only now, part of it had been sectioned off into a coffee shop called Fine Time Cafe. I was so shocked (did someone hear me last time? how did they put it in so quickly?), that we had to stop in for a coffee. Only twenty minutes later, while enjoying a vanilla moccacino, did I realize that we were actually on Thanon Maitri Chit, across the street from the empty space I had seen the first time.
But, I'm glad I made the mistake. Fine Time Cafe is a sweet little space, decorated to look a bit like a retro family rec room. Across from the coffee counter is a working record player, which, judging from the gold-hued album covers displayed on the wall above, seems to only play music from the 1970s: The Beegees, Andy Williams, the Carpenters. The shop is run by a very cute couple, who were extremely friendly, and wore coordinating aprons. And, best of all, the vanilla moccacinos Bordeaux and I ordered were delicious, creamy, and very cheap. I'd been hoping to find a relaxed, comfortable cafe in Bangkok, and while Fine Time Cafe isn't exactly in my neighborhood, it's definitely worth the trip.

Cafes of Vientiane

When we left for Laos, I was hoping that the rainy season would have passed through already. I imagined warm sunny weather, and clear blue skies perfect for photographing the city. My dream didn't last long. Within an hour of crossing the border, the gray sky released a torrent of pounding rain, setting the tone for our short visit. It actually wasn't such a bad thing. It turned out to be the perfect excuse for us to spend our time in Vientiane hanging out indoors, enjoying the many inviting cafes the capital has to offer.

Our first stop upon reaching the city center was at JoMa, a coffeeshop and bakery we'd be longing for since we last left Laos. We ordered two lattes, which were just as rich and creamy as we remembered. Bordeaux ordered a slice of smoked chicken pizza, which came on a home made crust and was flavored with a nice mix of peppers and onions. I ordered the tuna melt on rye, knowing it was the only place in Asia to satisfy my craving for my favorite comfort food. We grabbed a few issues of the Vientiane Times, and grabbed a table upstairs by the window. As we savored our coffee we watched the pouring rain and flooding streets, comfortable inside the sleek urban cafe.
As much as we were tempted, we decided not to spend our entire visit lounging inside JoMa. We decided to visit the Scandinavian Bakery, which we didn't get to during our last trip across Laos. It's alledgedly the most popular coffee shop in Vientiane, and I was curious to see whether it deserved that honor. We each ordered a mug of coffee, and we split a large chocolate muffin. The coffee was passable, but rather bland and a little too acidic. And despite have a small courtyard right across from the central fountain, I wasn't impressed by the atmosphere. The chocolate muffin, however, was rather good. It was topped with cashews, and sprinkled with confectioners sugar. It seemed at first as though it was going to be rather dry, but it became nicely soft and moist the closer to the center we got, and there was an unexpected center of strawberry jam. So while the coffee and the ambiance might not be deserving of a visit, the pastries alone might make it worth while.

For lunch on our last day we tried another cafe, Le Banneton. I was first drawn to it after seeing someone leaving the shop with armfuls of fresh, crusty sesame covered baguettes. The atmosphere inside was warm and inviting; with glowing yellow lights and dark wood furniture. There were a wide range of breads and pastries behind the counter, and some hip photographs of Lao people on the walls, creating a nice combination of European style and local flavor. Bordeaux ordered a grilled panini, made with curried chicken and apple. I had a rustic baguette sandwich, filled with an omelette, oyster mushrooms, and slices of potato. The bread used in our sandwiches was incredible, and the fillings were delicious; impressive in a city where Western food is rarely more than a passable imitation.

Not only does Vientiane have a wide range of European cafes and American coffee houses, but it also offers the chance to sample the local Lao coffee. This is brewed in metal pitchers, and served in short glasses with a thick layer of condensed milk at the bottom. I had tried Lao Coffee numerous times throughout my last visit, and had rarely been impressed. It was often too strong and bitter, turning into a bitter goo when stirred together with the condensed milk. Walking through the city center on our first day we passed a sweet looking foodstand that appeared to be quite popular. Seeing their boiling coffee pots, I became curious to give Lao coffee another try. We ordered two glasses, and took a seat at one of the plastic tables inside. Amazingly, the coffee was actually quite incredible. It had a smooth, rich texture, creamy like melted chocolate. The coffee brew itself was rich and strong, with hints of cocoa.

Despite the incredible range of cafes we'd found, and the others that we still hadn't tried, when it was time to leave, we made one last stop at JoMa. We got two last lattes and a few delicious pastries- the perfect treat to tide us over until we return.

Food and Coffee in HCMC.

Undoubtedly, Vietnamese foods is one of the things I will miss most about HCMC. As a vibrant, cosmopolitan city, HCMC offers a wide range of eating options, including upscale cafes and international restaurants. And while we ate in a number of restaurants in the city, the best dishes were found in cheap noodleshops and on street corner stalls. From warm dishes of pho (noodle soup with beef), to steamed pork buns, it was incredible how well we were able to eat for so cheaply.
We had one of our best meals on our last night in the city, at one of the many food stands set up next to the Ben Tanh market. The first thing that drew me to the stand was the abundance of fresh greens in their kitchen. Most of these were served along side the food, certain leaves adding spicy flavors and crisp textures to the meal. Thankfully, the food they made tasted just as fresh as the leafy greens they used to garnish the plates.
We first ordered a plate of nem (fresh springrolls), one of the most iconic of Vietnamese food. Inside the tight rolls were shrimp and a mix of green vegetables. The shrimp inside the rice-paper rolls still had their shells on; this is done to preserve the flavor of the shrimp, but I felt it also added a nice texture that contrasted with the soft rice-paper and fresh vegetables. I don't normally care much for shrimp, but I actually liked the flavor quite a lot. Alongside the springrolls, we ordered banh khoai- tasty little omelette/pancakes. They had a nicely singed exterior, and a tasty filling of shrimp and sprouts.
We were still feeling a little hungry, so we decided to try prawn on sugarcane. This was by far the highlight of our simple street meal. The prawn gently hugged the stalks of sugarcane, absorbing a little of the sweet flavor. In the first one I had, the sugar cane was soft enough to be eaten- which added a nice texture and a sweet flavor.
And of course, I can't end this entry without mentioning the coffee in HCMC. Vietnamese coffee is fairly well known- strong, thick and tasty brews served with an unhealthy layer of condensed milk to flavor it. My favorite thing about the coffee was the way that it was prepared and served in little tin filters- which I now regret not buying. HCMC had an incredible variety of coffeeshops, including a number of rather chic cafes around downtown. Most ubiquitous were the numerous branches of Highlands Coffee- it's a Vietnamese style Starbucks, which reminded me of Black Canyon coffee in Thailand. The best coffeeshop I visited was La Fenetre de Soleil, near the Ben Thanh market. It's a bit difficult to find- through a discreet doorway, up a tiny darkened staircase, and down a grungy hallway, moldy and glowing in florescent light. But the strange journey only makes the cafe all the more rewarding. It's a beautiful space, with tall windows, overstuffed couches, and an elegant salon atmosphere. The iced coffee I had was amazing, and the earl grey muffin I ordered was delicious. It was the perfect place to escape from the pounding motorbike traffic of the city.

Dining on the Mekong.

Unlike Thai food, which, thanks to Los Angeles' many fine Thai restaurants, I was familiar with, Lao food was completely unknown to me before my visit. Though some dishes in Laos were similar to food I'd had in Thailand, there were some notable differences. Lao food in general tends to be less spicy, and most subtly nuanced, with flavors balancing each other out.
One of the most noted legacies of the French occupation of Laos is the presence of the crusty baguettes sold just about everywhere. While the baguettes often come with meals at chic cafes and elegant restaurants, one of the best places to try them is at street-side stands. Foot long baguette sandwiches can be bought cheaply, and are surprisingly delicious. The bread is usually fresh, with a crisp crust and soft interior, and the sandwich is created with a seemingly strange mix of ingredients. Standard ingredients include cucumber, cold cuts, chili sauce, pate, and fish sauce (and for those who like it, dried pork flakes). The result is a sandwich that, like most Lao food, has a mix of nicely nuanced flavors and textures, with salty, spicy, and savory all delicately balanced.
There were an amazing variety of snacks for sale at the morning markets, from fried crickets to while grilled chickens. One cheap street-food treat that I loved were the tiny rice-porridge tarts that were sold at markets all around Laos. I haven't been able to find out what they're called, and I can only guess what they're made of. They're poured as a batter into a sectional griddle, toasted brown, and served straight off the griddle. They're eaten piping hot, the creamy center able to burn the roof of your mouth. They usually have the flavor of a pancake, with hints of spring onion in the center. In southern Laos, I bought a batch that was made with sweet corn, and served with a coating of white sugar.
Considering that Laos is basically a long parcel of land stretch across the Mekong, it makes sense that a lot of food should come from the river. One of my favorite river treats was a Luang Prabang speciality called khai paen, fried river-weed chips. Bordeaux and I tried them at a cheap riverside restaurant in Luang Prabang, looking out over the Mekong. The riverweed was served in large, thin squares, and were so dark green as to be almost black. They had a soft seaweed taste, which was complimented by a coating of toasted sesame seeds. Perhaps best of all, the chips were served with jeowbong, a Luang Prabang chili paste. Though not particularly hot (the paste is made with 1/3 chili and 2/3 sugar), the paste added a sharp spicy-sweet flavor.
We happened to be in Laos during the season for river prawns, and we would often see the huge, blue prawns cooling in ice at foodstalls around Vientiane. Despite not really caring for prawns, I was curious to try one. I bought one in Vientienne, from what is likely Laos' least convincing transsexual (as Bordeaux said, Lao trannies just don't try very hard). The prawn was grilled over coals until it turned deep red, the shell just toasting black. It was tasty and surprisingly meaty, though as said, I don't really care for prawns. So what's the point of my review?
But by far, my favorite riverine meals was mok pa, a fish curry steamed in banana leaf. We ordered it at guesthouse in the 4000 Islands, in the tropical south of Laos. The fish is cooked in the banana leaf, turning it into a paste like consistency that is soft, delicate and full of flavor. It had a melting texture, and a strong, fresh lemon grass flavor, with sharp hints of kaffir-lime leaves.
One of the things I was most curious to try (but found most disappointing) was Lao coffee. Unlike the hilltribe flavor of Thailand, which was naturally sweet and highly flavorful, most of the Lao coffee I had was too dark and bitter for my taste. While this is certainly due in part to the quality of the coffee beans themselves, it was likely in part a result of the way the coffee is prepared. Lao coffee is generally prepared in in a metal sieve, and then served in a small glass over an inch of condensed milk. Though occasionally it came out well, the bitterness and sweetness nicely mixing, it often was simply too bitter, and too mudlike. Certain Western style coffeeshops, most notably JoMa in Vientiane and Luang Prabang, used Lao coffee to make delicious, if not uniquely flavorful, lattes and americanos. Morning Glory, in Luang Prabang, served a nice Lao coffee in a french press, fitting of its euro-tropical cafe.

Hilltribe Coffee

Things weren't going too well in Chiang Mai. And then I had my first cup of locally grown hill tribe coffee. The flavor was rich, sweet and without bitterness, and with just the slightest hint of acidity. So good, I drank it without milk. Mmmm...

Sripoom.

Much better for a local cup of coffee is Sripoom, on Thanon Chakra Bonse. Located between touristy and studenty neighborhoods, the place gets an even mix of travelers and young locals. The interior is hip- with lots of gaudy colors and prints. Above the seats hangs a long black and white photograph of a Bangkok street-front, complete with traffic and the mess of telephone wires. The coffee is good, as they serve the best lattes I got in Bangkok. The drink menu at night might be even better- they serve a range of bright fruity cocktails themed to the pleasures of Bangkok.

Coffee in Bangkok.

One of the things I worried about when coming to Southeast Asia was the possible lack of good coffee. I've developed a pretty strong dependency, but aside from that, I love the taste of coffee, and getting coffee is among my favorite leisure activities. Thankfully, getting good coffee in Bangkok has not been a problem. The most common coffee in Bangkok is the Thai iced coffee, which can be found at cafes, restaurants, and stands located out on the street. Since seeking out good street-food is another hobby of mine, this is an added bonus. In some places, Thai iced coffee is served in a plastic bag, but so far I've only had it in tall generic paper cups. Thai iced coffee is incredibly sweet and rich, with a smooth texture resulting from the combination of sweetened and condensed milk mixed in with the coffee. The coffee itself is admittedly very weak, especially when thinned out and served over ice, but it's enough to meet my cravings, with the added bonus of soothing Bangkok's heat.
As Bangkok is an extremely cosmopolitan city, American Style lattes and European espressos are not hard to come by. There are numerous tourist coffee shops and student cafes that sell good coffee, and of course, the globally swelling Starbucks. When traveling in the Middle East, I developed the habit of going into Starbucks whenever I visited a new country. Coffee in the Middle East was amazing, so it wasn't out of lack- rather it was to see the ways that the American chain is adapted to fit into different climates. So far I've only see Starbucks in two areas in Bangkok- next to a McDonalds at the Western tourist oriented Khao San Road, and at the exclusive shopping malls of Siam. Bordeaux and I visited one at Siam Paragon, a label-heavy shopping center in Siam. The main draw for me was the posters outside, which showed frappucinos with one of my favorite flavors: red bean. They were surprisingly good- with the perfect offbeat redbean flavor, and vaguely nutty texture.

Bordeaux and I searched out Black Canyon Coffee, a Thai chain that's been competing locally with Starbucks. We finally found on, inside Siam Center shopping mall. The experience was a little disappointing. The menu seemed more oriented toward meals than coffee, and the very stylish interior of dark wood and polished metal was marred by tacky elements, like the bubbling fountain in the corner and the cheesy platitudes in the menu. Still, the coffee menu was extensive, and the latte was good, so I can see why Black Canyon Coffee has been able to compete with the global giant.

Editors Note: (October 14, 2007) I wrote this entry when I had been in Bangkok for less than a week, so I have a few corrections or qualifications. I've since grown a lot more fond of Black Canyon- most of the branches lack the oddly tacky elements of the location in the Siam Center. Furthermore, most outlets don't even offer food, so most places feature a menu geared primarily toward coffee drinks. I still have some reservations about them- they tend to favor really cheesy slogans and phrases in their marketing- but they make a number of delicious coffee drinks. As for Starbucks, there are branches all over the city- not just in the two neighborhoods I mentioned. And sadly, the red bean frappucino may have only been temporary.