eatingCULTURE/eaten: Kraw-coo-ka-pi.

One of the last things I ate before leaving Bangkok was one of the first things I ate when I got back-- kraw-coo-ka-pi (to use the spelling provided on their sign). In this salad, a pile of brown rice is topped with a diverse mix of ingredients: coriander, chopped chili, strips of egg, spring onion, shallots, little dried shrimp, candied pork sausage and whole dried chili. A well scooped bite is a mix of fresh, salty, sharp, and spicy, with a tiny hint of sweetness. As a dish, it neatly sums up what I love about Thai food, and what I missed while I was away: fresh, distinctive flavors are combined to startlingly delicious results.

An invitation to lunch.

Maybe it was a little premature to announce the return of regular entries... I'm sorry about the lack of blogging lately- a mix of too much work, miles of travelling, and too few precious minutes of internet access have left my blog trailing behind my life. We're currently in Trang province, where our work is taking us among a string of gorgeous islands. Our favorite island so far is Ko Libong-- it's the largest of the islands, but also one of the least visited. In fact, there are only three small guesthouses on a single beach-- the rest of the island is used for agriculture and rubber tapping. Even the beach with the guesthouses manages not to feel too commercial, as it's split right in the middle by a small village.

While walking past the village yesterday, we passed two boys picking coconuts from a tree. They stopped us, and directed us to watch as they chopped them open, then offered us each a drink. It was much tastier than other coconut juice I've had-- as fresh as possible, and still cooled by the shade of the tree. We gave them back the coconuts, and after they each enjoyed a drink, they hacked the coconuts in two. With a twist of the blade, the smaller boy created a spoon, and gave us a half to enjoy the tender coconut flesh.

On the way back through town later that afternoon, Bordeaux and I stopped at a general dealer's to get a drink. While we relaxed in the shade, we were joined by a man from the village, who was taking a break from working. He was building a new guesthouse, he explained-- pantomiming nailing, in case we didn't understand. After asking us the usual questions about where we were from, and where we were staying, he invited us to join him for lunch. We were each given a plate heaped with rice, and we served ourselves modest spoonfuls from the soup bowls. The first was a clear broth with chunks of beef, the other a spicy-sour curry of shellfish. Though it was a modest lunch, it was very tasty. And more than anything, it was a generous gesture on our host's part-- and it was certainly far more interesting than eating at our guesthouse. Finished, we thanked our host, who suggested we come back in 2009 to stay at his guesthouse. Hopefully we'll return to take him up on the offer.

A goodbye Phat Thai.

In the week before we left Thailand, Bordeaux and I made the conscious effort to get as much Thai food as we could. But since one of my favorite things about Thailand has been the incredible diversity of flavors and tastes, I decided not to order old stand-bys out of nostalgic value. Instead, I tried to order almost exclusively meals that I hadn't yet tried. And so, in my final 48 hours in Bangkok, I tasted a sour salad of pickled bamboo; savored a spicy red curry with stuffed squid; and dined on a flaky salad of crispy fried catfish topped with a green mango dressing. All were delicious, and reminded me of what an amazing country it is.

On my way out of the country, we stopped for one final meal at the Bangkok Airport's branch of the Mango Tree. Their abbreviated menu didn't offer a great variety, so I decided to go for their phat thai. Phat Thai is a dish that I almost never order in Thailand. I think there are a number of reasons for this- firstly, there are so many different amazing foods in Thailand, I don't have many things that often. But more to the point, ordering phat thai always seems like something to be slightly ashamed of- it's the most well known Thai food among foreigners, and one of the most commonly ordered. So to go into a Thai restaurant and order it makes me feel a little like I walked in and ordered a hamburger.

But when the plate was set in front of me, I was reminded of something: phat thai is really damn good. The salty noodles, crisp beansprouts, crunchy peanuts, tart lime juice, and potent chilli flakes make for an intensely Thai combination of textures and tastes. It's food like this that I tasted in Los Angeles that made me curious about Thailand in the first place.

So maybe there was a lesson waiting in that tasty noodle dish. That we can lose sight of even the best things in life, and that when things are wonderful it's easy to become jaded. We'll be returning to Bangkok at the end of August, and though we already know we won't be staying in Asia too much longer, I'll be sure not to take another bite for granted.

Durian shakes.

We're approaching the end of durian season in Bangkok, and soon the sidewalks will no longer be crowded with their giant, spiny shells. Though I was rather put off the first time I tried it, I've since developed a taste for it. So on the way home from the market, I picked up two pods of the durian's fruit.

On the way out of Cambodia, Bordeaux and I had picked up a copy of From Spiders to Water Lilies at the Phnom Penh airport. A cookbook from the chef's behind Romdeng restaurant, it features regional recipes from all over Cambodia. We bought the book partly for its beautiful photos and partly because Cambodian cookbooks are rather hard to come by, but I think neither of us expected what a great cookbook it would be. We've already more than half a dozen dishes from it: soups, curries, salads and stir-fries that have all come out brilliantly. One of the recipes that looked the most intriguing to me was for a durian shake. So when I got home, I blended the durian with palm sugar syrup, condensed milk and ice, and made two durian shakes.

It was perfect. Somehow, the shake emphasized only the best aspects of durian: its smooth texture and sweet creamy flavor, with only the slightest undertone of an overripeness, which gave it a subtle complexity. Anyone want to try?

Neighborhood market.

Now that we're not working full-time anymore, Bordeaux and I have been able to more fully explore our neighborhood. One of the best spots nearby is the local wet market, where we've started going to do most of our shopping. Shopping at the grocery store was often a vaguely frustrating experience, as even groceries in Bangkok seemed not to stock the things we needed to cook Southeast Asian food. But at the market, we never have problems finding turmeric root, sawtooth coriander or lotus stems, as there are mountains of fresh local vegetables and herbs.

But perhaps the best thing about the market is the fruit. Tempted by the piles of colorful, cheap fruit, we often have the problem of wanting to bring home too much. We returned from the market yesterday with a papaya, two chunks of durian, a dragonfruit, a bushel of lychees, some egg bananas, and a huge bag of furry rambutans (below), which are currently in season- and only 15 baht (50 cents) a kilo.

100 pots of curry.

The Mon people who live along Thailand's border with Burma are known for making a greater variety of curry than any other group in the country. One of the most well known places to sample a few is in the town of Thong Pha Poom, a quiet stopping point for buses and trucks travelling between Kanchanaburi and Sangklaburi. Just outside of town, along route 323, is the highway-side shop named Rawy Maw, meaning One-hundred Pots. On our visit, they were just short of 100 pots- they had about thirteen. We ordered two plates, and the proprietress spooned heaps of different curries onto the two mounds of rice. Thanks to a basic vocabulary of Thai food words, we were able to pick out an interesting selection. We tried fiery red curry with fish; yellow chicken curry with hot basil and tiny egpplants; a chunky paneang curry with pork; sour curry with pickled bamboo; and a green curry laden with sliced chillies. Though the meal was tasty, admittedly no curry was outstanding or exceptional. Even so, it was interesting to see what a range of flavors, textures and tastes curries can have.

Lunch over a lotus pond.

For my sister's visit, Bordeaux and I made our first trip to Southern Thailand. We arrived at the Krabi airport in the early afternoon, and after lunch at a Muslim canteen in town, caught a taxi out to our resort. Along the road, we traveled among craggy vine-entangled karsts and overgrown forest. I was enthralled by the passing greenery. I had come to Krabi expecting sparkling beaches and blue tide; I hadn't come expecting jungle.
Once unpacked, we gave in completely to relaxation. I'm usually an overly active traveler, but after two intense weeks in Vietnam, it felt great to just chill out. We spent most of our days by the beach or in the pool, and when meals rolled around we didn't feel like walking very far. Thankfully, there was a decent selection of places, even on our small beach. After reviewing menus, we found a particularly good restaurant at the Tubkaek Resort. Aside from the extensive list of tropical cocktails, we were drawn by the skillful kitchen, who served an interesting Thai menu that included a number of local Southern specialties. For one lunch, we ate tasty Hokkien noodles, and a spicy Krabi-style chicken with sticky rice and papaya salad. But as delicious as the food was, it was outshone by the lush tropical environment. Meals were served on a wood platform over a lotus pond, and the surrounded garden was landscaped with fiery red ginger, yellow-green banana trees, and dripping turquoise palms.

Welcomed back by the spices of Bangkok.

While walking past my local morning market on my first day back in Bangkok, I was woken by the scent of chili, star anise, lemongrass, and sweet Thai coffee. Perhaps it was simply because I had been gone for so long, but the air seemed to be more filled with delicious fragrances and spices than ever. In a single breath it reminded me of how exciting and exotic the city I live in is. If it was partly the delicious Vietnamese food that lured me into loving Hanoi, it was perfectly fitting that it was the food of Thailand that welcomed me home to Bangkok.

Bangkok Tourists: Exotic Silom.

As a Valentine's Day gift, Bordeaux booked a night for us at a hotel in Silom, a stylish urban neighborhood near the city center. It's an area that we both like, and one that we thought we knew well. Yet spending the night there revealed a different side to the streets of Silom.

Bordeaux had booked a room for us at the Luxx, a boutique hotel on a leafy soi off of Silom. The stylish room was perfect for our night away. A huge bed with crisp cool white sheets, refreshingly spare decor, and a wooden bathtub with a rain shower.

In search of lunch, we came across a Hindu temple that we had never seen before. The air around the temple smelled sweetly of incense, and the sidewalks were crowded with tables of offerings, garlands, and lottery tickets. Down the street we visited the Kathmandu Gallery, which was showing a mix of work by some very witty Thai artists.

For lunch, we ate at a hole in the wallacross from the temple called Khrua Aroy Aroy. It's a popular little curry house, with a long lunch counter at the front of a small tiled room. Their greasy laminated menus show a mix of Thai regional dishes, from massaman curry to khanom jeen. I ordered the khao soi, a Northern Thai style curry dish that's somewhat difficult to find in Bangkok. The soft chicken and rich spicy broth were piled with delicious crispy noodles; seasoned with onions and pickled vegetables, it was an incredibly tasty dish.

After lunch, picked up sweets at a nearby Indian bakery, and set out to explore the neighborhood. We wandered around the busy sois of the neighborhood. Up Silom Soi 20, we found a busy market, where citrus tinted fruits were stacked in piles. A woman flagged us down, trying to get us to buy Thai gay magazines, but we politely declined.

After a rest and a coffee, we went out for dinner at Eat Me, a chic restaurant and gallery. Set back from Thanon Convent in a palm shrouded compound, the atmosphere at Eat Me was seductively tropical. We sat on a long patio balcony, where jungle leaves cast shadows across bare concrete walls, and black fans swirled the air above every table. Over a long and leisurely evening, we had a lavish spread of dishes: duck spring rolls, herb braised fish, salmon and tarragon, which we paired with exotic cocktails. The highlight of the meal for me was perhaps the dessert, three scoops of creamy ice cream in spicy flavors: a refreshing milky lemongrass, a fiery ginger, and a potent chili vanilla.

A solid night's sleep was followed by breakfast, which was brought to the bed on wooden trays.

Silom is a neighborhood that I enjoy, but not one that I often think of as being particularly exotic. Exploring the alleyways and hidden corners of the neighborhood revealed that side to me. In a way, Silom has got it exactly right: it's stylish and hip, but refreshingly tropical. It offers cosmopolitan charms, while still harboring delicious Thai flavors. It's the combination that makes Bangkok the amazing city that it is.

Bangkok Snapshot: Abandoned Fruitstand.

During the day, mobile fruit stands offer chilled refreshment from the steaming streets of Bangkok. At night, they appear as strange lanterns, the icy glass boxes glowing in the hues of tropical fruit.

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Editor's Note: I wanted to mention that I am also providing writing and photography for a local blog, called My BKK. It focuses on the eccentricity of life in Bangkok, which is a nearly inexhuaustable subject. The entries take a similar format to my "Bangkok Snapshots," and focus on all aspects of daily culture in the Thai capital.

I would also like to thank Write to Travel, for featuring me as the Travelblog of the Week. I'm always surprised to find that anyone other than my boyfriend actually looks at this blog, so I was thrilled by the honor.

Bangkok tourists: Phra Arthit.

Tourists get a pretty bad rap. They're considered ignorant, out of place, careless. And I'll admit- when I'm on the skytrain and I hear some tourists complaining about how dirty Bangkok is, or how backwards Thailand is, I get pretty annoyed. But being a tourist can have its virtues. In mid-January, Bordeaux and I got a day off of work for Teacher's Day. Since it was a Wednesday, we couldn't use it as an excuse to get out of the city. Instead, we decided to become tourists in our own city, and to take a Bangkok mini-break. For our destination, we visit the relaxed and funky neighborhood around Soi Rambutree and Phra Arthit, where tourists and Thai students mix in cafes and bars. It's the area where I stayed when I first came to Bangkok, and the place where I began to realize how beautiful the city is. It was a wonderful opportunity to act like tourists, and enjoy the simple exotic pleasures of our tropical home.

After checking into our favorite guest-house off Soi Rambutree, we headed for coffee on Phra Arthit. It's one of my favorite streets in Bangkok: lined with fig trees, and curving between hip art cafes and the churning Chao Phraya. There are so many good coffeeshops on Phra Arthit, picking one is always a difficult choice. We considered On Art and Coffee and More, but in the end chose Ann Sweet, a small cakeshop we hadn't visited before. We savored lattes on the sidewalk as the sun set, sketching and reading as the light faded from the whitewashed walls of the nearby fort.

For dinner, we ate at Rakk. I had eaten there on my first day in Bangkok back in June; they served me one of the spiciest, most delicious green curries I've ever eaten. We opted for that again, but in a playful fusion dish of green curry spaghetti. Though not nearly as spicy as my first curry, it was still very tasty. The more exciting half of the meal was a fried fish in Thai herbs. The crispy white fish was covered in lemongrass, chili, banana flower, and peanuts, and garnished with fresh mint. The combination of crisp produce and crunchy fish was perfect, and brought alive with the spicy flavors of the Thai herbs.

At night, we soaked up the touristy atmosphere around Soi Rambutree. We browsed at tacky t-shirt shops, and bought a few cheap souvenirs. We stopped for strong cocktails at Sripoom, a funky student bar with an extensive list of tropical cocktails. Afterwards we stopped for dessert on the street, where we ordered a rich, greasy banana pancake.

In the morning we went for breakfast at Ricky's, a popular backpackers cafe. The extensive menu has delicious breakfasts and sandwiches (I've never tried their Thai or Mexican dishes), served in a tiny two story building themed to a early 20th century Chinese shophouse. Since our last visit, they'd expanded into a neighboring space: though not as intimate, it carried the theme, with dark wood, red silk lanterns, and faded Chinese advertising posters. They serve some of the most amazing muesli I've ever had- crunchy oats flecked with sesame seeds and coconut, and always served with a delicious mix of tropical fruit- but this time I opted for the banana french toast. Thankfully, it wasn't a misstep. The thick, battered slices of bread were delicious, with a sweet creamy banana coating. It paired perfectly with their rich, flavorful coffee.

Before heading back to our normal life in Bangkok, we stopped at the colorful smoothie stand on Phra Arthit. We'd seen them before, and always felt tempted by their display of glistening fruit. Bordeaux got a mix of tropical produce, but I opted instead for a simple mango smoothie. Though the getaway was intended for us to feel like tourists, it had reminded me of how lucky I am to be a local here. Our night on Phra Arthit reminded me of what a great city I live in, how charming, exciting, cosmopolitan, and exotic it is. The creamy mango smoothie was the perfect tropical endnote.

Cakes for Chinese New Year's.

The cool season in Thailand has scratched by this year with little rain, but surprisingly warm days. The effects were starting to get to me. Dust caked to the sidewalk, pollution layered on buildings like thin coats of gray paint. Early last week, a cool moist wind curled into the city and thankfully it carried rain. The first pelting drops of drizzle washed away the grime and dirt, and revealed the beautiful Bangkok underneath. In the faint purple mist, the city came alive in technicolor: waxy tropical leaves dripped dark green, traffic lights bled crimson on the slick tar-black roads. In this city of candy colors, I stumbled upon a temporary cake factory on my daily commute.

I pass by the Khlong Toei market on the way to and from school five days a week. As I've written before, it's often a good spot for strange sightings. But I had never seen anything like this. Ordinarily, there are a number of different stands, operating fairly distinctly: someone selling women's fashions, another with piles of marigold offerings, a small team dishing out plates of curry to waiting customers. But on Monday, it appeared that everyone was working together, operating like pieces of a machine. Children folded rose colored tissue paper into bamboo baskets; women tipped long ladles, overflowing with creamy white batter; marathon lifters transported them over to metal steamers, where another man waited for them to bake; after an old man fanned them cool, a small team packed them up in boxes and cherry-red plastic and sold them to the line of waiting customers. The result: fragrant banana cakes for Chinese New Year's.

It would have been ridiculous to admire this whole process without taking some home, so I bought one each for Bordeaux and I to enjoy at home. The spongy white cakes were a friendly welcome into the New Year.

Sand-vendors on Ko Samet.

One of the most distinctive aspects of life in Thailand is that food is present in all public spaces. So it was no surprise that the beaches of Ko Samet had their own street food vendors. But rather than pushing carts or peddling wagons, these men and women marched the shore line with bamboo baskets balanced across their shoulders.

In the morning, vendors carried baskets with crispy grilled chicken and delicately balanced hard boiled eggs. For a slightly less healthy breakfast, some of the vendors walked around with baskets heaped with sugary pastries and jelly-filled donuts.

In the afternoon, vendors made noodle dishes and spicy salads. After being beckoned from a bar table or from under a sun umbrella, these traveling chefs would lower down to the sand and quickly prepare a meal. Their baskets were like tiny, traveling kitchens, loaded with jars of fresh ingredients and a range of utensils for cutting, mixing, and pounding.

Not all vendors trudging the white sand were selling food, however. I had thought it odd that there were no souvenir stands on Ko Samet- so it made sense that a walking vendor would try to fill that gap. This one sold simple Thai instruments.

Five Plates of Yellow Crab Curry.

Since coming to Southeast Asia, I've been introduced to many new flavors and exciting dishes. As a result, the position of "favorite food" has gone through a lot of contenders. Massaman curry, haw mok, meang kham, dragonfruit, and squid with cashew nut have all held the top spot. My current favorite food is poo phat phong karii, yellow crab curry. It's an unbelievably tasty dish, and with its roots in Chinese cooking and Indian ingredients, it perfectly reflects Southeast Asia's diverse influences. Unlike most Thai curries, this dish uses curry powder- the result is a slightly lighter, though still rich dish.

1. I ate my first bowl of yellow crab curry for dinner on my 25th birthday, perhaps foreshadowing to the degree to which I would grow to love this dish. I was in Phnom Penh, and my boyfriend took me to the FCC for dinner. Though delicious, the dish didn't immediately get me hooked. The emphasis on their version (pictured at top of page) was more on the spicy leaves, which to some degree dominated the flavor of the meal.

2. My second dish came just a few weeks ago, at our beach-side hotel in Prachuap Khiri Khan. We had initially shrugged off the idea of eating dinner at our guesthouse, but once on the beach we decided that it might just be the easiest way to relax. The hotel's manager arranged for dinner to be delivered from a nearby restaurant, and when we arrived at the dinner table we were amazed by the spread. There was a whole crispy fried fish, a rich and spicy tom yum koong, a sweet and savory seafood stir-fryed cashew nuts, and a platter of yellow crab curry. Everything was delicious- the tum yum koong was the most flavorful I've ever had, and the seafood stir-fry had a number of creative ingredients, like sweet dates and crisp water chestnuts. But it was the yellow crab curry that left me stunned- fitting, since Prachuap Khiri Khan is famous for their crab.


3. A few weeks later, Bordeaux took me for Sunday lunch at a dark corner restaurant here in Bangkok. The dish (pictured above) wasn't much to look at, but it was extremely rich and flavorful, with more emphasis on the curry sauce than on the flavor of the vegetables.

4. Some friends of Bordeaux's came to town, and for dinner they decided to go to the Mango Tree- an attractive outdoor restaurant near Silom that caters to a mix of gay and straight tourists. The tables were strewn around an open house and a large garden, which was cluttered with Thai antiques. After reading some reviews of the restaurant online that stated that the kitchen staff tone down the spiciness of their dishes, I had come prepared for bland food and high prices. The prices were certainly high, but thankfully the food wasn't bland at all. The huge menu had a wide range of interesting Thai dishes- and though I came close to ordering a salad that was within my teacher's salary range, thankfully I eventually splurged on the yellow crab curry. The dish was unbelievable- by far the best I've had. The crab was tender, and the herbs and Chinese celery added a nice sharp note to the otherwise creamy curry.

5. The next day, I was looking for lunch on a market soi near my school when I came across a large pot of yellow crab curry (pictured below). The dish looked beautiful: red-and-white pebbled crabs and fresh vegetables, bathed in a creamy yellow sauce. The flavor, however, was unbelievably bland. To some degree, I was relieved- I might have had some regret had I paid several times more for the same dish the night before. Though I think finding a cheap, delicious yellow crab with curry three minutes walk from my schol would have made up for that.

Anyone else know where I can get a good dish of yellow crab curry?

Bangkok Snapshot: Curbside jack-fruit.

One of the more surreal aspects of passing a major produce market on the route to work is the unexpected appearance of a mountain of primeval fruit in an otherwise conventional setting.

Sampling the savory flavors of Petchaburi.

The train from Bangkok to Petchaburi was slow and dragging. It left the Hua Lamphong Station almost forty minutes late; and once on its way, the train made no efforts to hurry as it casually glided out of the capital. Even so, the journey was beautiful. Out of Bangkok, we passed through groves of coconut palms and wooden houses perched over reed-choked canals. We stopped briefly at small town stations, where the tracks were hugged by busy market stands. We were sheltered in tunnels of jungle growth, and cut through expanses of rice paddies hemmed in by distant jutting hills. By the time our train finally rattled into the station, dusk was beginning to settle on Petchaburi; the sunlight cast on the hillside temples starting to glow a pale orange.

The three of us (Bordeaux, our friend Tim, and I) climbed into the back of a pick-up tuk tuk, and made our way across town to the Rabieng Guest House. At first glance, it looked ideal: a thin leafy alley lead onto the teak veranda of an old river house. But the rooms were less appealing- dark cells with sunken mattresses, swarms of mosquitoes listlessly swimming in the sticky trapped air. We crossed the bridge to the nearest guesthouse, the Chom Khlao hotel. While their lobby was a chaotic mess of mismatched furniture and motorbike parts, the rooms were surprisingly pleasant. Though the bathrooms were basic and the furnishings rather worn, the high ceilings and tall windows gave the rooms a sun-soaked appearance, and the room's pale blue doors opened to look out over the Petchaburi river.

The town of Petchaburi is dominated by the spires of its temples; they look down the town from hilltops, and rise out over the city’s rooftops. As the light seeped from the dark sky, we set out to look around town. We had time to visit only one temple, Wat Yai Suwannaram; in the fading purple twilight, we were barely able to make out the ornate features of the temple.

In search of dinner, we walked around the city's market, but found only a few forlorn roti stands and a cluster of unappealing noodle shops. We followed Bordeaux’s instinct until we came across a baby elephant being lead by it’s mahout; it in turn pointed us to the busy night market. There were numerous stands, offering simmering pots of curry, oily fried noodles, and of course, the famous Petchaburi sweets. We had no trouble putting together an impressive spread for dinner: a bowl of rich massaman curry, a deliciously fresh papaya salad, and a particularly flavorful haw mok (pictured above). Unlike most haw mok I’ve had, whose steamed fish custard was fragrantly seasoned with kaffir lime leaves and lemongrass, this one used strips of chili to give it a fiery, spicy burn.

The next morning, we found the town’s market much more active. Old ladies filled their shopping bags with fresh greens and recently butchered meat, and the local men gathered at corner coffee shops. We put together an ad hoc breakfast as we browsed. We stopped for rich Thai coffee, where we were treated to a plate of oily Chinese donuts. Attracted by the scent of fragrant charcoal smoke, Tim ordered some delicious marinated grilled chicken. Bordeaux stood in line for a bowl of johk (rice porridge). As we waited, we chatted with a Thai woman who had lived in Reno, Nevada. She told us that the first time she visited Las Vegas, she was so excited to see it that she got a speeding ticket. Just before she left on her motorbike, bag of porridge in hand, she told us that this stand was famous for having the best johk in town. When we finally tried ours, and tasted the savory hot porridge, we had to agree.