Hot to Trot

A chef friend of mine once told me some of his customers pick off every bit of coriander and chili that they can find in their food before eating it. These people were not Westerners, or even Japanese; they were Thai. It turns out that, for a certain type of Thai, eating spicy won’t do — either their tastebuds are too delicate, softened by years of studying abroad, or they want to look like they’ve spent years abroad, stuffing their faces with Nobu and spaghetti aglio olio (Italian-style, without chilies). In a way, it’s like Thais and farangs have switched places, “Freaky Friday”-style: the Thais eschewing chilies, and every Mark Wiens-wannabe from the West diving into a plateful of them, head-first.

Spiciness has long had a political side to it. After all, it’s very well-associated with the food of the South and Northeast, Thailand’s poorest region. One theory about why those regions’ dishes are so spicy is that the spiciness of the side dishes necessitates eating more rice, which gets you fuller faster for less money. And if there’s one thing a true Bangkokian hates, it’s to look like you don’t have money. After all, these are the people who would rather drive to the end of the road, spending 1 hour in traffic, than to take a motorcycle or (horror of horrors!) walk.

To bring it all back to me (of course), I fit no one’s definition of a real Thai person. But after spending most of my life here, I can say that my spice tolerance has gotten quite high. This is not something that I’m trumpeting from every corner of my house, like a first-time v-logger to Bangkok; it’s just a fact of life. After decades in street-side eateries from Ubon Ratchathani to Phattalung, that’s just the way it goes. You would have this spice tolerance too, if you’ve eaten as much as I have.

Like dealing with annoying friends of friends, part of handling chilies is knowing how to tolerate them. I’ve watched “Hot Ones” and find that their efforts to mitigate spice are sophomoric at best. I’m lactose-intolerant, so the idea of chasing spicy hot sauce with milk is enough to make me want to barf. Water is almost as bad, spreading spice everywhere before softening it. I’ve found it’s best to simply use tannic, saliva-sapping herbs like cashew leaves, or fresh vegetables like cucumbers, white turmeric, Thai eggplants or even just fresh lettuce; in a pinch, a spoonful of sugar really does help it all go down (a waitress in Petchburi once saw me struggling with a plate of jungle curry and gave me kanom tako, or Thai coconut-and-pandan jelly, to “fight the heat”). Finally, there’s simply rice. Thai chilies tend to be sneaky, and their effects can sometimes be felt long after you thought it was over. This means that all of your efforts to mitigate them might come to naught in the end.

To put my newly acquired powers to “good”, I decided to try out the spiciest pad gapraos (holy basil stir-fries) in Bangkok. I enlisted the help of well-known noodle guru @adambeechinor, whom I stalk on Instagram for tips on where to eat ramen, Chinese noodles, and Thai guaythiew. However, it seems he has been expanding his expertise to all lunch food items, and that includes pad gaprao, Thailand’s unofficial national dish, available everywhere, eaten by everyone.

So besides the obvious, Phed Mark, there’s also the suddenly-trendy Gapao Tapae, and Adam’s suggestion, Little Chef in Udomsuk. Happily, all are available via various food delivery apps (Grab, Lineman, and Food Panda, respectively). Here’s how well I did with them:

1. Phed Mark

I spend a lot of time making fun of wagyu burgers and wagyu bolognese, but when it came to ordering a pad gaprao for myself from Phed Mark’s extensive protein menu, I was not immune to wagyu’s charms. At least I chose beef shin. And it was nice and tender.

The order comes with your choice of fish sauce with chilies and garlic, which seems ludicrous given that you’ve already got plenty of chilies and garlic in your gaprao. However, it’s helpful for seasoning the best part of this gaprao, which is the specially fried egg with lacy edges and jammy yolk intact.

As for the spice, well, yes, I did cry. My sinuses were completely cleared out by the time I finished my bowl. Did I stop eating? Of course not! And although I did spend the rest of the day with ron tong (the Thai word for “hot stomach”), it didn’t translate into the typical Thai ailment after overestimating one’s spice tolerance, otherwise known as “diarrhea” (the Thai term for this is tong duen, literally “walking stomach”, or “the trots”).

Would I try the level 10 as advertised on Tiktok? No way! I’m not Mark Wiens!

2. Gapao Tapae

This spot, which Adam says has developed into a kind of “hipster magnet”, has an item it calls “the spiciest gaprao in the world”, which is made with ghost pepper. It’s also listed as an “off-menu” item, even though it shows up on the menu on Lineman. In any case, this is how it looks in the packaging:

It comes with fish sauce with chilies and garlic, as well as your choice of soup with pickled plum and pork meatballs (for extra). The soup is absolutely delicious. And yes, it does help with the ghost pepper.

As for the gaprao itself, yes, its first “presentation”, shall we say, it unpleasant. It announces itself as something sharp and bitter, somewhat like a bully that enters the room with a loud voice and disagreeable demeanor. But once you plow through, the effect itself gets more and more muted, helped along by that wonderful soup. Once you finish, you’ll find that there’s very little that lingers; like a bully, the spice completely disappears once you’ve mastered the whole plate.

3. Little Chef (Sathu Pradit)

I had never heard of this place, but Adam assured me it was good, and that it offered a plethora of toppings. I assumed the toppings were the proteins for the stir-fry. Boy was I wrong. There are also actually “topping” toppings, like pickled bamboo shoots and other sliced proteins to go on top of your already existing proteins. Then there are the many choices for eggs, including preserved eggs and salted egg yolks, as well as an extra option for extra chili dips. That’s not even mentioning all the soup choices. I shit you not. The options are close to overwhelming, so I ended up ordering two different kapraos, much to the confusion of my housekeeper. I got the recommended crispy pork (moo grob) and pork liver, both at the “spitting fire” spice level, as well as the “recommended” gang jued.

If I thought I was going to end up being Drogon, spitting fire upon all my enemies, I was sorely mistaken. I finished both (of course) with little trouble and just a mild tingling sensation on my lips. I went about the rest of my day, went to bed, and woke up the next morning. I went to yoga class and sat down to get ready for practice. And that’s when my stomach said, “Ta da!” like a cheap birthday party magician. I was in pain. The waves came and went, so that I would be fooled into thinking it was over before it started up all over again. Would I get diarrhea, right there in yoga class? Would I have to use the bathroom downstairs and risk alienating everyone in the yoga studio? What to do? I had perhaps committed the gravest mistake of all: I did not realize that “spitting fire” referred to the other end.

What I can say is, Minh at Yogatique is an excellent teacher. We did box breathing and a bunch of moves aimed at cleansing out the liver and kidneys. I did not end up having to demolish their bathroom. And my stomach is fully back in commission. That said, would I repeat this exercise anytime in the near future? Maybe if I had plenty of time to myself, with no particular place to go. Thai chilies can be sneaky, after all.