This is not AI

I recently read that a telltale sign of something written by AI is the inclusion of em dashes and colons — essentially, the way that I write. I am pretty sure that people (person) who have been here a while would never accuse me of resorting to ChatGPT, but I still want to explain to you why I write the way I write.

I’m no musician (obviously), but words to me are the melody. Punctuation marks are the percussion. One of my favorite percussionists is Stewart Copeland of the Police, and I like him because he is always surprising you with something that he does, even if it’s on a fairly simple song like “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic” — a song I am fairly sure has been ruined by a romcom scene somewhere involving Nicole Kidman walking across the street or something.

But that is neither here nor there. I like my punctuation marks; I think they add texture. I hate commas that appear in the middle of a sentence that should be two sentences, that is just so irritating to me. I want to surprise … even if it’s not exactly right. If that’s how ChatGPT also wants to express itself, that’s out of my control. In fact, someone quite gleefully informed me a few months ago that ChatGPT can already write exactly like me, and that my services are no longer really needed. So there’s that.

But can ChatGPT do this transition? Meaning: there are the original and ChatGPT versions of food, too. In this case, I’m talking about noodles. Tom yum egg noodles, in fact.

I’ve written about Rungrueang before. There was once one noodle shop, which eventually morphed into two competing (but related) rivals. For whatever reason, both my family and my husband’s family simply favored the right-hand side shop, for no reason other than force of habit. The assumption was that they were both working off of the same original recipe. This remained the assumption until I revisited a couple of weeks ago.

The left hand shop has expanded to across the street, soon after it was awarded a Michelin Bib Gourmand. For that reason, it is considered the “superior” noodle shop, though both are packed at lunchtime. All of the hallmarks of the Michelin Bib Gourmand stop are there: diners lugging suitcases on their way to/from the airport, tense queues full of gimlet-eyed customers, harried waitstaff. To make things easier, there are the dreaded laminated menus (something I used to dread, but which are now at all the street food shops I used to champion). They make ordering easier, it’s true. My husband and I both ordered the tom yum noodles ruammitr (with everything) in broth, and the pork meatballs in broth on the side.

There is a tendency in Thai food to “specialize” one’s own dish with one’s own particular seasonings. My father was a big tinkerer who loved to make his own sauces with whatever he found on the table. You’ll also see it in big Thai group tours to a Western country, where “nam prik”, chili powder and Maggi sauce are employed with impunity. As a result, I have a few (posh) friends who refuse to season their own Western dishes, since this type of flavor customization is such a Thai trait. I believe that noodle shops are the reason why Thais are so free with seasoning things to suit their own palates.

But the “right shop” noodles come already seasoned. I added some pickled chilies because I am stubborn and need to do something, but it wasn’t really needed. The noodles are already salty and a bit sweet. The reason for this, I imagine, is because so many non-Thais are eating there, and they do not have that ingrained desire to mess around with everything. These noodles are meant for them.

To be fair, my husband and I ordered the exact same thing at the right-hand shop: bamee tom yum nam and luk chin moo. There were already differences on the (also laminated) menu, with a couple more side dishes than at the other shop. When the broth arrived, it had the addition of lettuce leaves to make it sweeter, a sort of (now) old-fashioned flourish. And the noodles were definitely made with the Thai predilection for tinkering in mind. I added fish sauce, lime juice, pickled peppers, and a little sugar. I found it more delicious, if only because I felt like I had a part in making it myself. Isn’t that why all Thais do this to noodles?

So which one is the ChatGPT and which one is the original? I leave that up to you. Time changes all of us, and progress renders us all obsolete in one way or another. Happily for the Thai noodle vendor, the making of good guay thiew has yet to become fully automated. Until then, we should celebrate every bowl that finds its way to us, already seasoned or not.