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About Bangkok Glutton

Eating and writing in Bangkok.
by | 08/05/2010 · 3:54 pm

Markets: the Best of the Best

Nam prik at Aor Thor Kor

There is no “wet market” in Bangkok that comes close to “Aor Thor Kor” in terms of variety, quality, and cleanliness. This is probably why we brave the 40+-degree heat and washrag humidity to vie for the very best gaengs (curries) and pads (stir-fries) with scores of other helmet-haired matriarchs and their bag-laden drivers.

And it’s not just a place for stuffing your face and emptying your pockets. Markets are always the places I head for first when I travel. There is no better place to find out about a country than through its markets; no truer mirror to the aspirations of a people than their stomachs. Here at Aor Thor Kor (the Thai abbreviation for the market’s full name, the “Marketing Organization for Farmers Market”, or MOF), those hopes and aspirations come neatly wrapped in banana leaves, enclosed in pudgy plastic bags, garnished with a handful of deep-fried basil. 

But even in this nirvana of ready-made curries and coconutty sweets, there is a hierarchy — the creme de la creme. In this bewildering matrix of fried food and sifted spices, where to go? Below, the best of the best:

Just a fraction of Mae Malee's offerings

1. There is no gaeng (curry/soup) vendor better than Mae Malee Gaeng. In Bangkok, period. From the tried-and-true old favorites (green chicken and beef massaman curries) to regional specialties (gaeng thrai pla, or spicy Southern fish entrail stew, and the bitter, piquant stir-fried sator) to hard-to-find gems (like the veggie-heavy gaeng liang, meant for breast-feeding mothers) — Mae Malee has it all, a one-stop shop to covering every inch of your dinner table.

Mae Malee's steamed seafood curry

2. But it would be boring to live by Mae Malee alone. Sudjai Gai Yang is known across the country for is succulent grilled chicken — be it factory-raised or gai baan, referred to in English with the euphemism “traditional”, but better described as “free range” (of course, some Thais also refer to them as “scrawny”). There is no country that loves its poultry more.

Butterflied grilled chicken at Sudjai Gai Yang

 3. In a sea of nam prik (pounded pepper dip) vendors, Nawanporn nam prik gapi stands out (and a proper Thai doesn’t throw a dinner without some sort of nam prik). The namesake offering (shrimp paste pepper dip) is earthy, fresh, full of the deep bass note of flavor that leaves some in rhapsodies and others with a grimace. Funny how shrimp paste has become synonymous with Thai food; it was brought to Thailand centuries ago by the Chinese.

Grilled river fish, a perfect accompaniment to shrimp paste dip

4. Mae Prapaisri sells the best mango sticky rice in the market. Sure, it’s a well-loved treat known to anyone who has ever had a mouthful of pad thai, but there are circles within circles, differing degrees of excellence in an already excellent dish.  Here, the mango is always ripe and succulent, the rice glossy and firm, the coconut milk rich and robust.

A different dessert known as khao lam -- sticky rice stuffed in bamboo

5. For the very best of “old-style” Thai eating, look no further than the end of a Thai meal, where the food becomes its richest and sweetest. And the richest, sweetest dessert vendor of all is Gao Pi Nong, purveyor of all that is drenched in coconut milk, fashioned into eggy golden threads, stuffed with coconut custard, or boiled in rice flour.

Gao Pi Nong's black sticky rice with taro in coconut milk

And that’s it. Check out Aor Thor Kor and sample these wares for yourselves. Or find your own favorites. You won’t be disappointed. (Open 6-20.00 daily. MRT: Kampaeng Phet, BTS: Mo Chit).

More Aor Thor Kor fare

(Photos by @SpecialKRB)

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Filed under Asia, Bangkok, chicken, curries, dessert, food, food stalls, markets

by | 08/04/2010 · 5:19 pm

A Tale of Two Noodle Stands

Pork egg noodles, yum-style, without broth

 

It’s a tale of two noodle stands.

Actually, long ago, Rungrueang (Sukhumvit 26) used to be one stand. The Chinese-Thai proprietor served up bowls of steaming egg or rice “tom yum” noodles accompanied by a spicy, tom yum-style broth, slivers of fish “meatball” and plenty of seasoned, minced pork (when the noodles were ordered hang, or dry, with tom yum seasonings, they were simply called “yum”). Customers flocked by the hundreds every day. The noodle stand became known as a popular lunch spot for work-rumpled desk jockeys and high-haired housewives in the Sukhumvit area. 

Then, as is known to happen, the original proprietor died. His two sons took over the noodle stand, which expanded. And, as is known to happen, they quarreled. The noodle stand split in two, co-existing side-by-side, observing an unspoken cold war. A wall eventually sprouted up between the two shops.

This detente is basically how things stand today. There are two Rungrueangs: one, the original, on the left side, a little smaller than its sibling and marked by the original red sign. Interestingly enough, the son in charge is said to have red shirt sympathies, so it is strangely fitting. Since it is known as the original, diners “in the know” appear to favor it, and it is consistently full.

On the right side, a little bigger than its brother, the “new” Rungrueang is announced by a yellow, handwritten sign (a recent addition). And guess what? Yes, this brother leans to the yellow side. The noodles are EXACTLY THE SAME (it is the father’s recipe, after all). And, maybe because of this, it is also consistently full.

So that is the story of Rungrueang. Which, it turns out, ends up being a political story. And a sort of metaphor for Thailand. Yes, all that, dumped into a pink plastic bowl, engulfed in a spicy lemongrass broth, and drizzled with chopped peanuts, the way a proper bowl of minced pork tom yum noodles should be served.

 (Picture by @SpecialKRB)

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Filed under Asia, bamee, Bangkok, food, food stalls, noodles, pork, Thailand

by | 07/29/2010 · 11:12 am

The Bitter Person’s Yen Ta Fo

Pretty fly for a bitter guy

What is that saying again? When a door closes, a window cracks ever-so-slightly open? Oh, that’s not it? Maybe not in your case …

It’s the end of the summer holidays for me, and how better to mark this than a week full of (tearful) good-byes, (headache-inducing) family dramas, a panic-stricken rush to meet a (self-imposed but unbreakable) deadline, and a handful of (missed) career opportunities? Yay, this week! Frankly, it’s enough to send me rushing off to my kinesiologist. But not before I write this post. Because at least I. Have. This. Blog. Yes.

Maybe this is what the Noodle Nazi is thinking. What, you don’t know the Noodle Nazi? That’s what locals call him, naming him after the “Soup Nazi” from that Seinfeld episode (and whose restaurant was a few blocks away from my apartment in New York, when I lived there, eons ago). Here in Bangkok, there is a man hatched from the Soup Nazi’s own formidable mold, who runs a yen ta fo cart on most days on Saladaeng Soi 2. The shop/cart: JC Yen Ta Fo. The man: I don’t know. Hence the name “Noodle Nazi”.

Maybe his mother keeps pestering him about his daily schedule, and his editors aren’t interested in his story ideas. Maybe all his friends live abroad and he only gets to see them once a year. Maybe his snotty emails about Thai restaurants in five-star hotels are always being misinterpreted. And maybe he can’t find his kinesiologist’s number. In any case, when you meet up with him, you better know your order: sen mee or sen lek? With broth or without? And tell him fast, because there is a whole big backlog of customers waiting and the lunch hour rush is just around the corner, damnit!

Last time we were there, we were chastised for eating an order that did not rightfully belong to us (okay, maybe we deserved that one). But Noodle Nazi’s words earned the eternal enmity of my mother, who has become his sworn enemy and will never set foot on Saladaeng Soi 2 forevermore. As for me, well, I keep going back for the same old abuse. It’s eerily similar to being a freelance journalist. I am glad to fulfill this role for him. Because at least. He. Has. This. Noodle. Cart.

JC Yen Ta Fo, purveyor of excellent pink seafood noodles

The noodles themselves? Well, they may play a role in my going back as well. A bewitching mix of light soy sauce, lime juice, palm sugar and salted soybean paste, chunks of fried tofu, blanched morning glory, fish meatball and the occasional squid tentacle: what’s not to love when it comes to pink seafood noodles? And these come in perfect proportions, in every bowl! Always something to aspire to!

The excellence of these noodles inspires hope. Hope to keep on, keeping on. Hope to continue being me. While I lack the expertise to open my own noodle cart (unless there is demand for a spaghetti bolognese cart anytime soon), I can continue to set my fingers to this keyboard and type utter nonsense, railing against the insipid food served at Thai restaurants in five-star hotels, waiting for that window to crack open a little bit more.

(Pictures by @SpecialKRB)

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Filed under Asia, Bangkok, food, food stalls, noodles, seafood, Thailand