Author Archives: Bangkok Glutton

There is a reason why I have a rule about never, ever (and I mean never) reading stuff that I have been interviewed for, or watching myself on any program, or reading anything that could possibly mention my name. And it is because I do not want to get pissed off. But it’s too late now, because Dwight (@bkkfatty) brought my attention to an article in SCMP about, ostensibly, the Thai dining scene that I am not going to link to, because I am that pissed off. You can just Google it, Google is there for a reason. Also I am hungry because I only had an apple for breakfast.

This is all Dwight’s fault. LOL (sort of but not really I still love you Dwight).

The premise is that Thai food is now being taken over by fine dining restaurants, and street food is a thing of the past. I think that is the premise, but I stopped reading when a real estate person was interviewed. Nothing against the real estate person, I have friends who are real estate people, and my husband is a real estate person. But interviewing a real estate person about Thai street food is like asking this lady about Donald Trump:

What the story appears to be doing is setting up a conflict between street food and Thai fine dining. Like, you could either eat street food or you can eat at Paste and Bo.lan, but you can’t do both. Like street food has usurped the role of fine dining in Thailand, and that conventional wisdom frames street food as the pinnacle of Thai cuisine. This is a false equivalency.

No one is saying street food is the best that Thailand has to offer. Street food could never compete with Sorn or Saawaan, either for the investment involved in its making, or in its presentation or the time and thought spent in its creation. I don’t think there are any people who don’t welcome well-made Thai cuisine, be it organic, “farm-to-fork”, or expensive. As my friend Trude would say, the move from informal to formal is normal. Go crazy with the tasting menus. Feel free to grow your own dill and coriander. Break out the mason jars. No one is against that.

Street food is made by people in a hurry, for people in a hurry (unless, like Jay Fai, that becomes impossible, but that’s another story). It’s a bet on a vendor’s ability to make a couple of dishes well enough that they can feed their family off of it. And yes, when they do make it well enough, it becomes something that is passed down from generation to generation, and that becomes tradition. When it endures for long enough, it becomes imprinted in people’s memories and becomes a part of their childhoods and personal stories. That is what people mean when they think it’s the best. It does not mean it is the best expression of Thai cuisine. That is like saying Prince Street Pizza is the best restaurant in New York.

What this faux conflict between fine dining and street food ignores is that most Thai people can’t afford fine dining. That limiting options, in any way, not only cheats a whole bunch of people out of alternative ways of feeding oneself outside of a mall (run by a big-time real estate developer) or a convenience store (run by a big-time food company), but stifles the kind of creativity and entrepreneurship that has long fed Bangkok’s dining scene. Limiting options cuts down on the (very, very few) places where all segments of a highly stratified society can still mix, where they are all on equal footing (NOT at the mall). Limiting options means less avenues for the poor, who do not have the right last names or go to the right schools, to make a good living. If Jay Fai — the daughter of a mobile kua gai vendor — were to start out now, would she have thrived enough to buy up her own shophouse, hence escaping the current street food sweep? The problem with the street food ban is that it’s classist. It has nothing to do with food.

I have resigned myself to a future of eating noodles at food courts, but when it’s forced too soon at the expense of other people, and those other people are erased from a story that is basically theirs, it pisses me off. Of course, you can disregard what I say as someone who “profits” off of street food (55555555 all the 5s in the world). But there is still a space in Bangkok’s undeniably rich (HAH) and varied tapestry of food offerings to accommodate both ends of the Thai food spectrum, from R-Haan to non-prepackaged corporate sandwich options. To argue otherwise is disingenuous.

Crab with black pepper, curry leaves and dried shrimp at Crab House

Here are some controversial hot takes for you. One, Shawn Mendes is just not that good-looking. (Is he considered good-looking because he washes his hair, unlike Justin Bieber? This appears to be the sole criterion.) Two, the New England Patriots are cheaters. (It’s well-documented.) Three, open-air shophouses where all the cooking is done in front are still considered street food, both in terms of food and culinary tradition, according to me, a street food eater. And four, Malaysia has better street food than Singapore.

This could also be considered well-documented. A recent New York Times story on Malaysia and Singapore had enough burns to make me, an innocent bystander who considers both to be inferior to Thailand, want to write about it. Singapore is planning on petitioning UNESCO to recognize its street food as one of the cultural treasures of the world. But Malaysians are feeling salty about it. Take the opinion of Chee Kean, presumably of Malaysia, who tweets “I think they mean they want to protect their air-conditioned food court.” [fire emoji yikes]

In return, Singaporeans point to international arbiters of taste like Michelin to rub Malaysians’ nose in their relative lack of marketing savvy. “Perhaps this discussion can be carried out properly after a hawker stall in Malaysia achieves a Michelin star” says Coconuts Singapore, which, ok Coconuts lol.

I stopped reading after that because then it dawned on me Thailand was trying to be like Singapore and it was just too rich when Singapore said a successful petition would help “safeguard” their street food culture since everything is already in a mall and words mean nothing anymore. But I did not start out wanting to write about the death rattles of Thai street food. What I want to write about is Ipoh, where street food is still thriving.

Ipoh is about a two-and-a-half-hour drive north of Kuala Lumpur and home to a sizable Chinese community, hence its reputation for great food. The hills, water and soil of the area are said to produce the biggest, crunchiest and juiciest bean sprouts in the world. But it’s not all dim sum and beansprouts — busloads of foodies from KL and Penang hit the town every weekend to sample all the local dishes that they prefer to the renditions back home.

For example, you can get “black pepper crab” in KL and even, yes, in Singapore. But is it like this: unbearably fresh, shells caked in a breathtaking sludge of pounded black pepper and dried prawn, lit with a tinge of curry leaf, hiding sweet soft flesh within? I hate to say it, but the version at the Crab House (32, Laluan Perajurit 1, Taman Ipoh Timur, 012-565-7723)  is my favorite crab anywhere, even better than the freshly steamed swimmer crabs I can get beachside in Hua Hin, toes in the sand and a cold beer at my elbow. Sorry, Thailand.

The Crab House also does a “fish skin salad” — egg yolk-coated deep-fried skins piled high in a deep-fried nest of taro beside a pile of lightly dressed veggies — that is inexplicably popular amongst Malaysians. If you are feeling adventurous or just want to try something that has yet to translate to anywhere else, the Crab House is a good place to start.

We were made to pose this way

That’s not all I have to rave about. There was the aggressively smoky duck, honey-glazed to a delicate crisp and smelling of lychee wood, at Yuk Sou Hin at the Weil Hotel (the owner’s name spelled backwards).

There was also the fresh seafood at the well-named Lucky (266, Jalan Pasir Puteh, Taman Hoover, 05-255-7330). Fish head curry (with cockles, treated the way Thais treat fresh bird’s eye chilies), homemade fish balls, and the inevitable char kway teow (broad rice noodles wok-fried in soy sauce and garlic) finished off the meal.

Char kway teow

The next day was devoted almost exclusively to street food: open-air shophouses jam-packed with tables and plastic stools, around which were grouped various vendors offering a whole range of dishes: curry mee (spicier in Ipoh than its cousins in KL or Penang), chee cheong fun (flat rice noodle squares in chili paste), hakka mee (curly noodles with minced braised pork), deliciously fluffy kaya-stuffed pau (steamed dumplings) and of course, laksa. Unlike Penang, Ipoh does not have its own laksa, but the Penang version (touched with tamarind and garnished with a raft of fresh herbs and veggies) is extremely popular.

Chee cheong fun

Feeling as stuffed as a foie gras goose, I still managed to wolf down a few helpings of kaya toast (bread smeared with coconut jam and butter) because that stuff is manna from the gods.

Kaya toast at Dong@22 Hale Street

We finished off our trip at a banana leaf spot, which ended up being a lotus leaf place called Tamara’s (36, Persiaran Greenhill, 012-642-8821), offering both Sri Lankan and South Indian specialties.

Sri Lankan chicken curry at Tamara’s

Our hosts refused to partake in the especially Ipoh-ian dishes known as salted chicken (which I get, it’s like being forced to eat pad Thai in Bangkok), but we did get to sample it, along with the ubiquitous hor hee (fish soup noodles with fish won tons, meatballs and of course an avalanche of bean sprouts) at the home of local food celebrity SeeFoon Chan, who regularly writes her own food column on Ipoh cuisine for the Ipoh Echo.

The 73-year-old SeeFoon is a former model and beauty queen whose work as a journalist and in the hotel industry has taken her all over the world. Yet she has chosen to settle down in Ipoh, despite not even being an Ipoh native. She is, in fact, Singaporean. What she looks for most, she says, is authenticity, a quality that the food in Ipoh seems to have in spades. Fingers crossed it doesn’t change anytime soon.

Chili paste at Sri Trat, a Michelin Plate restaurant

I arrived super early in the morning, as the Park Hyatt was still setting up. Executive Chef Franck Detrait, already a little disheveled from his early morning tasks, smiles a little when I ask him what’s for dinner. “It’s a surprise,” he says and I laugh, but it won’t be a surprise to me, because I wasn’t invited …

… and that is exactly the absolute last time I mention this, I promise.

It’s the day of the Michelin Guide 2019 launch, the second of its kind in Thailand, expanded from the original Bangkok to include Phuket and Phang-Nga.  Dinner tonight is for 280 people and a five-course affair, which will end with a coffee mousse, a tidbit I managed to pry from the more gregarious pastry chef. Looking at me, breaking news. You got it here first.

A fish dish at Paste, a Michelin-starred restaurant

The focus of the celebration is the “little red book”, which has weathered its share of controversies since its inception in 1900 as a little motorist’s guide to decent restaurants and inns along the roads in France.  That hasn’t ended in Asia, where the idea of even having a Michelin guide has been questioned. Who are these people who will judge our food, went the familiar refrain, exacerbated by Michelin’s secrecy and committee of anonymous inspectors, features meant to keep the judging process sacrosanct but also frustratingly opaque. For example, one does not know where George R.R. Martin is in the “Winds of Winter’ writing process, aside from the hints gleaned from a few released chapters.  One can only guess, and in those guesses, allow one’s imagination to run rampant. Will we never see it at all? Will it be finished by a beleaguered editorial assistant working off of Post-it notes slapped to the side of a Vista PC? Will it be released in 50 years for our grandchildren to enjoy and then remake? No one knows these answers. Just like no one knows exactly who is making the decisions for who gets what in Thailand’s dining scene, but conspiracy theories and criticisms abound. And the results can change lives.

A caviar tapas plate at L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon

For Thailand, the most striking example of the power of the Michelin Guide is probably still Jay Fai, whose business changed overnight. After a year of adjusting to the increased queues and working hours — and scrutiny — Jay Fai now says she has her schedule down well enough that she can work non-stop from 2pm to 1am, 5 days a week (or more if the pu yai request it). In fact, she plans on expanding her menu to include the dishes she neglected for the past year in favor of omelette after omelette, such as her blanched white fish with veggies or her sukiyaki with homemade sauce. She has even adjusted well enough that she can take on side projects such as the pending cooperation with Thai Airways, where she has already tried out adapted iterations of her stir-fried crab in curry and drunken noodles in their gigantic kitchen.

A wok in motion at Jay Fai

It’s not just Jay Fai. Fried chicken noodle (guaythiew kua gai) vendor Nai Peng was practically saved by receiving a Michelin Plate award last year after gentrification decimated most of his Suan Luang neighborhood, and was awarded another Plate nod last night.

Nai Peng’s fried chicken noodles

New entrants to the guide are also hoping to haul in that Michelin largesse. They include first-time Michelin stars for Methavalai Sorndaeng (my grandpa’s fave, don’t forget the gratong tong or deep-fried pastry bags), R-Haan, Saawaan, Canvas, Ruean Panya, Sorn and Suan Thip (Chef Bee of Paste’s fave); a doubling of the Bib Gourmand ranks to include newbies like Thai sweets extraordinaire Kor Panich, Lai Rot (but only on Rama 6), and the dudes at 100 Mahaseth; and Plate newcomers like Sushi Masato, Jidori Cuisine Ken and my fave Thai-Chinese raconteur, Chef Jok of Jok’s Kitchen.

Chef Jok in his tiny kitchen with groupie

There’s also Phuket, where you see welcome names like La Gaetana, Thu Gub Khao and of course the ever-delicious Raya. Entrants from Phang-Nga look thin on the ground but that actually might be a good thing for now. And the street food sections in the guide look robust, although obviously I have some complaints (still no Chia duck noodles or Sainampung chicken noodles? Come on guys).

An oyster at Sornthong, a Michelin Plate restaurant

There are more women this year, which would make sense given that there are a total of 217 restaurants this year, up more than 81 over last year and with 10 new stars. This probably also makes sense given that Thai food makes up fully half of the cuisines in the 2019 guide. Still, need we single the female chefs apart for their own photo shoot to cries of “girl power” from the audience, a la the Asia’s 50 Best “Best Female Chef” award? Is this a European guy thing? It’s not like they are horses walking on their hind legs. Women have been cooking for at least as long as men. Hopefully soon, maybe even sooner than “Winds of Winter” come out, the recognition of talented female chefs will not be treated as such an anomaly.