Category Archives: chicken

Super chicken

The famous "gai super" at New Tiem Song

The famous “gai super” at New Tiem Song

There are a few things that I absolutely will not do, not even while in the pursuit of the culinarily fabulous. One of those things is eating with my hands. I absolutely loathe it. This is particularly strange for me, since a lot of Northern Thai and Isaan food involves sticky rice, which typically includes eating with one’s hands. The rice is rolled up into a little ball with the fingers and used to mop up whatever chili dip, soup or protein there is on your plate in a swift, neat little action called pun khao. The unfortunate thing about this is that all the crap that is on your hands — imaginary or real — ends up in your mouth. And that is really gross.

I know you are thinking, why don’t you wash your hands first then? which is something I do already. Or you could be thinking, but you stuff your face with potato chips and hot wings all day long, and aren’t bitching and moaning about getting your icky hand grossness all up in those tortilla chips heaving with guacamole. And this is true, mom! But it’s not the same as getting soft, soppy stuff all over your fingers. So, sorry Ethiopian restaurants and banana leaf curry stands.  I will never eat you the way you are meant to be eaten. I will always be asking for a spoon and fork. Because that is the way people should eat everything, always (except for potato chips, hot wings and tortilla chips with guacamole).

I like offal meats. You could even say I seek them out. I love kidneys, and sweetbreads, and liver, and grilled chicken gizzards sprinkled with sea salt. I don’t even mind brains, if they are battered and deep-fried, or grilled in a banana leaf. I enjoy shirako with ponzu sauce and a scattering of sliced chive, and I think a cube or two of congealed pig or chicken blood is the perfect touch for a great Thai noodle dish. That kind of thing doesn’t bother me at all.

Except when it comes to feet. Or anything with bones, pits or seeds in them, really. Because if I loathe eating with my hands, I absolutely HATE spitting anything out of my mouth. This is why I don’t eat mangosteens, and why I stay away from grapes, unless they’re seedless. The thought of regurgitating some little something that has to sit there as a reminder of all your salivary grossness is just unbearably vile to me. I would just rather swallow these things, if I can. This is probably why fishbones are so infuriating.

So chicken feet is a no-fly zone for me. It’s a shame, because the most important men in my life — Antonio Brown and Troy Polamalu (haha, jk) — really love them. It’s a street food dish called gai super (“super chicken”) which, when I first heard it, made me really excited because I thought it referred to either chicken wings or some sort of crispy, boneless chicken part, like deep-fried cartilage. Alas, it is a stewed mass of splayed, spidery chicken legs, plonked into a broth simmered from their cooking and accompanied by a mash of bird’s eye chilies.

Just another look at the same dish

Just another look at the same dish

The meat is supposed to be coaxed gently from the bones via the gentle suction usually meant for a milkshake through a straw, but HELL NAW. I’m sorry. I couldn’t do it. You can sue me now, or make me watch a Mark Wahlberg film. Instead, there was the broth, which was deeply chicken-y even without those gross-ass feet all over them, a slight twinge of coriander, and the metallic fire of a dozen pulverized chilies. All in all, it was MEH, unless you are really into the sort of masochistic task of getting those skimpy bits of flesh off of all those little bones. And some of you are like that, if the gigantic pile of toothpick-sized bones on my dad’s and husband’s plates are anything to go by.

So, no judgment. If you are headed to Dinsor Road close to the Chinese Swing, go over to New Tiem Song, which is the open-air shophouse across the street from Bangkok’s City Hall and only a couple of doors down from Mont Nom Sod — the wildly popular toast restaurant credited with being the first eatery to bring fresh milk to the Thai masses. Or, well, you could just go to Mont Nom Sod, and wait in a big long line with Thai teenagers for … toast. Either way, there is something awesome for you waiting on Dinsor Road, whichever way you choose to go.

 

 

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Feeling chicken in Hua Hin

A trio of favorites: green curry, shredded chicken curry and clear soup

A trio of favorites: green curry, shredded chicken curry and clear soup

A few months ago while in New York, my friend Karen took me to Momofuku Ko. It was a hard reservation to score — the chance to vie for a spot at the kappo-style restaurant (currently closed) started off at something like 10 in the morning on the restaurant’s website and closed around 5 minutes later. It was always booked out by then — that is, unless you are lucky like Karen was, winning us a couple of seats right before we were due to set off on a barbecue tour. The secret to getting a reservation? As one of the chefs behind the counter (hipster Ryan Reynolds in an alternate universe) said, “You have to not want it that much.”

That struck me (as did the fact that, um, Mark Ruffalo appeared to be working as the maitre’d there. Does Marvel truly not pay that well? Does no one notice that the Hulk is bringing them menus and giving them glasses? Do NOT complain about your drink order!) “You have to not want it that much” seemed like a very zen way to approach just about everything in your life, if you can keep a handle on all that WANT.

I’ve wanted to go to Krua Kannikar for months. But it’s not easy when a. it’s in Hua Hin and b. your husband is doing all he can to turn into a “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?”-style shut-in. There are lots of reasons to give up being a shut-in for at least a couple of hours though. And the reasons that Krua Kannikar gives are a. chicken b. chicken and c. chicken.

Because that’s all Kannikar serves. Fried chicken, crumbly and thick; stir-fried chicken; chicken shredded and minced in soup; chicken tossed into coconut milk curries with a handful of lime leaves, peppercorns and chilies. Let me tell you a little something about chicken. I LURVE CHICKEN. ESPECIALLY FRIED CHICKEN. In fact, in the same alternate universe where cheffy Ryan Reynolds slaves over a hot stove all day for David Chang, fried chicken and I are happily married and expecting an entire litter of chicken Mcnuggets. But that is back in that other universe. In this universe, I will have to make peace with fried chicken as the one that got away.

Luckily for me, fried chicken is the specialty of the house here. Born back in 1994, Krua Kannikar — like almost all popular Thai restaurants that have been around for a while — morphed out of a street food cart that first sold fresh chicken, then fried chicken. Now, it offers just about every beloved Thai dish that can take chicken: minced chicken salad, stir-fried chicken with chilies and holy basil, chicken tom yum, green curry, and, most notably, the gai yad sai, or deboned fried chicken wings stuffed with a mix of highly seasoned pork mince, garlic  and glass vermicelli. A bewitching mix of crunch, juicy meat, glass noodle-y squick and a little bit of heat, these wings are perfect for people who want everything in one bite.

Kannikar's stuffed fried chicken wings

Kannikar’s stuffed fried chicken wings

It’s chicken heaven for chicken lovers, Ground Central for a Thai Colonel Sanders, and it’s right there for the taking, if you are willing to venture to the train tracks and amble along for a little while until you spot Kannikar’s sign. It’s worth it if you are in the neighborhood, and maybe worth it even if you’re not.

 

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Chicken rice for the articles

The full deal at Mongkolchai

The full deal at Mongkolchai

Chicken rice in Thailand can in many ways be a fraught affair. This is because a dish that supposedly leans so heavily on its essence — boiled, plain chicken meat and fluffy, white rice, stripped of any artifice — is being served in a country that has never heard of a food that couldn’t take another chili pepper or another dollop of shrimp paste. Thailand is about the grand gesture: great big flavors married to overwhelmingly pungent smells. Chicken rice is retiring, minimalistic, almost bare.

So, as with just about every dish of Chinese origin, chicken rice undergoes a little bit of a makeover every time it appears on a Thai plate. There is the chicken, breast or thigh meat, skin or no skin, of course. The rice, grains plumped by chicken broth, no duh. And finally, a tranche of cucumber slices with fresh coriander, paired with a cube of congealed chicken blood or two, and a clear soup in which a sad old hunk of winter melon or turnip swims, possibly with a coriander leaf or cut-up scallion for company.

But in Thailand, everyone who is anyone knows that the dipping sauce is the most important thing on that table. At least, according to my mother. “There is no good khao man gai without a good dipping sauce,” she says, echoing what every Thai has ever really thought: that there is no food on earth that cannot be complete without the perfect sauce. This is the basic premise behind what many consider the gold standard of Bangkok chicken rice dishes, what every khao man gai purveyor strives for: the plump pillow of chicken and rice at Montien Hotel over which not one, not two, not three, but FOUR sauces are meant to drape themselves. Khao man gai is supposed to be about the sauce. Or is it?

It took me a long time to get to Mongkolchai (314 Samsen Road, 02-282-1991). It’s not really about the location, because I will go that far for Sukhothai noodles, or Chinese-style roasted duck on rice, or pork satay. It’s not about the dish, either. I love chicken rice, because I love sauce — specifically, the inky salt sauce dotted with garlic, ginger and chilies that makes Thai chicken rice something beyond the ordinary. It’s how people invariably describe the attraction: this street food place far far away that serves boiled chicken on rice and, oh btw, their soup is really great. This brings on a great big WTF from me, because … come on, SOUP? That side dish you take sips of to help your real food along? These people are like the guys who read Playboy for the articles.

I went anyway. It’s predictably good, tender chicken breast with the option of skin on or off, the requisite Thai-spiked sauce that there is never enough of, the cube of blood and the cucumber. My soup was darker than the average clear broth, awash in pepper and sprinkled with pickled lime flesh. When I got home, I did a little research and read that my soup was probably twice-boiled duck broth.

The pillow and the cube

The pillow and the cube

Would I go back? Yes, because the service was fast and solicitous and friendly. Whether that was because they thought I was a tourist from Hong Kong doesn’t matter to me. But there is more chicken rice a few steps away on my street corner and another half a block away. And the one, the chicken rice that really speaks to me, with its battery of sauce and excess of flesh, awaiting me at the Montien Hotel coffee shop, should I really want to take that trip. I guess I am super Thai after all.

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Filed under Asia, Bangkok, chicken, food, food stalls, Thailand