Bangkok Glutton

Because people know that I mainly write about Thai food and can get riled up easily, they like to show me this-or-that made-up list that presumes to rank all of the foods (or eateries) of the world. Let’s just call this what it is and say that this is straight up, professional trolling, in guises ranging from intentionally provocative to “fake it till you make it”-style authoritative. For this reason, I don’t like to name these kinds of organizations, but I’ve written about the provocative one before.

That said, I can’t help but admire these people. Who knew that a bunch of Croatians could just get together in their office someday and throw around a bunch of ideas long enough to create a completely arbitrary list that gets clicks from outraged people and others who actually take their opinions seriously alike? I applaud this hustle. I, myself, cannot get arrested for my terrible opinions, but these guys actually get reposted, with people cheering on/bewailing this or that string of words they’ve made, and/or bemoaning the publication of some other half-baked barely-researched thing told to them by their local takeout person down the street. Congrats, guys! Or, I mean, “Čestitamo”.

Another person I applaud for their hustle, and I mean this without any tinge of the sarcasm or sour grapes that I’ve displayed above, is Jay Nok. You might know her from Mark’s video from the “Fruit Queen of Thailand“, which has brought people from all over the world to this little open-air fruit shack on the outskirts of Bangkok. Or you just might know her because you just really love fruit. Her place is called “Jay Nok Gratawn Song Krueng”, which centers on the Thai dish of santol fruit in a sweet-and-savory dressing, especially popular in the rainy season. But her place really sells every fruit, from plums and strawberries to seasonal specialties like custard apples or durian, along with a profusion of juices, curries, chili dips, snacks, and even fermented rice noodles. As Jay Nok told me when I went there as a fixer with the Street Eats team: “I just really like pretty things”. And it’s true — all the colorful fruits and juices and pre-prepared foods are beautiful.

But the one thing that is really clever is this:

This is an ice cream “sundae” made of Jay Nok’s home made “ruam mitr” (Thai sweets in coconut milk) ice cream, topped with fried mung beans and maybe an ice cream cone or two, but instead of being placed in a traditional hot dog bun like you would get elsewhere in Thailand, you get two enormous durian pods. What I’m talking about is this, modeled by our producer Ali:

This is fever dream stuff, sprouting from the recesses of the brain when you’re deep in REM sleep and your eyeballs are moving back and forth like a Chinese ping pong game. The ice cream and crunchy mung beans are great in and of themselves; add the ice cream cones and you’re well and truly in business; but then the durian pods — enormous, the size of a jumbo hot dog bun — just take this beyond into Crazytown, population everyone in line for this dish. And believe me, there is a line, a long one.

So if you have the time (and maybe your own transport, because getting a taxi out there is really hard, no joke), head on over the Jay Nok and visit her beautiful fruit for yourself. Gaze at the mangosteens, gape at the young dates suspended from the ceiling, consider the curries. Get a scoop of ice cream or two, maybe in a cone. Crazytown is optional.

Mother’s Day in Thailand falls every year on August 12, the birthday of Queen Sirikit the Queen Mother. At Emporium, there has been a Mother’s Day promotion involving a campaign somewhat creatively called “Master of Mom”, in which mothers get the chance to put on a cap and gown in the color of their choice and take a professional photo with reluctant children and accommodating spouses, replete with bouquet and good lighting. Alas, I did not get the chance to take a “Master of Mom” photo myself, and the thought of my getting a Masters in Mommery would probably make my children, who do not think I am a good mom, laugh. In any case, I enjoyed watching participating moms enjoying themselves from the perch of a table at the overpriced Marimekko Cafe across the room.

There is no “Master of Street Food”, although I’m sure some Singaporean foodie has already hatched a plan to create some sort of government certification with that in mind. I like to think that Thailand is more chaotic and rebellious (in its own way, and the people who live here know what that’s like, especially in traffic). But if there were to be such a program, then Nai Somsak would surely be included.

For people who have yet to enjoy the culinary delights across the river in “Fang Thon”, Thonburi is awash in great street food, with everything from wonderful egg yolk-streaked ice cream to Isaan dishes to vegetarian food. But even with all of the options on offer, Somsak Pu Ob stands out. Yes, there are the Michelin accolades for the past five years running, yada yada yada. The surprising thing here is that Nai Somsak has only been at this for a few years, taking over for his father who was revered in the neighborhood for his delicious claypot seafood. The other surprising thing is that there are no actual claypots involved; steel pots are used instead, as Somsak deems the claypots to take too much time.

And Somsak needs to be quick, because after 5pm, he is busy, placing fresh prawns or eggy crab bits atop a mix of pork lard, peppercorns, coriander seeds, garlic and scallions, with the final layer of glass noodles meant to “steam” the seafood in its own juices. Once the pots are on the burners, it’s all a matter of timing, with Somsak judiciously peeking under the noodles occasionally with his trusty flat metal fork, a conductor to a symphony of fire, steam and metal.

The “pu ob woonsen” might not even have happened if not for a drunken customer who requested that Somsak’s father stir-fry some fresh crab he had picked up at Mahachai Market, then promptly failed to show up. The enterprising vendor, who did not want to waste the crab, instead threw it into his claypot with the vermicelli noodles and a local legend was born. Today, Somsak thinks of the drunken no-show as a “thewada”, or angel. We should all be grateful to this person, who drank so that we could eat.

Drawn in at first by the hyper-perfectionism of the ASMR Youtube channels of Honeyjubu and Hamimommy, I have since migrated to the picture-perfect videos of Kimi, whose life in the South Korean countryside makes me want to set up shop somewhere in Loei with a dog, two cats, and my talent for killing all plant life. I, too, want to sit in a clear stream in the summer heat, enjoying fresh peaches and steamed ears of corn that I’ve grown and picked myself. I, too, want to keep soybean paste and kimchi in big ceramic vats out back of my house, and melt snow in big metal bowls in order to feed my houseplants, because water from the sky is superior to all other water in this setting. I want to spend my autumn mornings with a bunch of other people making kimchi out of cabbages and radishes and mustard greens (again, that I’ve grown myself). Alas, I am where I can usually be found: on my couch in my living room in Bangkok, watching TV.

One dish that I’ve really been taken by — especially as we’re officially in the dog days of summer — is the chilled tomato “pickle” that Koreans make to use up all the excess tomatoes that they have on hand. I decided to try my hand at a Thai-ified version of that dish, keeping the skins on because I am deeply lazy and bruising the tomatoes with a mortar and pestle, som tum-style.

I have to note that Thai people won’t consider this a som tum and more of a yum because there’s no dried chilies, fermented anchovy juice or dried shrimp, etc in the sauce. I say to them that they are being narrow in their definition of som tum, and that all you need is the “tum” action of the mortar and pestle, but this is the kind of Thai culinary minutiae that is sooo boring for outsiders to witness. When someone starts railing about the spelling of “larb” I just want to jump out the window; it’s the Thai inside-baseball version of being Colin Robinson the energy vampire in “What We Do in the Shadows”. No one cares! Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Chilled tomato somtum (Serves 1 or 2 with other dishes)

-3 ripe tomatoes, skin on or off, cut into quarters or in halves depending on size

-1/4 of an onion, diced

-handful of fresh coriander/cilantro leaves, roughly chopped

-1-3 fresh chilies, depending on your spice preference, bruised and chopped

-1 Tbsp fish sauce

-Juice of 1 lime

-1 tsp white sugar

In a mortar and pestle (or a mixing bowl with a potato masher), bruise tomatoes until their skins are split and some of the juice is in the mortar/bowl. Add onions, chilies, fish sauce, lime juice and sugar and taste seasoning. Adjust if necessary. Add cilantro leaves, mix and chill in refrigerator for up to 1 day.