Bangkok Glutton

To my dismay, I have not been able to return to Japan, making it almost three whole years since I last set foot on the Land of the Rising Sun. To make up for this, I have been experiencing Japan vicariously through — what else — the TV, even going so far as to overcome my distaste for Ansel Elgort’s face to watch the entire first season of “Tokyo Vice” (which is very good).

But my favorite of the “vicariously living in Tokyo” programs are, of course, the food ones. There is “Midnight Diner”, where each episode features a dish that becomes the theme that day; unfortunately, it’s marred by the fact that the customers are forced to order the same thing every time they pull up to the bar, a sort of culinary “Groundhog Day”. There’s “Gourmet Samurai”, where the protagonist overcomes dining-related embarrassments (the horror!) by conjuring up a more handsome, younger alter-ego who is so macho that he is willing to try new ingredients in his oden! There is also the Road to Red Restaurants List, where a salaryman avoids hanging out with his family on the weekends in order to ferret out restaurants serving “endangered” (read: unusual) foods, and “The Way of the Hot and Spicy”, where another salaryman gets hazed by his coworkers into eating progressively spicier dishes as the series goes on. There’s even “Curry Songs”, which is not really about curry, and made me cry. I have been watching a lot of television.

But none is as dear to my heart as “Izakaya Bottakuri”, where a pair of sisters take over their deceased parents’ restaurant. You not only learn a lot about how the dishes are made, but also about what drinks pair best with them. Through this show, I have learned that carrot tops can be stir-fried and seasoned with sesame oil and seeds; that the broth from stewing chicken wings can be made into a jelly and served as a drinking snack; that tororo (mountain yam) can be grated and cooked on top of a hot plate as a “steak”, topped with dancing bonito flakes. But the most eye-opening dish for me, personally, was the “spaghetti naporitan” (S1, E8), a Japanese-Western fusion (yoshoku) featuring pasta, hot dogs, bell peppers, and a sauce made primarily of ketchup.

Now, I am no newbie to ketchup pasta. Indeed, for years, Bangkok restaurants served only that kind of pasta, at places with “Western” food choices like 13 Coins. I remember my 13-year-old self turning her nose up at these dishes, forcing family members to eat my own “more authentic” spaghetti sauces made from tomato paste and canned tomatoes. Little did I realize then that I was passing on an interesting sliver of food history. I would not remake that mistake.

“Spaghetti naporitan” (spelled that way because it’s the usual way to spell it, not because I’m making fun of Japanese people) is, of course, derived from the southern Italian dish spaghetti alla Napoletana, which is basically pasta al pomodoro. It’s not that way in Japan, though. Said to have been created by a chef at the New Grand Hotel in Yokohama and inspired by the food served to American soldiers, this dish uses ingredients common to Japan at the time to create something Western — a real example of culinary ingenuity, like kai kata. The sauce is a melange of ketchup, milk and Worcestershire sauce; the proper “hot dogs” used are smoked Vienna sausages; the pasta is supposed to be overcooked and soggy. Best of all, it’s served on an iron hot plate, over a bed of beaten egg that can be wrapped around the pasta like a blanket as you eat. Seriously, what’s not to like?

Because I live in a city where the Japanese food is almost as good as in Japan (except for the sushi, which still suffers from the rice), I sought to seek out all of the spaghetti naporitans I could find in an effort to find the closest version to the one at “Izakaya Bottakuri.” My quest started at My Porch , which by night is a karaoke bar but by day is a hotbed of lunch activity for Japanese housewives. I thought of this restaurant first because I used to go often, when I was going through an uni pasta phase (sadly, definitively ended after trying Zac Posen’s uni pasta recipe during lockdown).

As you can see, it’s a fancy plate of pasta, as full of good taste as the other offerings on the menu at this super-classy joint. The pasta is al dente, the protein is bacon instead of hot dogs, and the sauce is made from tomatoes. In other words, not really naporitan. But tasty!

On a rare night out drinking with my sister and her friends, I suggested Kelly’s Another as a post-bar possibility after we discovered that the Teppen on Sukhumvit 61 (sadly, still the only good one) was fully booked. An offshoot of the hugely popular Teriyaki Bar Kelly’s , Kelly’s Another (I can’t with the sequence of words in both names) has a more salaryman-in-Shinjuku vibe (as opposed to the idealized 50s vibe at the teriyaki bar) and a more subdued crowd. Here, I got a tiny plate of naporitan (the servings are small here) that, to me, tasted the most like the one that the customers at Izakaya Bottakuri would have had.

But there were other places ostensibly serving naporitan to try. My friend Andrew agreed to go with me to Kitchen Niigata, an old-fashioned style “diner” that would not have been out of place in the alleyway in Asakusa. The old-fashioned style extends to the table dividers, which I promptly stubbed my toe on. As we took our seats (right as it was opening at 11:30), the room was already filling up. Andrew got what you’re expected to get, the Hamburgu steak teishoku. I of course got the naporitan.

I have to say, it was pretty close. There were hot dogs in there, and the pasta was definitely overcooked. I did taste the ketchup in the sauce. But points docked for no “shakey shakey” (the grated processed Parmesan cheese) or even Tabasco, which seems to be an obligatory addition to every naporitan served in Bangkok.

I did not draft Andrew for my next naporitan at nearby Tonsei , a grubbier version of Kitchen Niigata. As I entered, there was only one other customer there, an older Japanese man reading. Out of all of the places I’d been to, this was the only one where the television was playing NHK. The decor was very much past its prime. This felt like a truly legit place.

I guess this version, of all the ones I’d tried, felt like the most in keeping with the spirit of naporitan (ie. a cheap mishmash of leftover odds and ends). The protein was leftover seafood sausage normally used for the soup noodles. The pasta was overcooked. The sauce was definitely ketchup-y. The cook (Thai) came out to get a look at the person who had ordered naporitan instead of a teishoku. Still no shakey shakey.

So when Andrew and I went to Samurai Diner and they helpfully set down not only the Tabasco but the shakey shakey, I of course went to town when my naporitan arrived.

Alas, it was my least favorite version by far. While the noodles were indeed soggy and the sauce indeed ketchup-based, the sausage (and/or bacon used) emitted an unpleasant smell that no amount of nostalgia could power through. I eyed Andrew’s hamburger steak with envy. Lesson learned: some things are not surefire hits, even when slathered in ketchup.

I have been writing on this blog since 2010. I guess that makes me a longtime food blogger, even though I have yet to make money from my blog. All the same, the cumulative knowledge earned from 10+ years of blogging would suggest that I know how to get eyeballs to my website. This is very much not true.

Considering how long I have been blogging, very few people actually read my blog. This means that either I am a very stubborn person, or very good at denial, or both. All of which is to say that only recently have I learned how to win “engagement” with my audience. It’s to make them really, really mad with trash opinions that will create controversy.

I learned this, of course, from a guy named Elon Musk, who appears to write trash opinions on Twitter for a living. This, of course, keeps his name in the news, and his website in the news. It doesn’t matter that much of that news is negative and/or mean; the only thing that matters in this brave new world is that people are talking about you (see: Ye, Ted Cruz).

Which is all a roundabout way of saying that TasteAtlas (no, I will not link to it) is the Elon Musk of food opinions. If you do not understand what I mean by this, let me put it another way: their opinions are trash. I know that this is what they want me (and you as well) to think, and even more importantly, to say and write. I hate that I have fallen into their very cleverly laid trap. The truth is, when their completely arbitrary and strange lists of “world’s best cuisines” and “world’s best dishes” initially made little splashes on the news, I steered away from them, recognizing them for the attention trolls that they are. I recognized this from seeing that they put Romanian food at number four on the “world’s best cuisines” list, before Mexican food, and that they made Polish pierogis number three on the “world’s best traditional food” list while placing satay and tonkatsu at the bottom. “What a troll,” I thought, before clicking onto the more important business of playing my Redecor app. But here I am, talking about it (finally! I know they have been waiting) because I now realize what it is that they were trying to do: teach me how to be a professional troll, the Yoda to my Luke of learning the great art of Elon Muskery.

So here it is, a list of trash opinions. They are (mostly) about food, of course. And, unlike, I suspect, TasteAtlas, these are my truly, sincerely held opinions. Make of them what you will.

• The Japanese have ruined both steak and whisky. Steak is supposed to taste like beef. Wagyu beef is 1. more of an exercise in texture; 2. impossible to enjoy for more than a few bites, even with the addition of freshly grated wasabi, and 3. should be cooked to medium at the very rarest, in order to activate the fat. When it is cooked medium-rare, it is simply an overfatty slab of beef. As for their whisky, yes, it is too smooth. I like mine smelling like tires on fire and burning your throat as it goes down. This way, I can remind myself that I am alive.
• Sweet pickles are an abomination against God. I’m sorry. I know there are uses for them. But when I get a sandwich with a pickle on the side, and then bite into said pickle to discover that it is sweet, I want to throw the entire plate out the window. Don’t psyche me out like that. It is cruel, and a war crime.
• “Catch and Release” is a great movie, and perfectly cast.
• When Asian restaurants make hamburgers, they are always too high. You are supposed to be able to fit it into your mouth. Why are you piling a million things on top of each other like you are playing edible Jenga? I do not want to have to eat my hamburger in two horizontal halves. That is not the point of a hamburger.
• Alternatively, never order nam prik or gang som from a Thai restaurant abroad unless you are absolutely sure of the kitchen. Just believe me on this one.
• Japanese rolls that involve tempura flakes and/or mayonnaise are horrible and should be served in restaurants that specialize only in these kinds of rolls, so that you can know for sure where to avoid.
• I’ve heard respected critics say that The Cup is a silly restaurant. No offense, but that restaurant isn’t meant for them. It’s not even meant for me. It’s a restaurant for rich Thai people who went to boarding school in England and miss the food they had at that time, but with some Thai flair.
• Tom yum should not have coconut milk in it. Don’t even get me started on cow milk or evaporated milk. The addition of milk changes the entire flavor profile. It makes it into an entirely different dish. So name it something else! Just don’t call it tom yum, which an astringent, tangy, bracing, herbalicious soup, not sweet, creamy, or unctuous.
• Out of all the stupid decisions that the show runners made on “Game of Thrones”, the dumbest was the decision to add a character named Talisa who would be Robb Stark’s love match. Robb Stark married a girl he had sex with because he did not want her to have a bastard baby, because he saw how his own mother treated Jon, who was supposedly a bastard. He did not want to create another Jon. So the fact that the Red Wedding happened is because of Catelyn Stark’s own shitty actions and karma, not because Robb fell in love with some random chick. (Also, George R.R. Martin will never finish the series. Let’s stop pretending that this will happen.)
• Mieng kum is erroneously referred to online as a Northern Thai dish. The truth is that the dish as we know it today is about as Northern Thai as I am Miss Argentina. Yes, it was first presented by Dhara Devi at Rama V’s court, featuring pickled mieng leaves. That dish is not the dish that we are presented with today, featuring wild betel leaves and an assortment of ingredients that can be placed into your leaf (helpfully folded into a cup) that includes smoked coconut, peanuts and dried shrimp, before being topped with a savory-sweet dipping sauce. This dish, with the flavors and ingredients that I just mentioned? It’s a Central Thai dish. You will find it at Central Thai restaurants. And if you see it in a restaurant in Northern Thailand, it’s a dead giveaway that the owners of that restaurant are Central Thai.

Now, here’s a bonus opinion on mieng kum: I prefer mieng ka na. The leaves are sturdier and there is usually the addition of some deep-fried pork skin, which is delicious in any iteration. My favorite in Bangkok is sold at Klang Soi (12, 1 Sukhumvit 49/9 Alley,  02 391 4988, BTS: Phrom Phong) which is on the grounds of the Klang Soi Racquet Club. It’s close to another personal favorite, Lert Ros, which has a cool Thai diner-y vibe, but Klang Soi’s food is better (their gaeng nuea, or beef green curry, is the closest that I’ve found in taste to my husband’s family’s green curry, which is delicious.) If I have time on my own, I try to head over there, order a deep-fried toast with minced pork on top (with cucumber ajad of course), and tuck into a mieng ka na before deciding on the rest of my lunch (they have good daily specials). Try it, it’s fun. And, yet another bonus opinion: eating alone is better because you don’t have to share.

I had every intention of writing about something else this week, but I admit, I have fallen under the thrall of not one, but two obsessions. One is the saga known simply as “Olivia Wilde’s salad dressing”. Oh, you don’t know what I’m talking about? Don’t worry, this link has you covered. Or maybe you’d prefer this one. What’s that, too long? Maybe you prefer this one or this one. Honestly, anything that even hints at a very special salad dressing — no matter how simple — will catch my attention, because I fancy myself a great salad maker. Really. I don’t throw that word around cavalierly when it comes to describing myself. I am very good at salad dressings. When I’m feeling lazy (which is most of the time), I just mix it up in the bowl. Occasionally, I will stretch myself and make a real dressing in a separate container. They are both good. I’ll use whatever ingredients come to hand, but I prefer tart flavors. You can put almost anything into a salad dressing and it will taste good. The secret is: salt. Also, that old rule of thumb where you add two tablespoons of oil for every one tablespoon of vinegar is garbage. It’s more like half and half. Ultimately, like all other cooking, it’s all about intuition and feel. I make a lot of salads. And a good hand with the salt fixes most mistakes.

All of the stories about this particular salad dressing pumped me up enough to go to the grocery store in order to search out a nice pungent bunch of wild arugula (endive is far too expensive in Thailand) in order to whip out a correspondingly sturdy mustard vinaigrette. But that’s when my second recent obsession took over. And that obsession is all about canned sardines.

I guess it started when I went to Paris this past summer, and our hotel ended up being next to a shop devoted entirely to sardines. Unsure of which types of sardines I would enjoy, I ended up buying a random selection of them.

I initially bought these with the intention of simply plopping them on top of a toasted slice of good sourdough, but then my culinary ambitions — stunted as they usually are — took over, courtesy of Olivia Wilde’s salad dressing. Inspired by a recent meal I had at Err, I decided to instead make a yum of canned sardines, or yum pla krapong (not to be confused with seabass, which has a similar name). For my purposes, I chose this can:

Traditionally, not so salad-y, I decided to mix it in with a lot of leafy romaine and a tomato. I made a standard lime-fish sauce yum dressing and added a whole lot of lime leaves, slivered, from the garden, a handful of Thai shallots, and a handful of sliced bird’s eye chilies. I julienned some lemongrass bulbs left over from a recent Sansa salad (very good, if you like salads). And I mixed it all together for my lunch.

It was good, satisfying most of what I had been craving. But then I wondered if the traditional version of this “salad” was what I had been wanting all along. So the very next day, I went back to the grocery store specifically to buy the canned sardine that all Thais say must be used for this dish.

This fish is meatier than the French stuff, and obviously not as tart. I also made sure to use a “good quality” fish sauce, to echo Nora Ephron’s (Olivia Wilde’s, if you don’t like to read links) suggestion of using “good quality” red wine vinegar for her dressing. Ultimately, this dish is meant to be eaten with a good hot bowl of rice, just like Thais intended it.

Yum pla krapong (serves 2, or 1 if it’s me)

• 1 can of sardines of whatever persuasion
• 10-20 lime leaves, the spines taken out and the leaves julienned (I like as many as possible, so that my yum resembles a squashed green sea urchin)
• A handful of Thai shallots (or one medium-sized banana shallot), sliced thinly
• 10-20 Thai chilies (bird’s eye or goat peppers), sliced
• 3 lemongrass bulbs, sliced
• The juice of one lime
• 2 Tbsps of good quality fish sauce like this
• 1 pinch of MSG (optional. My housekeeper insists this is the magic ingredient)

Mix well together and taste to adjust seasonings to your liking. Add in some torn sturdy lettuce leaves like romaine and a sliced tomato if you like. Serve with some good hot Thai rice on the side to soak up all that chili.

It’s satisfying.