Bangkok Glutton

It’s hard to believe, but despite (occasionally) some of my best efforts, this blog will soon be a decade old. Since then, I have published two street food guides and occasionally been on TV — though efforts to make that a regular thing have been met this way:

(via GIPHY)

All the same, it’s not bad for a blog that was originally meant to last for a year. I sometimes enjoy going back and reading the posts that I wrote when I was 5 kg lighter. They seem hopeful, funny even, unmarred by middle age. However, my favorite post ever remains this one.

So, even though I had stopped doing Thanksgiving posts, I’m doing one today, to not only recap nearly a decade of this blog but to force myself to give thanks for nearly a decade of the friends and experiences that Bangkok Glutton made possible. I still meet interesting people because of it every year, and I am still surprised by it.

Also, I have a lot of unused photos on my phone:

Also this one:

Thinking about this post on one of my interminable walks in Auckland (yes, I am still here), I could think of something food-related that I could be genuinely thankful for. And that is the food in Thailand. Not just the food that we’ve always had — like the gang jued that your parents who have been driving you crazy during their two-week visit make for you to make you forget that they drove you crazy — but exciting new food made by chefs who clearly love their Thai cuisine and Thai ingredients and want to champion Thai growers and Thai knowledge. That this comes at a time when a wave of extreme right views seems to be taking root in other parts of the world, and when people who have been in power for centuries can act the aggrieved party when the historically disenfranchised and dismissed ask for their voices to be heard … well, this is moving to me.

There was a time, in a climate like this, that chefs in Thailand would want to dress up their food in Western trappings and Western techniques in a bid to “improve” that food. Chefs are still using those techniques, but not for the colonialist fantasy of fusion cuisine, meant to address a local cuisine’s deficiencies from a Western point of view. Chefs are now using cooking techniques that are now accepted in every part of the fine dining world, but in the service of old cooking traditions, like incorporating scent or smoking or using charcoal. The focus is now on the Thai-ness of it, the farmers and breeders, the local “wisdom”, the soil that nurtures the animals and produce that we eat — even in restaurants where the food or the chefs are not necessarily Thai, it (and they) are still Thai-informed. Even with the influence of Michelin on the dining scene, and how that influence inevitably shapes the dining experience in ambitious restaurants seeking accolades, the instinct, now, is still to be proud of this Thai-ness (or in the case of restaurants like Haoma, in triumphant expressions of their own identities).

This, to me, is liberating in a very personal way that many will probably not understand. We are taking refuge in things that we could never have changed in the first place. There is no denial or wishing that everything was different. There is also no retreat into the faux superiority gained by culinary orthodoxy. We are what we are, hovering in that in-between place that is still being built with every dish we make. What a relief that feels like.

TL;DR. Here are some more photos:

 

 

 

As you probably already know, I have very little to do in Auckland aside from taking the bus to the yoga studio, doing my laundry and yelling at the television whenever a quiz show comes on. I end up doing a lot of reading. So it’s of little surprise, then, that I would come across this very important debate today on whether your preferred Mr. Darcy is Colin Firth or Matthew Macfadyen, and whether that preference is because of your age. Naturally — for scientific purposes, you see — I want to add my own two cents. My age: 47. My preferred Mr. Darcy: Matthew Macfadyen, all day long.

My friends are also helping me while the day away by sending me reading material. Dwight (@bkkfatty), who has just returned to Bangkok, sent me a story about the most recent move to bring street food vendors and the people who love them in closer accordance with the very brave freedom fighters who want to “return the sidewalks to the people.” F&B entrepreneur Chris Foo is living out my very own dream of filling out a street food fantasy football team by launching his own street food complex in Thonglor, initially sparked by finding his employees an affordable place to eat. It is set to open later this year and my only hope is to be able to find the time to go. Well, one of my hopes.

Dwight accuses me of writing about the changes to the Bangkok street food scene with “fear and insanity”, but I think this is unfair. “Fear and insanity” is my natural writing style. Also, is it fear and insanity to say something like Donald Trump is ruining American democracy? Or, stop buying property in Bangkok, because it will be underwater soon? Maybe. Maybe it is fear and insanity. But again, it’s my natural instinct. If it looks like it’s soon going to walk like a duck and talk like a duck, is it the BMA?

The latest Thai restaurant in Auckland that I’ve checked out is saan, which focuses on Isaan and Northern Thai food, but with the requisite nods to people pleasers like mussaman curry and Thai-themed cocktails. It is the kind of restaurant the BMA would trip over themselves to accommodate: upscale, but in a non-showy, quiet way, with its abundance of green plants and blonde wood. Everyone there is beautiful and young. And they get the details right; when I walked in, the barman was pounding a som tum salad with a mortar and pestle.

It’s a delicate balance, crafting a menu of lesser-known regional specials while still placating the diners who want to eat Thai food that they recognize. Saan does this well. You’ll find the super-rich, coconut cream-full curries — stuff that’s very Central and the most popular dishes on the menu — balanced out with things that a newbie wouldn’t necessarily gravitate to, but would find just as comforting as what they already know (drunken noodles with shrimp, kua gai, and pad see ew). Some of the dishes themselves have undergone a spiffy makeover as well. The popular-at-home Thai appetizer mieng kum  sports toasted coconut, tofu and peanuts on perilla leaves in place of the harder-to-find wild betel. I missed a few of the flavors that make mieng kum something I love, like the green mango and the dried shrimp and the little diced bits of lime like tiny acid bombs. All the same, each very big mouthful (try two bites or you will look like an animal like I did) packed a big spicy punch.

Any time I see nam prik (chili dip) on a menu, I am all over it. So I was very excited to see a relish of roasted eggplant, mushroom and chili on the menu. This was also spruced up a bit too, since it came with deep-fried strips of tofu instead of what is admittedly the heart attack-inducing (but traditional!) accompaniment of pork or buffalo rinds. I missed those rinds though. Still, this dip came with a nice garnish of pai leaves (aka Vietnamese coriander), a flavor that I very much missed.

The waitress recommended that we also try the mussaman lamb curry, which is the restaurant’s most popular dish, so we did. I’ll say it: I didn’t like it. I thought it was gamey and sweet. But this is where my different taste buds come into play. Different people like different things. And that doesn’t make a restaurant any worse. It only makes them sensitive to the tastes of their customers. Who knew?

But about that som tum. If I felt like that mussaman curry would likely not find its way onto my family’s table in Thailand, I felt the opposite about the green papaya salad. Is there an old Isaan lady hidden somewhere in the back? Because that is what it tasted like; it tasted like home. Is the barman a secret Thai wizard? That alone is a mystery worth solving with another visit.

 

 

I have a lot of alone time here in New Zealand, which gives me the time for a lot of self-reflection. Lol jk. I spend a lot of time thinking about things like Kenny Rogers and whether the relationship he described in the song “Lady” lasted, and if it didn’t, can he still sing the song in front of his newest partner or does she not let him? I mean if your husband is singing about the love of his life and it was before he met you, that might be uncomfortable, this public performance inspired by some other lady, wouldn’t it? Or maybe all you would think is “$$$$$$$$$” and then happily go home to your pool and your cleaning lady, the real love of your life.

When I am not thinking about Kenny Rogers and other artists that New Zealand Uber drivers play while I’m in their cars, I read the Internet. That is how I learned that Ali Wong is coming out with a book, helpfully excerpted by New York Magazine. The excerpt is a very useful guide to Asian restaurants (that have yet to go back to their own countries): Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, Korean and Filipino. Of course, I noticed that somehow she left out Thai in her handy list. This must be because she is waiting for me to write that part. So here I am, with this handy info, to complete this guide to Asian restaurants that have yet to reverse brain-drain themselves. You’re welcome, Ali Wong!

Thai Cuisine Abroad

Good signs:

• The name contains a romanized form of a Thai word (“aroy”, “dee det” “rot det”, etc). A passable restaurant includes a reference to an elephant, orchid, silk, or tropical fruit.
• The cook is an old Thai woman in a white cap, or an old Thai man with one or two hairy moles.
• The menu is laminated (ABROAD ONLY) and has an Isaan section.
• The other patrons are mostly Asian.
• The location is in a strip mall or on a street with other Asian restaurants.
• Bare-bones decor.
• You can hear the sound of a mortar and pestle in the kitchen.
• There is shouting in the kitchen.
• There might be a fire in the kitchen.
• The restaurant is also selling bottled sauces, relishes, snacks and/or fresh tropical fruit for exorbitant amounts of money in front of the cash register.
• Thai beers are on the menu (bonus if the beer is Chawala).
• The servers speak Thai.

Bad signs:

• The name is a pun on the word Thai (“Thai One On”, “Dinner Thai”, “All Thai’d Up”, etc)
• Thai classical music is playing.
• The table is set with forks and knives (RUN); red flag if the table setting includes chopsticks and it is not a soup noodle restaurant or specializing in chicken rice (SEE: Montien Hotel coffeeshop).
• There is a wine list.
• The menu includes anything with Wagyu or Kurobuta, or if there are references to caviar (RUN if there is a sushi section).
• There is neon lighting inside, extra red flag if that lighting is paired with artsy graffiti on painted brick walls.
• The soundtrack is EDM or anything involving the Chainsmokers.
• The patrons are all eating their own dishes by themselves, and have mostly ordered the same thing.
• The kitchen is silent and you cannot hear the food cooking.
• The servers don’t ask you about your preferred level of spice.
• You are not sure if the servers can even find Thailand on a map.
• You aren’t afraid of spilling your leftovers on your lap and smelling like week-old garbage or toe cheese.