Bangkok Glutton

Chicken soup for the tastebuds

One thing that the Great Street Food Cleanup of Thonglor/Ekamai has done (and solely for the people who eat it for fun), is basically curating that area’s vendors for us. No longer do we need to consult guides to figure out which ones inspire a following (and that’s a good thing, because a lot of those guides would be outdated by now lololallthelulz). Instead, the Bangkok Metropolitan Administration has kindly done the job for us. The vendors who enjoy a steady stream of customers find places nearby in front of businesses that will have them; the ones who can’t broker these types of deals move on.

Yet, even with the knowledge that these vendors are there for us, the chance of getting a plate of food from them has somehow diminished. Let me tell you how that could be: after four (FOUR) tries, I have yet to procure a khao mok gai, or Thai-Muslim-style chicken biryani, from the Thonglor vendor since the Wonderful Sidewalk Cleanup for Citizens of Thonglor/Ekamai back in April.

tl;dr. Rainy season + laziness = zero chicken biryani, like this:

The meal I should be having

Let me tell you the odds: my friend Karen can duck into a shared-ride service in New York City only to encounter a rando she once corresponded with on OKCupid six years ago, but I cannot get a plate of this stuff from this Thonglor vendor. The butt-hurt rando can complain — six years later — about how Karen blew off their date to take photographs of the 10-year anniversary of 9/11, but I cannot get a plate of this stuff from the Thonglor vendor. A movie could come out starring Emma Stone as Karen and Ryan Gosling as this rando guy where they re-encounter each other on a shared ride, only to be joined by a beleaguered government press secretary (Jonah Hill) who is on the run from a dangerous Russian mobster (Russell Crowe) charged by a mysterious entity (Nick Nolte) to recover incriminating documents that the press secretary may have stolen (call me Hollywood/ Uber/ Lyft). But, I cannot get a plate of this stuff from the Thonglor vendor.

The last time I went there was only two days ago. Not a drop of rain yet, not a weekend or a special holiday, all the stars seemed to be aligned for me. I arrived at 10am, only to be greeted by the very bottom of a large stainless steel pot, a few grains of yellow rice clinging forlornly to the side. “Sorry,” said the vendor. She advises me to come at 8 in the morning, a time when I am still mulling my life choices while drinking my second cup of coffee in my pajamas. Trying to salvage something out of my morning, I buy a spicy chicken soup to take home, top-heavy with coriander, deep-fried shallots and plenty of freshly minced chili. I then ask to take a photo of her. “Sure,” she says, resolutely avoiding the camera.

It would appear that the scarcity of street food in the area has only strengthened business for the ones who remain, which makes sense — it should hardly be a challenge to sell good, cheap food in this kind of environment. With that in mind, head to Amat Rot Dee, aka what used to be my favorite chicken biryani vendor, for your own plate of chicken rice heaven, open on Thonglor Road in front of the barber shop past Grand Tower Hotel on Monday-Friday from 8am-9am. Hurry.

Egg noodles with both BBQ and crispy pork 

We don’t hear enough good stories nowadays. It’s all about stuff like “FBI” and “Russia” and moldy old mangoes in the discount bin that have come to life and become president. It’s about bans masquerading as cleanups, and dye jobs gone bad, and “oh yeah, can you make a 10-minute presentation tomorrow, my bad lolz” and panic attacks about public speaking (alcohol or Xanax? Which would be more effective in this situation?) And of course, there is story after story after story of a vendor who had to move, who went to a new place and no longer makes the money he or she used to, or the good food that they used to. There are so many of those stories. Too many.

So it’s nice to hear a good story, about a vendor who won a loyal and devoted  following on Sukhumvit Soi 38, making buttery egg noodles (bamee) gleaming with pork fat and dreams. Thin-skinned minced pork wontons and barely blanched Chinese kale. Tangy barbecued red pork with a cracked boiled red crab claw. A clear, peppery pork broth and a scattering of deep-fried pork crackling, the best punctuation a bowl of noodles could ever hope for. This is what was lost when developers bought the area the former Sukhumvit 38 market stood on and the vendor was forced to move.

I should say vendors. They are a family of six, though the youngest, Khun Suthep with the ponytail, is the one I remember: taciturn and efficient, like a bamee robot but without the warmth. But the third son, Khun Sumet, tells me that they had all planned on retiring, until the flurry of phone calls from forlorn gourmets became so numerous that Khun Sumet finally relented: Find an appropriate vending space near his house, all the way on Chalerm Phrakiat, and they would start cooking again.

I guess I don’t need to tell you the rest of that story. Because here we are, a good 18 km from their original location, looking up at a sign that reads “The first bamee vendor from Sukhumvit Soi 38” (Sukhumvit Soi 103 in front of Suan Luang Rama 9, Chalerm Phrakiat Soi 30, 095-593-6146).

I would not be here, a good 30 minutes away on an evening of sparse Sunday traffic, if it was not for my dad, or his resourceful secretary Mine. They tracked down Khun Sumet and family at a time when I was still trying to eat the bamee that is currently on Soi 38, mistakenly believing that this was what my parents loved and attributing its blandness to my parents’ worn-out, enfeebled tastebuds. But a bowl here puts all of that to shame: as silky as remembered, with broth on the side and enough pork crackling bits to please even me. The only change is that there is no more crabmeat; at this new location, the customers cannot afford crabmeat, and don’t trust that it is fresh. Instead, the crabmeat has been replaced by generous garland of crispy deep-fried pork. The noodles, however, remain handmade.

It’s amazing that cooking of this quality is available at 40-50 baht a bowl (depending on size). Although there is little incentive or reason for street food like this to exist, pure pride makes it a possibility. This is what people mean when they say they love street food. It’s all about the discovery.

First things first: I have been invited by the Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT) to a workshop to better improve my blogging. Wish me luck!

Until then, the latest on what’s up with the streetbanthat’snotastreetbanwhatareyoutalkingaboutstreetfoodisfine. Mostly cleared away are Thonglor, Ekamai and Phra Khanong: this ban-not-ban came into effect April 17. Some areas around Siam, such as Henri Dunant Road, have been cleared for longer. I know this for a fact because it’s nigh-impossible for me to get a taxi nowadays when I leave the gym, since there are no longer streetside places for the drivers to eat. I have heard they have been relocated, but it sure would be nice to know where without having to go all Sherlock Holmes on every motorcycle driver that ever set foot in Siam.

This got me to thinking, and spurred me to finally (actually) read a blurb announcing an upcoming Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Thailand (FCCT) panel on “Bangkok’s Street Food Future”. The gist is this: despite “misreported” city official comments about how street food is toast, it’s actually getting more regulated, and vendors have been moved from some city areas. The word “moved” is interesting: does that mean they are now serving food somewhere else? Or does that mean they have been “moved” to their houses, where they are now free to make noodles for their own faces? So nebulous a word, “moved”, “relocated”, etc. No worries though — since I don’t have a life, I will try to track a few of them down. Still missing the braised pork trotter lady from next to the Sports Club (as are all the taxi drivers I manage to flag down who are looking for her).

Yesterday, while walking down Silom, I did feel that some of the pavement was easier to walk down … has some of it been cleared? The only thing keeping me from saying that my stroll on the sidewalk was a wonderful experience was that there were still a whole lot of other people on the sidewalk, blocking my way. Maybe something can be done about that. In any case, all of that leisurely strolling quickly came to a halt once I got to Convent Road. It was street food up the wazoo: fruit shakes, pig’s trotter on rice, egg noodles with pork, soup noodles, all crowded in front of the 7-11 and various chain restaurants like groupies at a Motley Crue concert. Forced to walk single file down the road, desperately attempting to keep from tripping over a stray bag of groceries, negotiating the many umbrellas shading diners from the relentless midday heat, it felt … like Bangkok again. With nary a clipboard-carrying BMA official to be found.

Of course, if I’m on Convent, the first place I’m heading to is the vendor serving Thai-Muslim chicken biryani.  Named simply “Khao Mok Gai Convent” (on Convent Road outside of Molly Malone’s), this place serves — and has served, for years — a whacking great portion of succulent, toothsome chicken thigh or leg atop a mound of sunshine-colored rice, festooned with deep-fried shallots and a Tinkerbell-sized bowl of sweet chili sauce. It’s wildly simple yet delicious, as is the chicken soup that you should not do without as accompaniment: clear chicken broth flecked with anonymous chicken parts and the same deep-fried shallots, bits of fresh coriander leaf, and a mashed base of fresh bird’s-eye chilies. It is tart and bracing where the biryani is generous and comforting, the yin to that yang. I am willing to bet there is no better lunch on that road, inside or out.

When I remembered to take a picture