Peter Green
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Posts posted by Peter Green
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Ahem!.....
Yoonhi has some comments, having spotted the obvious (which always eludes me).
The cocktail is meant to be a Kinnaree. The banana is the body, the maraschino cherry the head, and the orange the dress, the final greenery out the end the tail.
And I'd just plain missed that the yam som o was served in its own shell. Doh!
We now return to my frantic attempt to post before Rona
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Part 12 - And You May Find Yourself In A Beautiful House
Yoonhi is eagerly awaiting the introduction of teleportation, not caring much for the time it takes to get places.
I sometimes think things change fast enough as is.
Chiang Rai
Leaving the air conditioned serenity of the Discovery, with the music still in my ears (“dancing cheek to cheek”) we were ushered into Chiang Rai International Airport.
I queried my driver on this.
“Why do they call it ‘International’? Where do they fly to?”
“Bangkok!” and he laughed.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Chiang Rai International Airport. Your Gateway to Bangkok!
I just don’t know how that would work as a slogan.
As you can see, inside was, well, challenging. The stalls were fairly tightly crammed, while the big corporate groups squatted like ogres, taking up space and preying upon passersby.
I saw more of the honeycomb here, but again Yoonhi held me back. I did remember to buy some ginko nuts, and I looked longingly at the sausages, but I was told we had enough.
We made it through security to the Spartan camp of the departure lounge, and prepared for the next leg.
If Yoonhi had her way, she’d snap her fingers (or wriggle her nose) and we’d be somewhere else.
Bangkok
It’s good to be recognized…maybe.
We slinked out of our cheap taxi from the airport, bungy straps holding our suitcases in the trunk (ever since they introduced the LNG tanks back there, there’s less trunk-space than a Mercedes SLR), but were spotted right away. Rainer, the new GM (and Regional VP), greeted me warmly, and had us swept away to our room for a more comfortable check-in.
The economy is hurting, and the Four Seasons is weathering the storm as best they can, relying upon the support of their local clients while foreign travel slowly comes back. So they were very appreciative that I’d flown back for Valentine’s.
I wish I’d had more time to chat with Rainer, as he, like Patrick earlier, is a very easy person to talk with, but we had a dinner to be at.
Traffic had been rough on the expressway, and we were in some doubt that we would make it to our meal in time. As we were meeting others, this was a concern.
At the hotel, our attendant had asked if she could arrange a car to take us there. I looked at her and said,
“It’s a Friday night in Bangkok. I think maybe the BTS?”
“I think the BTS is better, yes. I would take the BTS.”
(and you have to imagine the appropriate smiles with this)
Consensus is good.
Rule 13 of romance: be cheerful, but don’t smile too much at other young ladies
(this rule goes hand in glove with the bit about knives in rule 12)
We looked longingly at what may be the biggest and most comfortable bed we’ve ever had, and then set out into the night.
Deja bu
Kinnaree again. Roll your eyes if you will, but I like this place. It’s a beautiful house, the ambience is good, and the food is very well prepared.
And they have cocktails.
Cocktails with straws.
Over the top works well as a descriptive phrase here.
We sort of felt like hummingbirds, sitting back in our chairs and lightly sipping from a distance.
We had a small crowd. FlyingRat (Ellen) was out for the evening, but her husband was suffering at home, victim to a one of those flus that picks people at random in aircraft and then takes possession of their lungs.
And M & E were out, with their young son, S, just back from travel abroad, too.
This is the making of a great meal, with everyone back with stories from their travels.
Timing wasn’t too bad. We arrived just at 7:30, between Ellen and M, and so nobody was kept waiting for too long. Just enough time to start wading through the menu.
Our drinks, already on the table, were the Kinnaree Secret, a blend of gin, dry vermouth, guava, pomelo, and grenadine.
Light of Kinnaree was light rum, vodka, Malibu, midori, pineapple, lemon, and syrup.
Red Kinnaree was gin, peach schnapps, lychee, strawberry liquor, blackberry liquor, and lemon.
I like the touch of a whole banana on the edge. If you’re going all out, forget the lime wedges, and cherries. Go for the Carmen Miranda fruit basket look.
For a starter, as we tried to find order out of chaos in our selection, we had a perfectly little spring roll, brushed with sweet tamarind sauce.
Yam som o was a requirement. This is probably my favourite version in town right now (although the addition of the waffle basket at the Tented Camp was a brilliant move). I’ve noticed, though, that nobody seems to be going to the trouble they used to in the old days to separate every single bead of the pomelo, making do with small chunks
We had this last time I was here, I believe. Beef wrapped around pineapple. Young S eschewed the pineapple (rather than chewing it) and unwrapped the meat and ate that alone. It’s like our kids. I think the young years are best described as “carnivorous”.
Fat Horse I ordered just for the name. steamed shrimps resting on black mushroom and taro root. A touch of mint, and a bit of chili.
Moo yai takrai – pork on lemon grass. Like a meat lollypop, with the scent of lemon grass and the pleasure of pork. A touch of chili sauce on the side just to pick it up.
River prawns in a chu chi curry, with white mouse ear fungus fighting back the orange tide. This is a particularly good gravy that cries out for rice.
And behind that is Kinnaree’s “pork chop” a glistening, soft cut of meat that almost melts
We’d talked before of pandan leaves. Here they were wrapped about more prawns, and then grilled, the aroma rising off of them. This was served with sesame in soy.
And duck. I had to have more duck. This was Kinnaree’s version of coffee duck. Drier than the Four Seasons, treated as a marinade and coating for the roast, rather than a separate sauce. Again, the mouse ears adorn only one side of the plate, takeing after Vincent Van Gogh.
I can still taste this.
A crab farci – sweetheart crab. A good dish for Valentine’s Eve. This is an extremely simple thing to make, but always tastes so good. To do it, you have someone else take all of the meat out of the crab, first. ☺
Fish 2 Oceans sounded interesting, and was. They steamed one part of the grouper and served it with a spicey lime dressing, and then deep fried the other portion, and doled it out with a sweet and spicy topping and baby tomatoes.
And we had more duck, and more chu chi. This time together, with lychees added in for more sweetness.
S had done well with us, taking part in the conversation, and eating those items that suited him. So, when he wanted to skip ahead a bit to dessert, there was no reason not to agree.
He’d asked the waiter if he could have a cherry, and the waiter obliged.
We’d ordered way too much food, and dessert seemed like a non-event for us, but M has an insatiable appetite, and insists that a meal isn’t a meal without dessert.
Given this ultimatum, we had durian ice cream with green pandan sticky rice, topped with a dollop of coconut cream.
It was very good, but I had some serious questions now about getting into my tuxedo.
And the presence of a selection of fruit and fried chocolate filled things along with more ice cream wasn’t helping.
Still, the two desserts were shared out amongst us, and we did an honorable bit of work on them.
We asked for some straws to take home with us, and I navigated my tummy out of the restaurant.
Outside, the weather was near-perfect for Bangkok. Mid-20s, clear(ish), and there was that heavy odour in the air that I always miss.
But no birdsong.
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Part 11 – Cooking For the Camp
(What would George Herter make of this?)
Our third peaceful morning was interrupted by the trumpeting of elephants. The children were on their way for breakfast.
I considered waking Yoonhi, but she hadn’t stirred, and so thought better of it.
Rule 12 of romance: let sleeping Koreans lie
I took advantage of the tub, and Yoonhi slowly came back to this world. By 9 we were ready for breakfast, and we made our way back to the dining room.
Our flight was not until 4, so it was to be a late check out for us. This was a morning of relaxation, of doing not much.
So, of course, I’d arranged something.
But, first, a meal.
Smoothies to begin. I’d noticed this time that the bamboo tubes used for serving the smoothies were chilled at the base, and that the coffee cups and cream were, in turn, heated.
Yoonhi had the smoked salmon and bagel that I’d enjoyed the day before (not the “same one”, but the same order), and I spotted Lao pho on the menu.
While I’m not fond of juk, I think noodles in a good broth is an admirable way to start your day.
Fish balls, herbs, been sprouts, rice stick, and a very soft broth.
But much of the joy of pho (there’s a title for a Vietnamese cookbook) is in the fixings, and I was amused at the presentation. Beaten stainless, so clean you can see the reflection. I compare this with the pho (foe) experience elsewhere in the neighborhood, and I smile.
My arrangements were nothing too strenuous. While Yoonhi returned to the tent, I did a tour of the kitchen. I was curious to see how they were outfitted up here.
I’d like a kitchen like this at home. Compared to, say Madison in Bangkok, where I had to suck it in to stay out of the way of the staff, this was a luxury of working space.
Khun Fanta was here with me, the sous chef, and Khun Ninet was busy at work on a fish. As I’d mentioned earlier, Khun Damri was from the Four Seasons in Bangkok. Khun Fanta was also from the Bangkok operation, and Khun Ninet was from the Four Seasons Chiang Mai (which continues to get great reviews for their food).
Not present were the rest of the staff, but there are also K. Taweedech, K Pokhai, K. Sumet, K. Songwut and K. Kongkiat - in all an eight person team for the kitchen.
And remember, they’re cooking for a maximum of 30 guests.
Well, that’s not exactly accurate. They’re also cooking for the camp, as this is a camp. So there’s another 100+ people that need to be cared for. (And I like the look of that curry).
The Western gear is all good equipment. Nice big gas burners, single sheet counters and sinks, and plenty of drainage in the floors. Salamanders, toasters, mincers, and plenty of pots and knives.
The Asian side is more fun. I love the blasters. These things always make me think of the back side of an F18, and I feel a lot more confident around these than I do the open flame pits of Chengdu.
Yeah. If I was going to live in the wild, I’d want a kitchen like this.
Given the wealth of coffees, I asked about their brand. They’re using Bon, which is a Thai-Swiss roasting venture. They get their Arabica from up here in the North, but the decaf is imported. (And Robusta is grown in the South).
I peaked in on Khun Ninet as she worked the fish, a good piece of Pacific salmon.
I’m always careful around Thai women with knives.
And the office was the happy collection of notes and panicy white board scrawls of what is needed from the days shopping expedition (“Mahmuang mai mi”).
Outside, I spotted A with Khun Damri over amongst the plants.
As you’d expect out here, they have their own garden, with plenty of herbs and greens.
New basil was peeking up from under the straw. The temperatures here, up until a couple of weeks ago, were quite chill, down in the single digits centigrade.
This one, the red bulbs, we weren’t certain of in terms of name (and I didn’t catch the Thai name). The white flesh of the fruit underneath is used in cooking, but this wasn’t ripe yet.
More basil. And I could post more, but I’ve always been more interested in food when it arrives on a plate as to when it’s alive in the ground.
But, let me get in this last shot of the camp vehicles, for my friends that are Rover fans (hands up everyone that watched Daktari as a kid!).
We took care of our extras, prepared our bags for pick up, and made our farewells.
And I mustn't forget Corky, the owner’s wife’s bird. Corky keeps an eye on things for her when she's not around.
Like the protagonist in Martin Amis’ Time’s Arrow, we moved backwards – from our feet back onto the boot back into the Discovery - and travelled back to Chiang Rai’s airport. Green fields, old temples, farmer’s at work in the fields, and a feeling like we’d been here for a long time.
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Part 10 – The Last Supper
From the wine cellar to the dining room. We could manage this without a Land Rover.
It was just the six of us, and we settled in to our dinner and conversaion. Talk of travel and Thailand and Vietnam and Turkey and San Francisco.
The opener was a small bit of salad. The other two couples had been here for four nights, and one of the fellows had spent time on a cooking class earlier in the day (why couldn’t I have done that instead of a spa?)
Rule 10 of romance: togetherness is good, even if it kills you
This was a Ceasar, and the dressing was quite good, based upon the guest’s recipe. Khun Damri (David) the chef had come out of Biscotti at the Four Seasons Bangkok, so he knew how to make a salad (The portion was just a little small, as we two had joined in).
There was, of course, more nam prik. I’d concluded that a Northern meal has to have nam prik somewhere on the table.
And a beautiful bird was dropped down on us. A duck, following the coffee duck recipe of the Four Seasons Chiang Mai.
The duck is roasted first , and then a sauce of coffee, oyster sauce, sweet soy, chili, tomato, tamarind, sugar, and a bit of dark rum is topped over. The meat pulls away just right, and this bird was large enough to keep the six of us happy.
There was a soup of pork, tangy with tamarind in the broth.
More protein was present with sai eua, grilled chicken, and deep fried nehm. Deep fried fermented sausage is good for you. Trust me.
There was lobster brought up from Phuket, fried with fresh green peppercorns and red bell pepper, giving it a ron phet (peppery) taste.
These greens were described as melon leaf (crunch), and to the right is a Ruby Fish buried under vegetables.
And som tam. You’ve got to have som tam. This was mildly painful, not over the top.
And a curry, more from the Central Plains. This one at medium spice with eggplants and tender cuts of beef.
Oh, in case you’re wondering, I was drinking an Kiwi Merlot Cab (Bobich from Hawkes Bay) with this, as it was the heavier of our choices. There was a Zin, but it wasn’t up to the task, and I thought the sauvignon blance and the chardonnay would be buried. (Although the chardonnay was a Stone Creek from Behringer).
I’d mentioned the washrooms before, and so I need to include at least one shot of the facilities.
Okay, let’s make that two shots.
The path to the loo wound down past an open fire pit that they had on the go, should that meet our desires.
That’s a big part of this. The pampering. That feeling that, whatever you want, they’ll make it happen. There may be turmoil in the nation, red shirts on the street, and chaos in the markets, but for right now, everything is okay.
I returned to a 3 way banana dessert, of which my photos are only of use for two of them. The missed part is a teacup of coconut (which our friend, A, had made earlier in the day). Banana cooked in coconut cream, with a bit of bpai dtoey (pandan leaf) put in for the boil, and then removed, imparting that odd smell you get from pandan.
In the middle was a banana fritter skewered on a bit of chive, and to the left, a fried banana with coconut and mint.
And dessert, of course, called for Irish coffee.
They brought the gear, whipped up some cream, and set about the ritual of the flame and the spoon.
The result was a very nice finish to the meal.
It just seemed wrong to let the fire go to waste, so we took our drinks down and sat near the flames for a bit.
Rule 11 of romance: pyromania and romance go together
We made one last visit to the bar for a final cocktail (midori, vodka, pineapple juice, and a bit of lime).
I worked over the Tuscan from the wine cellar, topped it up, and we retired to the tent.
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I think you're right, Hiroyuki.
The word they used was "flower" but that has a lot of leeway over there. I've gone back to the pictures of the Lao fern salad, and did some zooming:
The blanched version is on the left, in comparison to the dried material on the right, but they're definitely similar.
Thanks!
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In my mind, funk is different things for different things.
For wines, my nephew and I were trying to describe the "funk" of New Zealand Pinot Noirs. Pip from Hawkes Bay's Sileni was dead on with this, and put it down to an earthiness, or barnyard backdrop in the wines. "Barnyard" is a term I can work with.
Tim Butler, in describing Thai food, put it to the ferment that's allowed to go on with much of the food, giving it that additional "cook" that brings up a certain aroma (and which the health inspection folks won't let us do in North America). I walked in the door at the ferment room at the Kimchi Museum in Seoul...that was funky.
(Funk is a completely different thing to Peter Griffin on Family Guy. But that's another matter.)
For the purpose of spirits, I'd agree with the earlier posting that "funk" is a lot about what's left in the heads and tails of the distill. I believe that more of it is in the low end (the stuff we generally put a skull and crossbones over). There is also, as Kinsey said, a relationship to the element of fuesel oils that have collected in the pipes during the condensation. Those things are "nasty" (but easily cleared with salt and vinegar).
I put funk in spirits down more to issues in the distillation process. I'd have to say the low end distillates are going to carry those whack-o bits.
But strange can be good.
Has anyone made a cocktail with kimchi?
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Part 9 – Twelth Night (Actually, it was February 12)
I’m on shakey ground with that one, I know.
Returned to the camp we again took advantage of the Burma bar, entering through the candle-lit hall to the verandah overlooking the Ruak.
It was a quieter night. There were only ourselves and a very fun party of four in the Camp, several parties having left that morning. While this is not great for business, it does allow the staff to relax a bit.
I began wih my new favourite, the lemon grass martini. It’s not so much the lemon grass (that’s more of a smell) but rather the fresh lime and those chili flakes mixed in with the salt on the rim.
Yoonhi had a pina colada – rum Malibu, pineapple juice, and coconut milk (not water). The fresh juices make the difference to these cocktails.
I was in such a cheerful spirit that I forgot to take stills of the snacks – yam som o (pomelo salad), which came in a waffle cup. This was a brilliant idea, as the fried dough worked really well with the other elements in the yam.
There was also a fresh noodle spring roll (bo pia – not fried), vermicelli noodles intertwined with fresh herbs, touched with a sweet tamarind syrup.
And a bit of fish cake with a pickle.
These are the right sort of canapés for me.
Next for Yoonhi was Bamboo Leaves. She was being wise, and this was non-alcoholic, a collection of fruit juices – grapefruit, pineapple, mango, and cream soda.
I was researching beer. They had Myanmar at the bar, and I felt it my duty to give this a try.
Honestly, it’s not bad. It’s just that it’s not great, and pales in the shadow of Beer Lao (yes, I’m partisan, I know). This one comes across as lighter, and without the malt overtones. It is 5% by vol, and a lager, but it comes over as slightly insubstantial. It’s the sort of thing you drink when water is too expensive.
We talked with the other guests of travels in Vietnam, from where they’d just come. It sounds awfully tempting , and they’re good talkers. There’s one place in Hanoi with “the best spring rolls”, and does enough business that they have valet parking for the motor skooters.
We broke our conversation for a moment to approach the bar. I decided for a pina colada, as Yoonhi’s had been very good.
They also had a very good attitude regarding the current situation. Some would look at a trip like this, and bail, but they’d come to the realization that, as this vacation had been paid for some months back, before the collapse, if they’d cancelled, they would have just lost that money in the markets. This way, there’re good memories to show for it.
Things were quiet enough that Michel had the time to join us, and we could learn more about the camp. He’d opened the camp, and then had gone elsewhere for two and a half years, before returning. Perhaps the big realization for him had been the maintenance demands of the camp. It’s a continuous battle, as the jungle fights to reclaim its own.
With gardening and security all in, there are around 115 people working here to keep things running, and it certainly felt like at least that many as we observed the staff adjusting and manicuring the grounds whenever we looked.
The camp occupies 250 acres. This was land that Heinecke had as part of the Anantara resort on the other side of the hill, and he’d been interested in doing something with it. Bill Bensley, the Bangkok based architect who’s been desiging some stunning resorts ( I have to get down to the Four Seasons at Koh Samui some day) was given a hand to work out the space. The result I’d been hiking around for the last two days.
I’m a city boy, I must admit, but I was really enjoying this place.
Michel was called away (the work never stops in the hotel business) and we absconded for the chill of the wine cellar. We were being lazy this evening, and used the 1960 Series 3 Defenders to take us back up to the main section of the camp.
Every night they put out a selection of wine and cheese in the cellar, should anyone care to partake.
Some blue, a chevre, a good hard piece of something I think was Dutch, a provolone, and another couple I couldn’t tie down
There were a couple of nice reds – a 2003 Villa Astinori, and the other a Spaniard; El Prado, a tempranillo cabernet.
And then, it was time for dinner.
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Great stuff sir! I look forward to your posts.
"Sir"? Man, I must be looking really old.
(Thanks, Jon!
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Part 8 – RuaknRolla
Tour time.
We started by boat. Khun Ti was our guide. I managed my bulk back into the shallow vessel, and then we set out to beat the land speed record again.
I like these boats. There’s no messing about with poles or sails. Just a big engine and you go fast.
We were down the Ruak to Sop Ruak (Sop is the confluence of one river with another), a smooth run. And then, at the end of Ruak, we hit the Maekhong, and the ride changed beat to that jostling, banging tune that’ll clear out kidney stones after ten minutes.
I’ve a fond spot in my heart for this big muddy river. I’d seen it first at this very spot (or within a few hundred meters) way back, and had dreamed of Laos across the water. Since then I’ve followed it almost everywhere I can (although I still haven’t been in the Delta in Vietnam….maybe a trip one of these days….). It moves with a steady grace only occasionally broken by the distress of falls (as at Don Khone) or rapids (upstream in Sip Sawng Panna). With the Chinese dams, however, we’ll have to see what will happen.
The other trip I should do at some point is get to Nong Kai for the Naga’s Fireballs. Every year balls of fire erupt from the river, the source of which is still a matter of some controversy - pockets of gas, the Lao having fun, or nagas lurking in the depths after a Mexican bean fest? - but it's not as much of a hot topic as it was when Mekong Full Moon Party (Sibha kham doan sib ed) was released back in 2002
Our last visit here was four years ago, and there were some new things to see.
We switched out of the boat and into a songthaew, the covered open backed pick up trucks that can move huge numbers of Thais about….or myself and two other people.
One of the new things is the Hall of Opium. This has been developed under the auspices of the Mae Fah Luang Foundation, (for the late Queen Mother who put a lot of her effort into improving the lives of the Hill Tribes in the North), and is quite the project. We weren’t allowed to film inside, but it does provide an excellent (if somewhat biased) view of the development of the drug trade. As much of the production work was done in the PRC, some facets of the modern trade’s development tend to be overlooked, and others rather one-sided (“Bad English. Bad!”). A good read on this topic can be found in the later chapters of Sterling Seagrave’s Lords of the Rim. (One of my Bangkok friends passed me a copy years back, and I must hunt it down in the mess I call a library here at home.)
But, editorial issues aside, it’s a beautifully put together museum, and very much worth the visit. I could have spent much longer here going over the details (how does your brain respond to opiates?) but we were on a clock.
More dear to my heart was a trip to the market.
The songthaew rattled and hummed down through Sop Ruak to the larger, older city of Chiang Saen – the ancient capital of the Lanna Kingdom, and sister city to Luang Prabang.
But that was then, this is now.
Now it was a riot of bright yellow flowers, bicycles, shops, and Chinese warehouses. Chiang Saen has become the major entrepot for trade with the PRC up the Maekhong, and there are boxes and boxes of fresh produce from Yunnan stacked upon the streets in front of Chinese businesses.
While it’s not the quiet dream it was 20 years ago, I do feel good seeing people’s lives improve, and there is a distinct air of prosperity about the town now.
But, back to the market. This was the highlight of the day for me. I’d taken a beating earlier, but now I’d earned my reward.
Like most Asian markets, it spills noisily out of the dark confines of the official market, with limes, and cabbage, and capiscums, and onions, and such hazardous substances as chilis winking at you in the sunlight.
Just inside the entryway I found what I was looking for. Ant eggs and larva. I’d thought of this as primarily an Isaan thing, but they had both the larger eggs and smaller ones on sale. These are what I’d been eating a few months back at Vientiane Kitchen.
Now, can someone tell me if these eggs are muot daeng (red ant) or something else? As a Green, I’m always colour conscious.
This just kept getting better. After having realized in Vancouver that I’d never had honeycomb, I find two slabs of it just sitting here.
Yoonhi wouldn’t let me buy it to bring home, no matter how many times I called her “honey”. (I consoled myself by watching The Bee Movie with Seinfeld, instead).
Who needs Easter as an excuse to colour your eggs. Pickled chicken eggs, black on the inside.
No comments on this photo from you lot out there.
We did buy some more nehm, and I’ve loaded up on more of the mystery sausages. I’ll have to post about these after I’ve opened them up and eaten them. This nehm is nice in that it’s a much thicker sausage than the usual brands I buy in Bangkok.
I also found the kapok “silk” that was used in the broth the other day, and grabbed some of it, along with more hung lay powder, and some of the local chili powders.
Khun Ti was having a great time. I gather that not a lot of the guests pull out their wallets this quickly to stock up on produce.
Sauces and oils, vinegars and soy. The garlic up here in the North is smaller, but far superior in flaour to Central Thailand (in my opinion).
There were the usual tables full of neon colour sweets in baggies.
And this was something I didn’t think I’d find. Khai, or what I always used to refer to as river weed. This was available both in its harvested form, and in the dried and seasoned sheets I love so much.
I was surprised in that the literature indicated that this was native to a small number of tributaries of the Maekhong around Luang Prabang. So I’m not certain if it’s harvested down here, too, or if this was brought downriver (LP isn’t that far away).
I bought some. It’s light, and it’s not sticky like the honeycomb.
I also picked up another branch of sai khan, the spicy, peppery wood that’s used in or lam (Luang Prabang “stews”).
And they had frogs. Frogs, like I say, that taste a lot more like chicken in some of these places than the chicken does.
This shot makes me think of the Wind in the Willows gone wrong, for some reason.
This was another local flower collected in the woods. I didn’t have my notebook handy, and without writing out the Thai my transliteration would’ve been useless anyways, I suspect. Can anyone identify this and its use?
Here we go. More hazardous materials. Lemon grass, galanga, and they’ll probably find a reason to put kaffir lime leaf on the list soon enough.
And this shot makes me wish I had a kitchen to work with up here.
We saw one of the fish make a break for it. It had managed to leap clear of its basin and had hopped about two meters away under the stools before the fishmonger could catch it and put it back. I’d’ve been tempted to set it free just for trying, but I’m a softy. (I'd still eat it, though)
And pork. Well, pork is just plain good. What can I say? I had to nose about a bit, but I found it.
The deli section was the usual tempting selection of curries and stews, yams and pickles. Standing there admiring them, one older lady came by and offered me some fresh khao niao. I balled up bit and she walked off chuckling.
And soon enough we were coming back into the daylight, with just a few sacks of stuff more than when we entered.
And now we switched from songthaew to tuktuk, our driver a firm fan of AedCarabao’s Carabao Daeng energy drink.
I suppose I should try a bottle of the stuff some time, but I’ve avoided M150, Carabao Daeng, and little bottles with old people’s faces on them for so long, I don’t really feel like breaking with tradition just yet.
Now we were off to see the older part of the town – the oft visited Wat Chedi Luang. Again, a site I’ve visited many times before, and never tire of. I think we even recognized the dogs barking at us.
As I said, I like the prosperous feel of Chiang Saen these last few years. And part of that prosperity has bled over into the maintenance of the old temples. There are more monks, and the structures are being looked after now.
Red bricks, moss, jungle, the bo tree propped up with coloured poles, and that late afternoon golden light always give me a very sabaii feeling in this part of the country.
And then, I found what I’d been looking for.
When I travel, I try to obsess on some object which I know will be difficult to find. Then, when confronted with the typical vendor bothering me to buy something, I’ll ask for the object of my desire, and, most times, they’ll back off, admitting they don’t have that.
Of course, for the rare time when they do have it, then you’d really better want it.
The old lady by the temple had it.
A mit mor.
She was in a panic she’d lose me, and she raced from stall to stall, and locked case to locked case to find the little thing. But she finally did find it, and I bought it (after some haggling, of course.
The mit mor is a knife used in exorcisms by the mor phi. It’s often like this, a small, ceremonial blade inscribed with Pali. (For a traditional view, take a look at P, or for a much more manly MTV mit mor, check out the film Garuda ).
You never know, it could come in handy.
Khun Ti was even more amused.
We sped back to the market and transferred to song thaew, and from there back to the boat landing.
This was working into a near perfect day. Drugs, markets, temples, Beer Lao dam, sacks of fun groceries, a happy wife, and a new knife.
There was just one thing missing.
Next: cocktails!
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Thank you for starting another intriguing report. I'm curious about the beer, Lao. How do you describe its flavor?
Hi, Hiroyuki!
The lager is just backed off a bit from crisp, with very good malt filling out the body. The hops are not too forward, so you don't have much bitterness to it. It's just labelled as a lager, but is more like a pilsener, with a certain gold to the colour.
The story of this beer is that it was originally a French brewery, in those days way back when, and, when the government fell, East Block foreigners moved in.
In those days, if you were cursed, the Russians would show you how to make beer.
The Lao were blessed, and instead they were aligned with the Czechs from Pilsener Urquell. The head brewer (a very pleasant lady) was taken to Czechoslovakia, and learned her methods there. Even though the Czechs are gone, she's still looking after things.
I have a recent (last two years) interview with her I should dig up. But maybe I'll save the writing of that for my next trip to Laos.
P.S. - more sake coming soon
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"..... also your mention of razor clams. I assume they get them trucked in from the South China Sea? Are they very fresh-tasting when they get that far inland?
Thanks, Pan
I'd go with your assumption, as I haven't seen these before in the markets drawing from the Gulf of Siam or the Andaman Sea. But the Thai fishing fleets are moving farther and farther afield (haven't the Somalis grabbed a couple of Thai fishing boats?)
I have a question back. I've heard the term "bamboo clams" used. Are these the same thing?
Cheers,
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Part 7 – Somebody’s Gonna Get A Beatin’
(note: if you haven’t watched Russell Peters, then you should)
Birdsong again.
I can get used to that.
I suppose the sane response to a night like the one previous would be to sleep in until noon.
I’m not often accused of sanity, though.
We needed to see the baby elephants.
Rule 7 of romance: let her see all the cute babies she wants to. Its far better to time-share than to have our own kids around
(I’ll probably pay for that one later)
At 8:00 a.m. they troop up to the restaurant for their feeding. Bananas. They really like bananas.
I wonder how they’d do with a daquiri?
We started, of course, with more fruit. Whether you eat it (as I was doing) or drink it in a smoothie (as Yoonhi was doing).
Of course, we generally peel our fruit first.
The Four Seasons makes their own smoked salmon from Pacific fish, so I was looking forward to this on a bagel with some cream cheese.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a bagel.
And Yoonhi had eggs benedict. Again, not something we’ve had for a long time. The lemon in the Hollandaise sauce making for a nice wake-up.
I took my first opportunity in days to leaf through the Bangkok Post. It’s two days old when we get it up here, but it’s not something I read with a sense of immediacy anyways. I just like having my coffee, assessing the state of the world, and commenting furiously upon the more inane parts.
For instance:
I think I mentioned, back in July, that garlic had been placed on the list of controlled substances? Well, the government was continuing in fine form.
They had now listed 13 items as hazardous material.
Are you ready? Here they come:
- chili
- turmeric
- ginger
- neem
- citronella grass
- galanga
- African marigold
- Siam weed
- Tea seed cake
- Chinese celery
- Ringworm bush
- Glory lily
- Stemona
It seems a certain proportion of the farming community has been turning to these as an alternative to Monsanto and the boys for pest control in the fields, and so the government has stepped in to regulate matters “for the farmers’ protection”.
Regulate the use of chili? In this country?
Remind me to start ranting about the tax on wines later on.
But, we finished our coffee and juice, and so looked to our schedule. Following breakfast, our next stop was the spa.
Yoonhi really likes a massage. Yoonhi had Scud go to massage school in Chiang Mai so he could give her a proper massage. She went, too, so she could tell if he was doing it right.
You get the picture. She likes a massge
Myself, I’d onlyl had one massage before. That was in Chiang Mai when we were there together a few years back. Being ignorant, I followed Yoonhi’s lead. She said “Thai style”, I said “Thai style”. She said “Hard”, I said “Hard”.
At some point I think the masseuse was supporting her body weight on my spine collar bone with her elbow.
I hurt for a week.
You know, I could achieve the same effect for a lot less money simply by going into any bar and insulting peoples’ mothers.
Be more fun, too.
But, Yoonhi wanted a spa treatment.
Rule 8 of romance: be prepared to take a beating for your woman
Rule 9 of romance: show no pain
The setting of the spa here is stunning. It’s back up a gulley, built on the cliff and facing out to vacant jungle on the other side.
We went through the process, and this time Yoonhi told them “Medium for me, soft for him.”
Okay, it wasn’t as bad as last time, but there are still a lot of body parts there that don’t want this sort of treatment.
By now it was pushing 11:30, and so it was time for lunch.
We started with mieng kham. Okay, I have a confession to make. In an earlier topic, I’d thought the leaves to be bpai cham poo, the leaves of the rose apple. I saw the leaves, and they looked right, and had a the same waxy feel. But these were bpai cha ploo – or betel nut leaves.
Didn’t taste too bad with the other leaves, though.
Anyways, these came prepacked, and the leaves had been lightly crisped. Inside were the roasted coconut, ginger, garlic, shallot, and dried shrimp, and outside were the accompanying lime and chili.
They brought me my favourite assortment of sausages – nehm and sai eua.
Here’s a close up of the carved food for OniGiri.
On the side was nam prik, or rather nam prik num – “young guy” nam prik. And, again, as at Chiang Rai, the vegetables were cooked. And again, as at Chiang Rai, this dipping sauce slowly built up to a painful crescendo.
I much prefer this to a massage.
And there was khao niao. Fresh and warm. I balled some up in my right fingers, and dipped into the sauce.
And, remember how happy I was when I found out they had cans of Beer Lao lager?
Does life get better than this, I ask?
Next: Life gets better
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Part 6 – Bordering on Dinner (or Dining on the Border)
After a bit of time in the hot tub with a Chardonnay, Yoonhi and I cleaned up and changed for the evening. The dress code is casual at the camp, but there’s a limit to such things.
We made for the Burma Bar, at the far end of camp. This is the spot to take in the sunset , and who am I to miss out on an excuse for drinking?
It did take some time to walk there, especially with the stiffness from the elephant riding still working our thighs, but we made it with time to spare, and, the bar being empty still, we took up a good spot, looking down on the Ruak and across to the elephant grounds.
I had a Beer Lao (just because I could) and Yoonhi began with Opium. It seemed the right thing for where we were. Light rum, dark rum, crème de cacao dark, lime juice, and light coke.
We were slowly joined by others from the camp, but, for the most part, people quietly took in the falling light and the tranquility.
Next (there’s always a next) Yoonhi tried a Velvet Kiss. Champagne with Amaretto. The Amaretto just rounded off the edges of the Brut.
I felt like a margarita. The fact that there was a good selection of Patron behind the bar pshed me in that direction (or rather pulled me, it’s an attractive tequila), and I indulged, this being one of the few items not included in the package.
It was a mix of Patrons reposada, and anejo, with cointreau, orange juice, and very fresh lime juice. The thin skinned limes here gave it a good tartness to go with the more complex flavours of the anejo.
Plus, it was cold and wet. And I like salt.
Some bar snacks arrived; beef (neua) laab in spoons; cabbage with fish and chili; and egg wrapped about tofu. To the side were some sweet potato “chips” to give my teeth a workover.
We liked the toothpicks. Made here from a shred of bamboo.
Back at the bar, I asked about the local drinks. Our bartender, Khun Ed, addressed me to the tray at my left shoulder.
On the right was bottle of Golden Dragon Springs Old Myanmar Whisky (bottled in Myawadee). Beside it was a bottle of Lao Whisky, and another lao khao beside it.
And then there was the “special”.
The special was on the right. Snake whisky, or rather snake soaked lao khao. Beside it was a bottle of commercial lao khao. I didn’t know they had commercial moonshine. I always thought you just dropped in on Somchai at his farm and picked up a gallon or ten in a fuel drum.
As moonshine goes, it’s not bad, but it’s a single pass distillation, so there’s a lot of edginess about it. The dead snake helps to cover over some of that. Side by side, I’d have to say I preferred the snake.
The bar was filling by this point, and everyone had had enough to be talkative. I enjoy talking with people who like to travel, and you weren’t here in the Triangle if you don’t like to travel.
The lemon grass martini looked interesting, and I tried this next. Lemon grass infused vodka is the base, wih triple sec, cointreau, and lime juice, and a bit of olive juice.
Arguably closer in taste to a margarita, especially with the salt and chili flake rim, but a very good cocktail.
I had another.
My notes start getting a little fuzzy after this.
We repaired to the dining room after this, and took a table along the edge of darkness.
They’d put a fairly simple menu for me, but one I appreciated.
First, a duck salad, a pretty little thing, stacked up, with a bit of basil oil painted on the plate.
And then tom kha kai, with acne like pools of chili oil drifting lazily about. The broth of this brought me back together a bit. Chicken soup is a tonic for everything.
Grilled chicken breast, well marinated and with that taste of wood fire on it. Not in the photo, but well enjoyed, was a bamboo basket of sticky rice – khao niao. The basket helps to retain the moisture, so it doesn’t dry out.
And som tam, all fire and anger. This definitely brought me back to this planet.
From the table, I could see another bar around the fire place. Obviously, this was a sight I still needed to take in (we only had two nights, after all).
Khun Ed had moved up here from the Burma Bar, and I talked him into trying something. We used white rum, coconut water, and lychees.
I’m coming to the conclusion that coconut water isn’t a great basis for a cocktail. Too thin, with no bottom to it.
Still, if I don’t try these things, I’ll never learn.
So I had a whisky sour instead.
The camp operates on the same premise as a British hotel bar. If you’re a guest, they’re open as long as your mouth is. But it seemed unfair to keep them tied down for much longer, so I made my way back to the tent.
Rule 6 of romance: when its time to go to sleep, go to sleep
Tomorrow’s another day.
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On the subject of elephants.
I’ll make a plug here. But not a shameless one.
Everyone, I’m sure, is aware of the role elephants played in Asia. Effectively, they’re the heavy lifters of industry, and were a key part of the forestry business in particular.
But, even more so than the water buffalo, the elephant has largely been displaced by modern equipment (the one-man roto-tillers sold by the Japanese that pushed out the buffalo are referred to sometimes as “Japanese buffalos”). With fewer and fewer jobs in the industry, a large number of mahouts have taken their charges to the big city, and you’ll find them ensconced in soi Nana and Cowboy, and also on Yaowarat.
Pavement is hard on an elephant’s feet.
The government has been trying to get the elephants off the street, and set up the Thai Elephant Conservation Centre (TECC). The Tented Camp’s elephant program has been developed under the sponsorship of the TECC. They’ve been locating distressed elephants,, particularly young ones, and bringing them to the camp.
It’s a good program, as they also bring in the mahouts with their elephants. Otherwise, if you just pay a price for the elephant, the mahout is quite likely to go and find another one to try and sell, just continuing the cycle.
It costs about 30,000 baht a month to take care of the elephants. Donations for their care can be made through www.elephantfamily.org (tax deductible in the US or Europe).
If you are a US citizen, and want to make a tax effective gift, you’ll need to fill out a CAFAmerica Gift Form at www.allaboutgiving.org/static/giving.aspx and type in Elephant Family in the charity search box.
As much as possible, the camp has tracked the history of their elephants. Here’s the story on Yoonhi’s ride – Pang Boonma.
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sigh....
It's my fault.
We started off with VD, then it came down to asparagus envy, laap dancing, and now we're all talking about a case of crabs.
I'd better get back on track.
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The soft shell crab looks very good. Can you get coconut crab (Birgus latro) there? I've been fantasizing about this bizarre creature since learning about it last week.
Coconut crabs! Cool. I'd seen pictures of these before, and just lumped them in as land crabs. The claws are what gets my attention in the photos.
But, checking out the wiki habitat map, it looks like they didn't land on the mainland (or, if they did, they were quickly eaten). It does look like they may be present in the Philippines, though, so I think we'll have to talk Rona into finding some on her next trip there!
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That's it, I can't take any more pictures of slabs of pork belly.
I'm going back.
March 16.
Penis worms beware.
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That be one NICE tent btw. Er, btw, I was surprised there was no comment on how phallic the spear looked in the laap.
I was thinking of making a reference to laap dancing, but I couldn't quite rise to the occasion.
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I recent ate at a Little Sheep Mongolian Hot Pot restaurant in the San Diego, CA area. I ordered the half and half (1/2 mild and 1/2 spicy broth in a divided pot). the metal pot sat on an induction heater flush with and in the middle of the table. herbs and spices were in the broth and there were no dipping sauces. it was great and I look forward to dining there again soon.
MI units are the way to go for table top hot-potting. I'm convinced of it now. No gas canisters to worry about, and instant on-off.
Since picking up the MI unit last summer, and the ying-yang pot just before that, we've taken to doing hot point any time the fridge starts getting too full of stuff.
As said earlier, there aren't any skills involved (which fits my competencies), just a really sharp knife.
This time it was beef tripe, bamboo, shitakes, button mushrooms, brocolli, cabbage, carrots, beans, and some other stuff we dragged kicking and screaming out of the back of the crisper section.
Maybe I'll pick up some lamb for tomorrow......
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Part 5 – Dahling! You Look Mahvelous
You probably noticed that, in the last shot, Yoonhi’s moved to the blue denim look.
Rule 5 of romance: always compliment her on her fashion sense
Our second item on this day’s itinerary would be mahout training.
But our first item would be lunch.
It’s a pretty room. Rustic, but all of the finishing is just right, as you’d expect from the Four Seasons. The kitchen is detached, but not so far away that there’s a worry of the food cooling of en route.
Beautifully appointed, and, I was very keen on seeing how it would look at night, in the softer light.
But all of this is just rubber-necking. I needed a drink. I had my coconut, and now the weather, and my denim, called for beer.
Beer Lao. I was so happy.
(Actually, I’d asked Michel earlier if they had Beer Lao, and he responded “Of course! I make certain we keep it stocked.”)
Yoonhi had a glass of chardonnay – Antares from Chili, 2006 - and the staff brought out some prawn crackers and chili dip.
I think beer was the better choice.
I started with a Lao salad – yam pok kood – with moo laab worked in with rice vermicelli, backdropping the blanched fern. Two plump prawns rested atop, one clutching a spear of asparagus. There was a good solid burn to this, indicative that when you ask for it spicy, they give you what you want.
Yoonhi had ordered the tan tay poo nim – soft shelled crab on a Lao salad of cucumber, the paa dek smell coming up from the dressing . The cucumber, cut long diagonally, was muscled about with peanuts and chili seeds. Yoonhi had ordered hers medium hot, but mine was pleasantly brutal, with the cucumber taking away some of the pain (and the Beer Lao).
For a main course, Yoonhi ordered the khnom jeen narm ngeiw, a Burmese style rice noodle soup. She took one sip and said, “This is guk su.” (Flour noodles) There were strands of bracken fern in it, and an intriguing broth.
We asked about the broth. It’s a pork stock (which is a good thing) with chili and herbs. What gives it the particular flavour we were picking up was from the flower of the kapok tree. This is the same material – cotton silk – that I saw falling like snow at the Four Seasons Chiang Mai years back.
I popped out to the washroom, and was suitably impressed. It’s about the size of my entire hotel room when we first went to Paris. And there’s a gramaphone. To what end, I know not, but it looks cool.
My main course was kaow ram fuen – Shan Burmese noodles with pork and prawns. Michel had recommended this to me earlier, describing it as a Burmese lasagna.
It comes as a thick, orange sheet of noodle embracing a patty of ground pork and herbs in its midst, three prawns resting atop this blanket. To describe it as “lasagna” is quite accurate, and it achieves that same level of comfort food.
Filling, I know, but I happily finished it all.
And for dessert? There was a nice selection, but fruit seemed the best choice on a day like today. Pineapple, pomelo, papaya, some dragon fruit, and rose apples.
We’d lingered over lunch, and so were boated around to the elephant grounds. As I’d said, the Camp is sparsely built, and it’s a long way between one end to the other, built as it is along the twists of the river.
Mahout training was, of course, limited, as we only had three hours. But it was much more satisfying than I’d expected.
We’d been on elephants before, at Tiger Tops, but then you’re in a platform, while the mahout takes you through the jungle in pursuit of the big cats. Honestly, I found that quite tiring after awhile, the platform rocking about and shuddering with each footfall.
This had the benefit of being tactile, your knees up behind the elephant’s ears, and your hands resting on the two lobes atop its head.
My pachyderm was Pang Bo, and Yoonhi was atop Pang Boonma.
I felt particularly close to Bo once I realized we shared similar issues with male pattern baldness (except she’s not a male).
They took us through the basic commands, and how to drive the elephant with our feet and hands, running the slalom, and working through different methods of mounting and dismounting.
And then we were off for a bit of trekking. Perhaps a 90 minute wander through the jungle, down to the river and cool off.
It was wet.
Coming back through the tall grass, growing more used to the gait of Pang Bo, was one of those particularly pleasant moments in life.
The trainers told us to keep talking to them, to repeat their name for reassurance. For me it was easy, as I told Bo about Serena’s latest favourite manga character – Bo bo bo bo bo bo.
It’s just neither Bo nor I had enough hair for the part.
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Part 4 – A Tent for All Seasons
I have a fondness for Land Rovers.
My parents had said that the only way they could settle me down as a baby was to take me out for a rattle and hum around Vieux Forte in the Rover.
My first new car was a Series 1 Discovery, and my second a Series 2.
I just like them, and, as long as they’re leaking oil, you know that you’re okay.
And so, when I found that our ride was a Series 3 Discovery, I cheerfully bundled myseslf into the front seat with my video and shot away, our chauffeur somewhat surprised that I wasn’t sitting in the back with madame.
Rule 4 of romance: give her some space (when you need it)
For me, the North isn’t about the cities. It’s about the mountains, the jungle, the people, and the rice fields.
When you see the fields at this time of the year, there’s a colour to them I can’t quite capture in a camera (but we’ll see how the video turns out). Especially in the gloaming, it’s almost golden.
And, as OniGiri says, there’s that smell.
It’s a good smell.
As we passed through the green, we would come across clusters of farmers, moving purposefully forward as they planted the next crop of paddy, little bundles of plant poking up like a hair transplant that just goes on for miles. They’d stop and wave, and we’d wave back.
Along the road food was clustered, like with like. One stretch of road had twenty stands selling small, sweet pineapples. Other stretches (several) were selling Mandarin oranges (it was the season).
And others were selling strawberries, flashes of red as we sped by.
After perhaps an hour of this, a large smile plastered on my face, we arrived at, literally, the end of the road.
And the start of the next leg.
The Four Seasons' Tented Camp. I remember when the camp had first opened three years back. From that point on, the staff in Bangkok were always wondering if I’d been there yet.
So, I had to go.
This was half the reason for coming to Thailand for Valentine’s (and we’ll get to the other half later). As I’d said, I wanted to pamper Yoonhi with this trip, but I also wanted to entertain her. She doesn’t do well with lethargy.
And so, we were come to the Golden Triangle, that bit of land bounded by Thailand, Burma, and Laos, with China’s Sip Sawng Panna looming just beyond (I prefer the Lao spelling).
The order of business was to transfer to a small boat to travel down the Ruak (Bamboo) River to the camp itself. Our luggage would continue by road. The Ruak demarcates Thai and Burmese soil, spilling out at Sop Ruak into the Mekong, where the PDR Laos hold the East bank.
Yoonhi was immediately struck by the similarity to Little Governors in the Masai Mara – except here we had the benefit of high speed, as opposed to pulling along a rope. We whipped up the Ruak, wending between Thai and Burmese waters as we dodged fish traps and shallows.
Our guide pointed out the Burmese casino. If they ever do legalize gambling in Thailand, it will probably wipe out half the GDP of the surrounding countries. Mind you, most of these are owned by Thais, so it’s questionable how much benefit they are to the local economies.
Approaching the camp, you’re struck by the sparseness. This is very much a place to get away from things, and only hosts 30 guests at a time in their 15 tents.
We arrived and announced our presence by gong, although I suspect the roar of the outboard engine had been a more effective presage. Michel Volk, the GM, met us, as he does every guest, and welcomed us to the camp as we enjoyed another coconut.Michel reviewed our itinerary with us, and we switched our watches over to “camp time”. They operate on Burmese time, which is a half hour out of synch.
We were in Tent #3. Each tent is decorated with a different theme.
They placed me in The Culinary Arts tent.
I suspect this was on purpose (but I didn’t mind).
Now, there are tents, and there are tents. I’ve worked in the bush in the Territories and the interior of BC, and have stayed in tents that were relatively well settled (which means “floors” in my definition), to fly camps that were canvass, pegs, and a hewn pole, good for the night, and then you move on.
My position, when people had suggested we go camping for fun, had evolved after three field seasons to “Why would I go camping for free when I get paid to do it? Will we have helicopter support?”
When we travelled in Kenya, I saw a whole new world of tents on the Masai Mara. Floors, furnishings, plumbing. And I’ve spent time since then in felt lined gers and Bedu tents with air conditioners. It’s not as bad as it was in the old days.
Still, though, humanity has spent millennia working it’s way up to civilized dwellings. Why devolve?
But this is a whole ‘nother world of tent.
It rests on a large wooden platform, with a deck projecting out over the cliff edge, the road access winding beneath. The tent “doors” are double zippered, one layer a clear plastic to guard against weather, the other mesh to guard against mosquitos.
Binoculars were on hand for bird spotting, if that was our wish, and a set for betel nut, if I was bent that way (it would almost be worth it just to terrify my dental hygienest upon return).
There’s a bathroom to the side, and an “outdoor” shower, and, in pride of place, there’s a standing tub.
I want that tub.
There was a well stocked bar (all in as part of the package), and fresh Mandarins.
And, of course, as with all good tents, there’s WiFi.
I could seriously reconsider my position on camping.
(note: edited for fruit dyslexia)
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Part 3 – Movin’ On Up
We woke to birdsong. No cars, no trains, no trucks, no political loudspeakers.
Just birds.
Breakfast. Some claim it to be the most important meal of the day. Myself, I find it gets in the way of lunch.
But Yoonhi believes in a good breakfast, and I’m not about to disagree.
Sitting in the Legend’s restaurant, with the sun lighting up the river, I settled into idea of the most important meal of the day.
Doi Chaang is an interesting coffee. It’s an “ultra-dark roast” according to the posted review, with “a gently pungent, delicately rich cup with a shimmer of cardamom-toned spice and scorched cedar complication.”
The interesting part is more in the travel path it takes. It comes from a sinlge estate in the Triangle, but is then taken to Alberta for roasting, and then brought back to Thailand. It’s a story of the growers coming together to take control of their product, cutting out the middlemen, and producing a product that they’re much happier with.
(As a coincidence, on the Gulf flight we’d been reading of Kallari chocolates who have a similar story. This again was an interesting coincidence, as Robert Steinberg of Scharffen Berger chocolates had helped them, and I’d enjoyed meeting him several years back at a WGF. Sadly, he passed away in September of 2007, but he used his time well)
Across the table, my better half was having her favourite breakfast.
Call it rice porridge, or congee, or juk, it never excites me as a meal, but it does look pretty topped with coriander, dried shallots, Chinese pickles, and whatever else was lying about.
Of course it’s only pretty for a moment, but perhaps there’s a lesson there in the transience of things?
Watching Yoonhi eat had the appropriate effect upon me, and I laid into the more Western meal of fried bacon, herbed pork sausages, and khao phad with some chilis and nam pla to perk things up.
And juice. Fresh pineapple juice, stripped of the cocktail ingredients of last night to clear the head, rather than fuddle it. I took two glasses in the one trip, to save me the exhausting walk back to the buffet.
Yoonhi excited me (she has that effect) by announcing the presence of donuts, but these weren’t really donuts, rather baked bread with chocolate toppings. My inner-Homer was outraged, but I stuffed him back into his corner. It was too nice a morning to take umbrage.
The highlight of the meal was unexpected. Yogurt. Home made. It was sweet on its own, and extremely satisfying. Used as a delivery system for fresh dragon fruit, melon, papaya, and (of course) pineapple, it was excellent. Even I had some.
Clean air, a light chill, and no hangovers. This was a good start. We retired to the room, closed our bags, and waited for our ride.
It was time to leave city life behind.
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Peaceful. The north just smells different. I miss hearing jao where ever you went.
And I can lapse into bo bpen nyang and not be laughed at!
That sandwich was interesting. Do you know what was in it?I didn't get a very good look at it, as I didn't intend to buy one, and I hate disappointing people. There was the tell-tale hot dog colour, and the orange of cheese.
Now I wish I'd had one.
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Part 2 – The True North, Brave and Free
It had been the better part of a day getting here, with the long stopover in Souvarnabhoumi in Bangkok, so we broke our journey with an overnight stay in Chiang Rai.
I am, as you’ve probably already guessed, a fan of Bangkok. A big fan.
But my heart is much more in the North, in the upper reaches of the Maekhong River.
There’s a graciousness that just hums about you. A sense of the importance of small details.
Consider, for instance, the trollies in the arrivals hall.
Yoonhi pointed this out. “They’ve aligned all of the carts to be as convenient as possible for the passengers. You don’t have to fight to get them unattached or anything…..just wheel them away.”
And once our flight had collected its luggage, the attendants wheeled out and arranged a new set.
Details.
As I’d mentioned, we were overnighting in Chiang Rai. A number of our friends had recommended The Legend, set back slightly from the city along Rim Kok river, close to the old bridge.
I always have fond memories of that bridge. It’s double the width now, but I remember 20 years ago coming down in the morning from town, and finding only cattle crossing it.
You get old, there’s more of the past to spend your time in.
The Legend was very pleasant. There were villas along the banks of the river, with their own private pools, but we weren’t going that far over the top just yet. Our rooms were in a block, with an entryway, bath, and semi-outdoor shower. The bedroom was big enough even for my bulk, and there’s a certain beauty to the functionality of mosquito netting.
It was late afternoon, and we wandered the grounds, coming to rest finally at the pool with a cold Heineken, watching the sun go down, and enjoying the quiet.
But it’s not all an idyll. Yoonhi likes to do things, and Chiang Rai now has a night bazaar, in competition with it’s Southern rival, Chiang Mai.
With only the one night, we were off to go shopping (and eating, of course).
We took the hotel van into town, and Yoonhi and I looked at the changes that had come to what used to the proverbial “sleepy little town”. We’d actually passed by a couple of years back when we looped out of Chiang Mai for a few days, but at that time we’d just skirted the town.
Now it’s become quite hemmed in, I’m sad to say. It’s not Bangkok, but it’s become more like Chiang Mai, with multi-story buildings dominating the heart of town, and the usual spread of Pizza Company and KFC.
Mind you, with that same growth comes more restaurants and food of every sort.
It was still light as the bazaar began setting up at 6 p.m. With Yoonhi’s tummy talking to her, we put aside shopping for the moment, and headed into the first place with tables.
This was your standard Night Bazaar restaurant and stage. The placards cheerfully advertised spaghetti, khao soi, steak frites, Northern curry, and just about anything else you could ask for.
We began with our first coconuts of the trip.
This will be heresy to some, but an ice cold coconut, taken as your first drink of the evening, may be better than a beer. We both started with these, scraping the meat out and nibbling on that pale white flesh, while working our way through the phone book of a menu that they had.
There was rice, of course, Thai jasmine, with its beautiful aroma. Straight from the paddies surrounding the city, to the mills, and to us. (Okay, there may be a few more middlemen in there).
For a curry, we had a gaeng som – a sour curry – with cha om, a “local vegetable”. This had pieces of omelet floating in the broth as well. A very full, tamarind-sour curry, with the eggs rounding it out and keeping our cholesterol up.
Along with sausage I’m very fond of mushrooms. When I saw hed nang fah on the menu – deep fried local mushrooms - I’d enthusiastically ordered them. But the delicacy of the fungus was, perhaps, lost under the batter. It’s not that it didn’t taste good, but it didn’t taste as much of mushrooms as I would have preferred.
“Ocean asparagus” was one of the items that commanded a page of its own in the menu. When they arrived, I thought at first it was more mushrooms, but biting it, it turned out to be razor clams – free of any grit and salted with the soy that the dish came in. And I also had the mushroom flavour I’d been looking for in the caps that came with the dish.
The Thai Northern hors d’ouvres was a selection of pork products. Rinds crispy fried; pate that had been seamed and then fried; sai eua – the quintessential Lanna sausage with it’s dry gristle and chilis,; nehm – all cheerful pink and chili green, a fermented sausage that I always have to have somewhere in the house; a centre piece of nam prik, the dipping sauce of the north, an evil green jungle of chilis; and the one concession to foreigners (although I may be wrong) boiled vegetables – beans, pumpkin, cabbage, and bitter gourd.
I say “I may be wrong” just that I’m used to having my cabbage and beans raw. I’ll be happy to stand corrected.
Oh, and don’t forget the chilis, peanuts, ginger, and garlic to take as you eat.
And the garlic….I’d forgotten about fresh Northern garlic and the fiery burn it has on its own. That, together with the slowly growing heat from the nam
If there was one regret to the meal, it was the beer. I’m not a big fan of Leo. It’s alright if it’s cold enough that you can’t taste it, but this beer, with a leopard on the label (Why is "Leo" for lions and not leopards?) has not been my favourite. Still, it’s survived the years since it was first released (coincidentally when DiCapprio was here shooting The Beach, and still riding the Titanic mania of the day), and survival counts for something (oh, what of Kloster? What of Amarin?).
Food having sated my teeruk’s noisome tummy, we started to look around for shopping.
Rule 1 of romance: food
Rule 2 of romance: shopping
While there’s a large overlap in material with Chiang Mai’s Night Bazaar, being in the North guarantees a certain quirkiness and individuality to be found if you look around. There was plenty of coffee and tea for sale, with a number of Chinese green teas from Doi Mae Salong, the old KMT bastion along the Burmese border, all embellished with fairies and women in long gowns. I bought couple of kilos of the Hana Arabica “naturally low in caffeine” for Yoonhi, who can’t take coffee after lunch for fear of being awake all night.
And that’s been another pleasant change. In the old days, I’d have to carry my own coffee to Thailand. What passed for coffee then was either an unpleasant, over-roasted thing, or Nescafe. Nescafe is what they put out in the good places.
Before you get up in arms, though, my comments do not apply to Thai coffee as a drink, strained through condensed milk and loaded with syrup, and a joy on a hot day with ice (but more on that later….if I remember).
If you’re there, and you’re interested in the funky, then I’d recommend 9 Shop. It’s in shop number 12. Trust the Thai to take the concept of Gothic and make it bright and cheerful. We bought hand painted high-tops for Serena, and t-shirts in primary colours, hand painted with little zombie children saying “Hello” rather than “brainsssss!”.
Zombie children had me in a good mood, and when we turned the corner on that row of shops, I was pushed over the top of elation by what I found.
A food court!
I missed the food courts from Chiang Mai. Offal, sausages, and just strange stuff, all for the price of almost nothing.
I could say that I regretted having spent so much of my appetite in the tourist haven next door, but I’d be lying. Except for the deep fried mushrooms, it had been excellent.
But this just appealed to me.
Consider this – a whole fish, steaming solely ( as opposed to a whole sole, steaming fishly) buried under limes, chilis, and cabbage.
Or these fried and grilled beauties. They were placed before me, frish from the oven. Wisps of steam escaped from their beaked mouths.
And looking above them, there was a huge selection of pig parts.
I couldn’t help myself. I ordered the intestines.
Unfortunately, they weren’t cleaned well enough for my taste. They had that background remnant taste of intestine, which detracted from the joyful chewiness I was looking for.
To console myself, I looked about and was sorely tempted by the sausages. It just seemed like fate.
But Yoonhi returned at this point, and we moved off to other parts of the market before I could start a real binge.
These “sandwiches” took me a moment to recognize. A single slice of bread wrapped around the filling and secured with a toothpick, and then heated in the steamer.
And then I saw these. Like a cross between khnom krok and takoyaki. I had to have them.
They actually sort of tasted like takoyaki, with minced up bits of seafood in there., but taken Thai-ways with fresh basil and a dipping sauce of chili, cucumber, and vinegar.
These were good.
We shopped, and browsed, and shopped some more. When we had enough bags, I figured it would be convenient to sit and wait somewhere while Yoonhi continued to shop.
Across the street from the Bazaar was a presentable looking spot – Aye’s Restaurant (“shy”?). I took a table up front, and looked for sausage.
And, yes, they had their own homemade sai eua. I ordered a plate of this, and a Coco Londoner.
While I waited for my order, there was an interesting conversation at the public phone in front of the 7-11 next door. I wouldn’t call it eavesdropping, as everyone in the front half of the restaurant could here this farang yelling into the receiver.
“I only have $200 left in my account.”
“No, I don’t know what happened.”
“Mom, I need this!”
“Don’t you leave me stranded here! Mom!”
<sound of telephone receiver being smashed against phone box>
He must have had my broker.
Mai sabaii, but he left soon after.
The sausages were excellent, although I almost took out a tooth on a hard bit of something in there. The Coco Londoner was a disappointment, however. It was gin and lime added to the coconut water. A little thin for a cocktail.
But you have to try new things, I say.
We took a tuktuk back to the Legend. This is still the land of tuktuks and samlors, with no motodops or taxi meter about. We dropped our bags in the room, swabbed ourselves in DDT, and drifted down to the riverside to enjoy the night, the roar of the tuktuk still ringing in our ears.
For everything good, there is something bad to balance it. But I try to focus on the good.
And in Thailand, cocktails are good, and the perfect end to a night under the stars. Yoonhi had the Legend Palace – vodka, blue curacao, dom, and pineapple juice – and I had their Paradise At Chiang Rai, made of gin, countreau, pineapple juice, and orange juice. Both were satisfying, drawing heavily from the freshness of young pineapples.
We sipped at our drinks, admired the paper lanterns, and talked of our last 35 years together.
Rule 3 of romance: fruity cocktails
Travelogue: Valentine's Day in Thailand
in Elsewhere in Asia/Pacific: Dining
Posted
Part 13 – The Dawn of a New Valentine
I woke to the thrum of the BTS. A horn – muted – honked somewhere. There was the Klingon chatter of a truck-borne loudspeaker system.
Yoonhi slept soundly somewhere in the north forty acres of the bed. I could hear her, even if I couldn’t see her.
I let her sleep (we’re back to rule #12), and I read my paper, drank my coffee, and enjoyed another bath.
When I build my own home, I’m having a bath put in big enough for to stretch out like in these tubs. Big enough for two, and with a tray for books and drinks. Perhaps I’ll bring one from Japan, that will speak out when the water is ready, and remind me not to fill to high.
But, I’m dreaming again.
For the moment, this was a good tub.
Yoonhi stirred when it was the right time for her. It’s always a fight between the need for sleep and the need for food.
Food having won out, and it being too late for breakfast, we headed out.
Nothing much on the street met her fancy, so I took us over to Sukhumvit.
If nothing else, there was some shopping to be done, and Japanese to be had. I had a thirst upon me for sake.
Tsu & Nami
In a cruel strike of bad luck, the Marriott’s new Japanese restaurant opened with much fanfare just before the tidal wave of Christmas, 2004. It was a good name at the wrong time.
Since then, they’ve fought their way back up, and have earned a reputation as a very good (albeit expensive) Japanese restaurant.
I’d never been, but with my teeruk’s appetite moving to a dangerous stage, I felt it was a safe choice.
And besides, there’s the sake thing.
Unfortunately, we arrived at 11:15 to find that they open for lunch at 11:30. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, appetite and hunger are divided by a knife edge with my wife, and Valentine’s Day is not about suffering.
We stopped in at Asia Books, nearby in the basement of the Landmark. This would not be too far, and we could accomplish one of my few required tasks.
Or so I thought.
I was looking for Christopher Moore’s latest book Paying Back Jack. The young lady at the counter knew it well, and also knew it was sold out. But, with the grace of the Thai, she started phoning the other Asia Books outlets to try and find me one.
I started checking my watch, and glancing nervously at Yoonhi.. Rule #1 was coming into play again.
Ten minutes, and twenty phone calls later, the cashier was sorry to tell me that it was completely sold out.
But she could order it for me!
I smiled, and in a breath thanked her, but I was leaving town. A wai, and then I swept Yoonhi up and spirited her away to lunch.
Tsu and Nami. Tsu is the traditional, while Nami is modern teppan yaki. What Yoonhi wanted was sushi and sashimi, so it would be Tsu for us.
One of the things that drew me here is that they do sake tastings about once a month (and there’s a sake dinner coming up with the Chaine that I’m missing, darn it). Their sake menu is respectable, about 8 pages. Okay, some of that is used on explanations, and Gekkeikan and Hakatsuru own a lot of the space, but there’s still a very wide selection to draw from.
I start with a simple Ozeki Silver from Hyogo. It’s not fancy, but Hyogo has good water, and good rice. This’ll be the thing to put the taste back in my mouth.
We order the lunch special – the sushi and sashimi bento. Even the most expensive places in Bangkok offer very good value for their lunch. This bento set was the most expensive, but was still only 580 baht (okay, I’ll make up for that with sake).
The bento comes with a chawanmushi and soba on the side. The chawanmushi (steamed egg) reveals a pink rind of oden, gingko nut, dried shrimp, and shitake in its depths.
The restaurant itself is very slick looking, very modern. And Yoonhi is struck by the sense of space. There’s no crowding of tables here, with long stretches of space open for the staff to move through.
And Yoonhi also points out that here, in Bangkok, the uniformed women doing the window cleaning and general tending are dressed well enough to attend most formal cocktail parties in the West.
I oblige her and spend some time staring at the waitresses.
Where did that sake go?
For a second bottle, I ordered a hon nama. Unfortunately, I was spending so much time looking at the waitresses (as directed) that I forgot to write down the details of the brand and location, and my kanji isn’t up to the task. (Hiroyuki, step in anytime, please!)
I liked this sake more, I will say, with a fuller flavour, more mid tone.
And I shouldn’t forget our miso. The Thais provide a spoon for it, but I’m in the habit of drinking from the bowl.
The bento has tempura – prawns, taro, and carrots, and we eat these first, while they’re hot and crispy.
Then I turn to the croquette, with its sweet sauce, and after that the salmon.
I’m not worried about the sushi and sashimi going cold.
The sashimi is good enough, the octopus carring that wet taste of the sea I love, but the sushi doesn’t do much for me. As with many things, there’s nothing wrong with it, but the rice isn’t up to it. Sushi needs good rice.
We almost finish with the noodles, adding in the daikon and fixings, and slurping back the cold slipperiness..
The true finish is with one of the sweetest melons I’ve ever enjoyed.
Perhaps I shouldn’t expect too much of the lunch special, but I was more impressed with the décor than the food. This was a meal we had to have (given Yoonhi’s issues with hunger), but I think I’ll leave my future decisions on Japanese dining in Andre’s hands. Still, good value for the money (well, if you don’t drink a lot of sake, that is).
After lunch, it was a trip to the malls. We’d hoped to catch a movie (Bangkok’s theatres are ridiculously inexpensive, and very comfortable) but there wasn’t much we wanted to see (when is The Watchmen opening?). We contented ourselves with a tour of the food floor at Paragon, and a fashion stroll through Siam Centre.
Back at Paragon, I checked out Kinokuniya Books, and found a copy of Christopher’s book. One more thing was off my (short) list. And I lucked out and found Haruki Murakami’s latest “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running”.
This was turning out to be a good day.
Yoonhi had a good point, as we walked back up the interstation walkway towards Rachaprasong….
“You know, in Korea, when somethings the fashion, everyone is doing that. Here in Thailand, everything is individual. No two people will be dressed the same. Just look.”
Again, I grudgingly obliged her and spent some time staring at the women.
It’s a hard life, but I try to keep my wife happy.
Back a the room, the hotel had sent up a small snack for the late afternoon.
I love these little desserts, perhaps more for their detail and craft, but the flavour of bean has grown on me, and I know now what to expect when I bite in.
An exhausting day of not much. I like days like this.
Next – Valentine no kokoro (to bring things back to a Japanese tone of this post)