Beyond 52 Cuisines: #55 Eastern Thai

Bangkok, from the Chao Phraya River

This time last year I was in Thailand. I remember exactly when I was there, because Himself drew my valentine, scanned it and e-mailed it to me. Oh, I cried like a sap clutching that valentine on my iPhone screen in my hotel room in Bangkok! It was such an amazing trip all the way around (of course, it would have been better if he’d been there, too) that the memories of the scenery, the hospitality and the FOOD linger happily for me.

So it was a real treat and a nice remembrance of my visit to once again immerse myself in Thai cuisine, this time in the food of eastern Thailand. Himself and I joined our fellow Culinary Historians of Southern California for a visit to a private Thai garden, a Thai grocery and a Thai restaurant that treated us to a special dinner featuring the cuisine of the northeast, the area nestled in next to Laos and Cambodia.

This area, called Isaan, is one of the agriculturally poorer regions of the country, with low rainfall and insubstantial soil, so every scrap of food must be utilized. That’s why you find things on the menu that typically make Westerners blanch, things like crickets and worms. And many of the foods and ingredients are preserved in some fashion, including pickling, salting and drying, for future use. However, the people there don’t merely survive–they prevail in presenting a cuisine that is rich in flavor and diversity. This meal was a celebration of their culinary ingenuity.

At Lum-Ka-Naad in Northridge, our servers trotted out course after course, about a dozen in all. What follows is a brief sampling of what we had:

hormok

This seafood curry was cooked in a basket made from a banana leaf and topped with coconut milk, Thai chili pepper, fresh dill and Thai basil. It was rich, flavorful and loaded with lots of fat oysters.

talae rard nam prik

As assortment of seafood, including scallops and squid, was steamed and served in a sweet-hot sauce made of kaffir lime, peanuts and Thai chili peppers. It was a good contrast to the richness of the previous dish.

kanom jean sao nam

Our dessert-in-the-middle-of-dinner was a bowl of rice vermicelli and fresh pineapple topped with coconut milk, Thai chili pepper and dried shrimp. We Westerners don’t usually make our desserts with hot and salty (and fishy!) components, but it all balanced out beautifully, with no flavor overpowering any other. As for those chili peppers, you’re seeing a pattern here, right? Thais love their super-hot chili peppers like Americans love their peanut butter.

pla nam ooi

These mackerel were laid over split sugar cane and steamed, so that the fish took on a light sweetness. They were served on a bed of greens and fresh herbs, including cilantro. That’s not merely garnish. All the fresh stuff on these plates is meant to be eaten along with the rich, cooked foods to provide a nice balance of heavy and light, along with an extra measure of flavor.

pla in-see khem

This is mackerel, too, heavily salted this time. It was my favorite dish, but because it was so intensely salted, I had to be content with just one bite. But it was a wooonderful bite. I agree with Himself: It was so rich in flavor and so dense in texture that it was a little like having a bite of a particularly good stinky cheese. A tiny bit satisfies.

todd malang

If this looks like a plate of worms to you that’s because it is a plate of worms, silkworms to be precise. On the left side of the dish are fried pig intestines, which were more chewy than anything else. They needed a dredging through the Sriracha sauce to give them some flavor. But the silkworms were good all on their own, crunchy on the outside with a rich, smooth potato texture inside. While I’ve heard people make all sorts of claims as to their flavor, they seemed rather grassy to me (makes me wonder how many people have actually tried them). Silkworms are a great source of protein and fiber, which makes them a really smart food choice, especially when your choices are limited. (In case you’re wondering, no, they don’t have silk inside, so you can’t floss while you eat!)

nam med mang luck

Our beverage was a refreshing lightly sweet herbal drink loaded with basil seeds. When the seeds are moistened, they take on a gelatinous texture that reminded me of tiny boba.

Himself with kao lam

And here’s Himself with our “road food,” a length of bamboo filled with sticky rice, sweet red beans and coconut milk. He has cracked open the bamboo to reveal the treat inside. It can be grilled, but if you’re traveling, just set the bamboo on your dashboard and let it cook during your trip! That would certainly be a nice change from the usual junk food stash so many of us throw into the car when we hit the road.

p.s. For the record, Himself received a valentine from me last year, too. I drew one on a napkin, decorated it with the fresh orchids in my hotel room, took a picture with my iPhone and e-mailed it to him.

Happy Valentine’s Day, no matter what country you’re in!

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Dagwood Sandwich, Japanese Style

No one should be expected to cook for his own birthday, but our buddy John did the cooking for his, because he wanted to share with us one of his special treats from the years he spent as a child living with his grandparents in Japan. After sampling his okonomiyaki, I’m ready to move in with them myself. Or to insist he make it for me at least once a week!

Okonomi in the yaki process...

He explained that “yaki” means grilled, which I recognize from all those corner yakitori stands we have in L.A., and “okonomi” means “whatever you want.” So okonomiyaki essentially means, “cook what you like.” Sort of a Japanese version of the Dagwood sandwich, I guess.

The base is made of pancake batter (not sweet, though) with shredded cabbage stirred into it, and the top is a mass of soba noodles. In between the pancake and noodles he piled layers of shredded carrots, sautéed onions, pickled ginger and lots of thinly sliced pork and then cooked it in a large iron skillet. It came out looking like a giant sandwich, one that fed a roomful of people. Apparently, when you order this in Japan, you get an entire one all to yourself, which I can’t even imagine. That’s craazy stuff!

Nagaimo: the secret ingredient?

Into the pancake batter John stirred some shredded nagaimo, which is a Japanese mountain yam. You might be able to tell from what’s on the grater that this stuff is slimy, as much as I hate to use this word when talking about good food. Okay, technically it’s mucilaginous, although I don’t know that that sounds a whole lot better. It has no flavor that I could discern from sampling what remained on the grater. But he said the Japanese love this stuff cooked into their food–or eaten raw. Maybe it helps this monster of a fried sandwich slide down more easily. I think it did, actually.

chopsticks & cast iron

It was a kick watching John make the okonomiyaki, a crashing together of our very different culinary pasts as he cooked this Japanese dish, building and manipulating it all with chopsticks, in a cast iron skillet that was just like one I brought to Los Angeles when we moved here from Tennessee.

Switching to a spatula to flip the okonomiyaki

You’d think from the way I hovered around John as he cooked, taking pictures all the while, that I’d have managed to get a photo of the final product. But no, by the time it was finished, I’d abandoned the camera to be the first in line for a serving, my documentary impulses gone with the flick of a spatula. We each got a thick, steaming hot wedge of the okonomiyaki and topped it with bonito flakes (made of dried tuna), aonori flakes (made of dried seaweed), more pickled ginger and two sauces, a light, sweet-n-savory sauce and a Japanese-style mayo. It was heavenly, a great blending of flavors and textures. This is not the kind of thing any sensible person would eat every day of the week–to me it seemed more like party food, something to make and share while everyone stands around eating, drinking and chatting. Just like we did.

We all brought food to share as well. Phil made what we called “spamshi,” that is, sushi rolls made of spam. John was delighted by this contribution to the party. He declared it his main Japanese-American fusion comfort food, akin to musubi, layers of rice and grilled spam bound together with a strip of nori. Stephanie brought her black-eyed pea salad, which was magical in evoking the flavors of home in a spicy, entirely West Coast way. (Brava, girlfriend!) The rest of us brought an array of homemade desserts including apple pie made with wonderfully tart apples, a decadent bread pudding with blueberries and whiskey sauce and my Southern Coca-Cola cake. And to really mix things up geographically, we had an array of Belgian ales on hand to wash it all down.

It was a room filled with writers who all love travel and food. We talked writing and literature, food and our experiences on the road. My kind of crowd. I’d say this describes a successful party. I knew a handful of people when I got there. But when I left I had a whole new pack of friends, united over one amazing Dagwood sandwich, Japanese style.

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Vegan That a Meat Eater Can Appreciate

Roasted Garbanzo Beans & Garlic with Swiss Chard

Since Himself spent a good portion of last summer hanging out with a group of predominantly vegans and vegetarians, I’ve become more aware of how to feed these folks and keep them happy. Not that this farm gal is giving up meat or animal products anytime soon, but I have to admit that v/v cuisine has come a long way since I first encountered it back in the 80s.

Some of the earliest vegan dishes I tried to eat were horrendous, made by people with good intentions but who apparently knew diddly about cooking. Once at the lunch counter of a health food store I had a slice of vegan pizza laden with large  chunks of partially cooked vegetables, including lumps of carrot that were big enough and solid enough that I could have propped my car on them whilst changing the tire. The crust was like shoe leather, and the whole thing was terribly bland, with no seasoning whatsoever. It was one of the worst meals I’ve ever had. Of course, I was ravenous for the rest of the day.

Occasionally I make a foray into this aspect of the food world to see if things have gotten any better. I’m happy to report that they have. In fact, I’ve found a recipe that with a slight modification will satisfy the vegan crowd whilst satisfying the non-vegans as well.

Roast the beans, wilt the greens & then cook it all up together.

This recipe for Roasted Garbanzo Beans and Garlic with Swiss Chard first appeared in Bon Appetit. The magic of the dish is in roasting the garbanzos, which turns them from mealy to creamy. While the recipe calls for chicken broth, it’s easy enough to substitute vegetable broth. However, if you opt for the chicken broth, I’d say go ahead and top it with freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano for even more flavor and a little extra protein. And regardless of whether you go the vegetarian or vegan route, a few red pepper flakes tossed into the final mix gives it extra pizazz.

We’ve made this dish several times, and we’re both really pleased with it. It’s good to accumulate a few recipes that we can serve to our v/v friends and that we can enjoy, too. I confess I’ve been guilty in the past of thinking along the lines of, “Throw ’em a few leaves of lettuce, and the rest of us can have something good.” This is not a charitable attitude to have toward feeding one’s v/v friends. They deserve something tasty, too. I’m going to keep working to expand my file of v/v-friendly recipes, but it will contain only recipes that will appeal to non v/v’s, too.

Because everyone should have something good to eat when we all sit down together.

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All This and Umami, Too

For quite awhile I’ve wondered how to work all five components of the flavor palate–salty, sweet, sour, hot and bitter–into cuisines other than Thai, which does it to perfection. Well, six if you count umami (and you should!).

Tonight I did it completely by accident while fashioning a bit of dinner and using up the odds and ends of several other meals.

We had loads of white rice left over from my birthday dinner, so I figured I’d do some sort of stir fry, but I just wasn’t in the mood for Asian. Yeah, strange, I know. Eventually I assembled a few things to create an Italian-ish dish that was somewhere between stir fry and risotto:

>>First I cut a chicken breast into bites, sautéed them in a bit of olive oil, gave them a slosh of a dry white wine and a sprinkling of lemon juice, and cooked out most of the liquid.

>>I removed the chicken from the pan and added chopped onion, sautéed that for a bit, and then added chopped asparagus spears and let them cook a bit.

>>Then I stirred in enough pre-cooked rice for two generous servings (I’d previously stirred the rice with a bit of water and microwaved it to help it rehydrate).

>>Then I added the chicken back in, along with some ribbons of radicchio, and stirred them to incorporate the ingredients, reheat the chicken (not recook it!) and wilt the radicchio.

>>I adjusted the seasoning with salt, black pepper and more lemon juice, plus some lemon zest.

>>I divided the finished product between two plates and garnished with capers, toasted pine nuts, grated parmigiano-reggiano, chiffonade of basil and a few drops of aged balsamic.

One bite into the dish, I knew I’d stumbled upon something fantastic. Himself agreed. Thinking back over the list of ingredients, I realized the dish covered the spectrum of the flavor palate:

The saltiness came from the capers and added salt; the sweet from the aged balsamic; the sour from the lemon juice and capers; the bitter from the radicchio and the hot from the black pepper (I used a lot of black pepper, which works well with lemon chicken). And the umami from the parmigiano-reggiano, which also provided some salt.

The whole was vastly greater than the sum of its parts and made a tasty, satisfying meal. We considered making more but finally decided against it, and instead sat around making yummy sounds and finishing our wine.

It’s instructive to learn how to build flavor this way, layering the six components to create much more than they could provide on their own or in tandem with only one or two others. I can’t wait to try this again with a few tweaks and actually work out the proportions, so the dish is replicable and shareable. And I want to experiment with other dishes and see if I can reproduce the roundness of flavor that we sat down to tonight.

Thai may still be my favorite cuisine, but in figuring out how to borrow its most prominent flavor principle and adapt it to other cuisines, I know I can make good food even better. I feel a little like Prometheus stealing fire…but without any of the negative repercussions!

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Let’s Have Some Haitian Eats!

Huzzah! TiGeorge’s is finally open again, almost a full year after it was closed by fire. I haven’t gone back since its reopening yet, but I’ll be there soon. It will be good to see proprietor TiGeorge LaGuerre again and tuck into a generous plate of his yummy Caribbean fare.

Welcome back, TiGeorge! We’ve missed you!

In case you didn’t see it first time around, check out my blog entry on Haitian cuisine. I went to TiGeorge’s, of course!

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