Food Travels in Thailand
You travel far but the journey happens between your ears.
There are varieties of journeys, culinary journey is just one of them.
In parts of the world where you don't belong, your familiar is not familiar, your familiar is not of consequence, your familiar is not a norm, your familiar is not a glue, not a rope that binds like it binds you back home, your familiar is not something to suffer, your familiar is not a rule, not a law, not a sentence, like it is when you are home.
'Exotic' is just another way of saying 'unfamiliar'.
In the streets, vapors from steaming pots in restaurants, holes in the walls, stoves on the sidewalk accost you. Food is all around, everywhere. Boiled or fried something dumped in a soupy noodles with fermented and herbal garnishes. Sweet thickness with flakes of heat smeared on crispy textures. Divine, chilled Pandan Water, Grilled ripe bananas, deep fried critters, odious fermented fish sauces, passionate fruits, fruits that confuse you with passion and putrid smells, bold chunks of meats...it is an assault on the familiar.
Photos and stories are inadequate to document your inner journey as you walk through these streets. But I will try and make it less inadequate here.
Hover or click on the photos - if image alone is not complete, you will find a few words to go with it. Click again to let go.
There are countless restaurants, street food stalls that serve excellent food. You'll need forever to explore everything. Here are a few noteworthy places for me personally - I remember these places vividly. The most notable are Raan Jay Fai, Bangkok and Nong Beer Restaurant, Pai. Click to jump straight ahead.
The other two are:
Jek Meng Hainanese Restaurant, Bangkok - locals throng this place and few tourists do - which means it is the place to go. I walked into Jek Meng when I wanted to eat at Jeh O Chula but found that place opens in the evening only - serendipity?
Huan Kung Kum, is a charming restaurant in the back alleys near the moat in Chiang Mai. Run by an elderly couple, they make some dishes very well, it has a soothing, village like ambiance.
Raan Jay Fai
A Soup at the End of the Tunnel
The easiest part of eating at Raan Jay Fai is getting there and of course, getting out. Like any pilgrimage you have no choice about the right of passage, you got to endure it, it is waiting here. The toughest part of the wait, any wait is convincing yourself that it is finite and that the material reward (spicy something, or whatever) at the end of the wait is going to be worth it, being a Pavlovian dog and holding off not pressing the eject lever.
I am not the usual patient, waiting type but here at Raan Jay Fai's restaurant, I waited for around 6 hours, sitting on grimy sidewalks, drinking, munching on overpriced crab flavored potato chips (yeah, they taste as disgusting as they sound and Ley's sells this shit in Thailand), chatting up people from Ukraine, the US, Malaysia, Thailand. What is it that made me put in such a Sisyphian effort? It takes a lot of convincing your inner child not to forget an unreasonably long time already spent waiting?
Some people leave, hoping to return just in time and still manage to retain their turn (most fail because you never know when it is going to be and it is not consistent through the day) and some never return (good for them, they hadn't missed much or did they?). A Ukrainian woman told me that she decided to get a massage rather than wait here but missed her turn, yet decided to wait again.
People keep walking in asking for a seat and if you were already waiting for 5 hours, you resent that. But wait till the maître d' (Raan Jay's daughter) shoos them away brusquely. But then, a school of rich and influential Thai people actually walked in had a table for 10 reserved for them, they even managed to get take out too!. For the rest of us, riff raff, no reservations or take outs.
I kept chatting up people to kill time. Raan Jay's sister is one of them. She made sure I noticed that she looks 'exactly like Raan Jay', running her finger around her jaw line. "I am 10 years younger too!" she said. Was she prodding me to take her pictures too or was it just me? I picked up my camera anyway. After a few shutter clicks, her niece (Raan Jay's daughter) said something and the old lady promptly got up and disappeared.
Speaking of Raan Jay's daughter, she can speak English and puts on cold demeanor till you get your turn to order when she becomes friendly. Perhaps she doesn't trust most people to survive wait times this long. She'd rather not invest her energy being polite with every Tom and Debbie.
You get to order when you are about to get a table. Then after 30 mins or so you do get your table and then wait at your table for your order to be prepared and served, (by Raan Jai herself, no exceptions) which could be another 30 to 45 mins or more. You are free to have a beer or two and watch others eat.
The tom yum soup at the end of the wait was EXTRAORDINARY! I ordered it just because at 600 baht that's the most inexpensive thing on the menu. I never had a tom yum soup before, and despite my high-tolerance-for-spice Indian palate, it woke up my senses.
Bold pieces of galangal, that bite you back, lemon grass stalks that hit the reward centres in your brain, pompous, stout shrimps done just right in hot and sour stock...blew me away. If my first ever taste of tom yum is this good, I might not like any other tom yum soup ever!
At an exorbitant 1,600 baht (USD 46) the omelet has a lot of crab but not enough taste or flavor...it is too bland for me, the exterior though crispy is overdone. An overdone egg doesn't smell good - not for me. I couldn't finish it on my own. I saw that people were sharing this pricey omelet among 3 or 4.
That's all I had stomach for, I paid and left, tired, full, feeling like I'd been through a wringer.
In retrospect, leaving the money part aside, it is the struggle that hurts, the pain you have to endure to get to eat there. 'Was it worth it?' is not the right question. 'is that much pain necessary'? is, 'Shouldn't they make it less painful?' is.
Raan Jay came from humble beginning, was very poor and built her reputation over many years of relentless hard work - at 80 she is so very diligent that she cooks all meals herself, no exceptions. There are no sous chefs there. Cooking on the sidewalks, she was forced by the city administration to rent a property for her restaurant and move inside. She did, yet, her restaurant uses as much space outside as the space available inside and yet it is not affordable for 99% of the people of the city, that's not fair for the locals. (It is not uncommon in South and South East Asia, I get it)
There are garbage bins right where the food is being prepared. She cooks out in the open and the whole scene of soot, dust, grime is unpleasant. You can't have all that and still have sky high prices. That's having your cake and eating it too - not sustainable, that dichotomy will bite you as soon as karma catches up.
A small poster asks people not to take photos. Why not? That soot filled poster didn't deter bystanders, it didn't deter me. If you don't like to be photographed on the streets, get inside. I would say "get a bigger, better place. Get a fucking AC. Return a fraction of respect your customers have for you - it's not about money or business, it is about YOU! who you truly are, how you treat other people, would you take your customers for granted just because you can? Would you treat them like this because you can? Because your customers admire you?".
People deserve better than what her rude, arrogant, disrespectful daughter does to them.
I think she's running her restaurant because she's got to cook, period. She's the heroine here and the story ends with her, the restaurant will end with her.
Thipsamai is right next door, very good, already quite popular, recognized - I regret not eating there, yet. There must be many more great chefs elsewhere in Thailand, like the one in the next story.
Ninja of Khao Soi
A Raan Jay Fai in Making
Nong Beer Restaurant
I parked my rental bike and got in. A man, a woman and an older woman were sitting behind two counters, all engrossed in their smartphones.
“Is the restaurant open?”
The man, startled, issued a mild apology, “yes, please take a seat”.
I had the whole restaurant for myself. The sat at a table with a view of the street - actually it was on the sidewalk. Two tables away some youngsters were into their smartphones, they seemed to be working at the restaurant. Not one of them was disturbed as the chair I pulled screeched. The menu on the table was extensive - I wanted something familiar and simple.
The older lady came - she looked like a retired hippie, I liked that about her. It was a ‘fuck you’ to younger people who think she’s old. I asked for Khao Soi. She made a note and looked up as if asking ‘that’s all?’, I said that’s it. ‘No beer?’, she insisted- she didn't want to come back for a follow on order, it was late already, by Thailand standards. I shook my head.
A young girl was busy behind the counter, cooking. I wondered what was in store for me?
After a few mins the old lady returned with a bowl filled with coconut gravy and fried noodles in it. I dug in. The drumstick was buttery, fresh, pink. The gravy was delightfully thick and creamy - no other Khao Soi was this thick, not this creamy, has this much flavor, has this peculiar goodness.
I paid and made an effort to tell them that that was wonderful. The man thanked me, 'Khapun Kharb'!
The girl in the picture is the ninja chef of this restaurant. She must be in early twenties and if she keeps at it, in 10, 15, 20 years she will have Michelin Stars on her shoulder.
