First, I want to thank Bangkok for the gracious parting gift and I also want to acknowledge the Lonely Planet Thailand guide which started me out on the Chinatown Eats tour. I did not follow it exactly, not even close, but the idea certainly started there.
What do you do when its your last night in Bangkok and you have to be on a plane to Korea at 2:20 AM the next morning? If you have any sense, you forget about sleep (you can sleep when you're dead, right?) and you head to Bangkok's Chinatown for dinner, a movable feast if ever there was one. So it was to be.
Chinatown just starts waking up at about seven PM. The retail shops have rolled down there doors and the sidewalk and street stalls have taken over any available space. The neon is starting to glow and the hungry are heading for their favorite haunts. I had a destination to find, a starting point for my dinner. The location was Burapa Bird's Nest Soup. Remember, finding anything in Chinatown is an accomplishment, even with a map, a name and an exact address. Being a returning Chinatown veteran, I was able to navigate directly to the tiny, brightly lit restaurant and bulk bird's nest shop on the first try. Huzzah! as The Kid would say.
Before entrance is allowed, the guy in the picture has to show you that the small bowl of soup is 200 Baht. That's about $ 6.66, a damn expensive bowl of soup in Bangkok. After assurances that I was good for the cost and still wanted a bowl, I was allowed inside.
I was served a bowl of pale soup with the even paler bird's nest material floating in the broth. The main ingredient is the dissolved nest of cave swifts which make their home in seaside cliffs. The nests are composed mostly of their saliva and small bits of other stuff. The nest is one of the most expensive animal products used in human food.
The soup is served with a crazy little platter on which is ensconced some honey, some lychee fruit and a soft boiled egg. I was given the beginners course in proper soup technique which involves taking all of the ingredients and mixing them in the bowl while the other Chinese patrons watch. Then you eat the soup and find out its pretty damn good, although very subtle. I had out my journal and was making notes as I ate, probably looking for all the world like some crazed Western food writer.
When I finished my soup, the folks at the other table were buying some of the very expensive nests to take home to China. One of the gentlemen spoke English, after a fashion and asked me if I liked the soup. The conversation is best quoted:
"You like this food?"
"Yes, yes I do.."
"But you are Western peoples..."
"Yes, I am a Western person, but I don't like American food"
"Do you eat hamburgers?"
"No, (add universal Bleah-face).."
"Do you like Chinese food?"
"Oh yes, very much"
Notice the great cultural opportunity? The folks were from Shanghai and we had some more discussion about food and Seattle and China and then parted with a feeling that we had advanced Sino-American relations.
The next stop, and course, on the walking dinner was Khrua Phurnia Mai, conveniently enough located directly across the street from Burapa. And let me tell you friends and neighbors, the joint was jumping. Once again my Buddhist amulet was bringing my good luck as my host, the Thai lad in the striped shirt, above, saw the amulet, looked at me, nodded his approval and wedged me into a single plastic seat at a table packed with Thais. I ordered Pad Kee Mao with seafood, one of my favorite dishes in the world and a specialty of this particular street stand. I did not know that my perception of what Pad Kee Mao could be would soon be shattered forever.
Pad Kee Mao, often called Drunken Noodles, is a Thai dish of Chinese origin. It consists of wide noodles stir fried in a chili, soy and fish sauce based sauce with a variety of possible meats and usually with green beans, garlic and bean sprouts. As I sat, looking and smelling other people's dinners sliding by on the hands and arms of the waiters, I was drop kicked through the goal posts of culinary heaven. Despite the Tuk-tuks motoring by just feet away, the screaming neon, the street noise and the immensity of other sensory input that is Chinatown, I was riveted by the dishes. Oh please, oh please, let one of those sizzling cast iron platters nestled in a greasy wooden carrying plate be mine.
When my turn came, a smoking platter that radiated heat into the already sweltering night was laid in front of me. On the cast iron smoked a couple of large leaves of edible greens to keep the Kee Mao from forever binding itself to the hot iron. On top of the greens were the wonderful noodles which were topped with all manner of seafood including bits of fish, prawns, some shellfish and other wonders. This is one of the best meals of my life! The chili and spices are perfect, the fire of the dish a thing to be reckoned with but still complimenting the rest of the ingredients, the vegetables still crisp but hot through and the noodles sublime. Truly an amazing gastronomical experience for which I would pay a great deal if I could even get close to this in America. The actual price, with a tip, was 60 Baht including a drink. Thats $ 2 US.
Whew! The next course required a walk of a few blocks which brought me to the tiny hole in the wall of Mai Mong Hoi Thod and a table out front. I sat at the empty table in the photo above.
This joint features Hoy Tort, which is a sort of rice pancake crossed with an egg omelet topped with plump little oysters. I sat down and waited for a chance to order while eyeing the plates of my fellow diners. Oh yeah, this is not like anything I have ever had. When the young waitress comes out (standing, above, in the red apron) I greeted her in Thai and she took one look at me, started laughing and ran back inside. I guess not a lot of fa-rang make it to this spot. In a minute she came back out and tried again but when I said I wanted Hoy Tort, she shrieked and fled, laughing, back inside. My fellow diners thought this was pretty amusing and so did I, keeping my sense of humour. In a minute the owner came out, was very kind and a little apologetic, and took my order for one Hoy Tort. He also assured me that I was pronouncing it correctly. I guess I just had a strong effect on the young woman (ha!).
My dish came and it was a wonderful little omelet looking thing with about a dozen nice little plump oysters on top and nestled in the pancake-like omelet. The dish is served with a great sweet chili sauce and green onions as a topper. This was a fine finishing course, flavourful and filling, not to mention the entertaining wait staff.
I strolled through the night, too full to eat anymore and wishing that I could have just a bite of this or a bite of that. Chinatown was in full swing now, with people and traffic everywhere, sidewalks full of stalls, forcing pedestrians into the streets.
All I could manage was a chilled serving of pomegranate juice from my hipster Thai friends and then a stroll back towards the guest house. I could not make any room for durian fruit, but the opportunity was there. But be warned, if you take this smelliest of all fruits back to your guesthouse or hotel, you will suffer the wrath of innkeeper.
Bangkok had rewarded me with an evening and a dinner I will never forget. As I passed out of Chinatown, it was with gratitude for an amazing evening, and amazing trip, and a heavy heart knowing that in a few short hours, before the sun rose, I would be flying away from this land that I have already come to love.
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