Fruit - Thailand

My favorite fruits are usually those of the sea, but not in Asia. Here, there is plenty to be had on land, and my pleasures fluctuate between the nautical and the tropical.

We’ll start with the more mundane and move to the more unique. For starters, the mangoes in Thailand are pulpy with no detectable fiber. Yellow when ripe, the festive color and juicy sweet nectar slips smoothly down your heat-closed throat and provides yet another form of relief on a too-humid Bangkok morning.

I’ve never cared for ripe papaya, even from the vine. The texture is a bit too mushy combined with a flavor too ripe. I’ll admit that a few slices too many will make me gag. Yet there is little better than a fresh papaya salad with finely grated slices of elegant green. Unlike any other fruit, papaya is better before it’s ripe.

Lychee is juicy and easy to peel, making it a warm, sweet refresher on a humid Bangkok afternoon. The pulp leaks juice at the slightest touch, and it’s ideal for smoothies, shakes, and health-conscious munching.

Longan, an almost-cousin to lychee, is one of the fruit I care less for. It manages to be simultaneously too sweet and inadequately. The pulp is chewier and firmer and grows a thin layer around a rock-hard pit. Longan is dense with so much concentrated sugar it stings. I would never turn it down, but I’d pick lychee first every time.

There is lychee and there is longan. Rambutan is their love child, boasting the sweetness of lychee but a firmer, less juicy fruit closer to longan in texture. It looks deadly with pink sea urchin-esque, don’t-mess-with-me shell, but the intimidatingly beautiful red spikes guard a firm, sweet, clear flesh with a rock-hard core.

Dragonfruit is a simple yet thirst-quenching, hunger-sopping, semi-solid white flesh sequined by tiny black dots. The astonishing psychedelic acid-trip pink prongs fan out like scales or wings, the intimidating color a brazen testament to how the fruit acquired such a fierce name. The fruit itself is surprisingly subtle and light in flavor, a softer-than-kiwi center, juicy, with a hint of sweetness, peppered with seeds that crunch like sesame. Dragonfruit looks like the reverse of a starry sky and is one of few things that tastes as good as it looks.

The thick, hard purple shell of Mangosteen makes it resemble a small fortress, but snap off the top leaves and your nails easily break through the soft rind underneath. The fruit is a juicy, soft white pulp that comes off in cloves like an orange and resembles pretty, delicate skinless garlic. Don’t let the arduous task of peeling off that thick outer layer deter you. Once inside, you’ll have an epiphany and see that you’re eating the best fruit on earth. It’s a pity this stuff only grows in South Asia. I’d eat it every day if I could.

Mangosteen may be the greatest fruit on earth, but Durian is the worst. It is, IMO, the most disgusting food on earth. With the smell of ripe sewage that lings in your nostrils for days, durian launches an assault on your olfactory system and challenges any preconceived definition of the word “edible”. I am repeatedly told by fans that durian is simply an acquired taste, but I have yet to learn what atrocities one must endure in order to acquire such a taste.

I never thought I’d be able to describe anything I put into my mouth as PUTRID, but that is what durian is. It fulfills the (hopefully) undefinable taste that can only be attributed to rotting flesh. One bit and your skin will crawl and you will never forget the sensation. I tried it once years ago and I will never try it again.

In what I believe to be a pretty thorough spread on fruit, these photos alone should be enough to set you salivating. Until next time, enjoy the fruits of my labor, and may your trees always bear fruit…GROAN.

Bird’s Nest Soup – Thailand

There is no better feeling than mentally checking off a box on the foodie bucket list. This was one of them. Made from the saliva of the cave swift, these little webbed wonders melt into amorphous, slightly gelatinous nibs that bear a smaller, more delicate resemblance to the texture of the white wood-ear soup you get for dessert at the more authentic Chinese restaurants. I can’t say this soup has any real flavor or taste. The bird’s nest soup is as amorphous as it looks, but becomes reminiscent of a sweet soothing drink for teething infants as a spoonful of honey helps the bird’s nest go down.

Apparently these nests are insanely expensive and are believed to be very nutritious. They can even cure a variety of illnesses, much like Chuck Norris’s tears. Regardless, I see why this ambiguously flavored dish is a must-try. It’s the only way a chef can acceptably spit in your food!

Krua Apsorn – Bangkok

I never expected to be able to write an actual restaurant review in Thailand, but here we go!

The simple starter to the greatness that is to come was itself the very picture of simple grace. Elegant, long lines of green papaya ground in a light, spicy-sour juice, the Papaya Salad goes even farther than an ice cold beer in the sweltering heat.

Leave it to Yash to order a fantastic fried rice the day after I post a less-than-stellar spread on rice. And of course it’s a stellar Basil Fried Rice. It’s like I always get on the right train, at the wrong station…in the wrong country…but rest assured, unlike myself, Krua Apsorn can do no wrong.

I plan to do a spread on just noodles so I won’t go into much detail about the Pad Thai here. Let’s just say it’s how Pad Thai should be. Chewy, almost-gelatinous noodles, clear as day, with just the right mix of sweet and soy.

The Crab Omelet was described as resembling tortilla espanola and a must-try by Lonely Planet. This is the first time in my life I’ve ever disagreed with Lonely Planet. Considering I travel with Lonely Planet like a missionary with his Book of Mormon, it is earthshattering that I should find any points to dispute. Anyway, all sarcasm aside, the crab omelet is certainly tasty with bits of crab intermixed with fluffy egg, however this egg is not the dense, compact stuff of tortilla espanola. Though savory, this dish begs neutrality and tries to please all parties. With none of the seafood-sting of the other dishes, the omelet is a virgin daiquiri. I enjoyed it, but there is a far superior option for crab lovers.

The Fried Crab with Yellow Chili is the daiquiri blended in a Jamba Juice blender with the world’s best rum. And no, that’s not Bacardi. Just no. if that was your first thought, you and I are no longer on speaking terms. Forget rum, this dish is the ambrosia and nectar of the Thai gods. Chunks of lump crabmeat with the searing pain of Thai chilis, this dish is one of few good things that burn – it shares that honor with a roaring campfire and marshmallows on sticks, an afternoon sun on a pristine Koh Tao beach, and Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire.

My first visit to Krua Apsorn commenced with the Fish Ball Green Curry as they were out of the claim-to-fame yellow curry. I’ve never cared for the vulcanized texture of fish balls, but the green curry is a rich green, deep as the Emerald Buddha. There’s one veggie I don’t recognize, but it’s green with a texture and flavor resembling zucchini/squash crossed with the crunch of carrots. Every bite is better than the last.

The Yellow Curry comes with a pedigree of famous food critics, and the two lobster-like shrimp flavoring it are the gold standard by which all curries should be measured. I’ve had curry with shrimp before, but never one so permeated by the shrimp and so brilliantly enhanced by the sour crispiness of tiny lotus shoots. I never thought that a few puny shrimps could be so mighty, but that just goes to show that all you smug tall people who underestimated the shrimps stand corrected. (Groan!)

At Krua Apsorn, your order of white rice is molded into the shape a double heart, and if I were ranking in hearts instead of stars, Krua Apsorn would get all five of mine. Sadly, I only have one heart, and I left a piece of it here. In the Legend of Zelda, the more pieces of heart Link collects, the more blows he can take before succumbing to his injuries. So go to Thailand one day, whenever you have a whim, and find that piece of my heart at Krua Apsorn. That kind of food and that kind of experience just might cushion the blow of whatever life hits you with next.

Rice

What better way to start an Asiatrip food blog than the one dish everyone knows us by? Then again, the truth is, I’ve always been ambiguous about rice, especially the fried variety. It’s amazing when made well, but it’s so forgiving. A little greasier is fine, a little dry makes an excellent texture. The hearty little grains expand in water to fill your empty belly to the brim. Fried to a crisp or served plain and steamed, and captivating company to any curry, rice covers any imaginable range of flavors and lends itself to any imaginable use.

Fried rice is evasively elusive and utterly puzzling in its indefinability. The androgynous of Asia, and I don’t mean the lady-boys, every country makes its own version. The Thais add basil and sometimes fruit, the Indonesians add brown sugar, the Chinese add whatever they can find, and the Americans add peas and drown it in a murky river of soy sauce.

I must warn you in advance, my spread of rice is less than impressive, but it is only day 3 of a month-long excursion, and I’m only getting warmed up. I’m bound to update different sections as I go, and rather than bore you with tales of various rices that you can easily type into Wikipedia, I will focus my energy on the more interesting foods I indulge in as I go. The fruit is far more interesting, the noodle dishes are endless, and the seafood in China will be a brave new world. So stay tuned with patience, grasshopper (which I have no intention of eating), my food adventure will unravel if you stay tuned.

Here in Thailand, my first meal was, (surprise!), fried rice. Two completely different kinds, two tastes, both a tasty tidbit to mark the start of my time in Thailand, both much better than you’d dare to expect from a restaurant called Tasty Beer located on Khao San Road, the heart of the backpacker central.

What’s not to love about the over-the-top Pineapple Fried Rice served inside a hollow pineapple? Sweet with a hint of savory soy and brown sugar, this is a delightful standard dish, and the fresh pineapple adds that extra touch of refreshment in this sweltering heat.

Here we have the Green Curry Fried Rice, clearly something new - I’ve yet to see this one in the US. This glowing gem is a bite that bites back with a burn of deep curry-green.

One rice that is like not like the others is sticky rice. These long latex grains stick to each other but never to you. The rice is hard yet moldable and rolls neatly into a flattened ball at your fingertips. Hard but chewy, with inter-riced divots to soak up soups and sauces, sticky rice is the ultimate alternative to crackers or pita bread. So next time you make a hummus, dip some sticky rice – you won’t regret the prep time, I promise.

Another amazing use for sticky rice is the simple Thai dessert of Mango with Sticky Rice. The thick coconut cream travels upstream in the clump of rice, and considering my salmon obsession, who can object to anything that swims upstream? This deep purple rice is absolute heaven when mixed with a yellow vine-ripened mango.

Rice is vague, and the name tells you nothing except that it is first steamed. Rice’s love-hate relationship with me stems from how it defines me. Rice is one of many traits that makes me a terrible Asian. Because somehow, I never learned to make it except to turn on a rice cooker. But I enjoy being undefinable, I revel in not fitting into a neat little box. My inability to make non-homicidal rice is one just part of my defiance of Asian stereotypes that taught me not to judge people by a term, by a name, or by any one feature I consider defining. So next time you order this nondescript dish, look into it. B. cereus, (and pray that oil or heat killed everything cereus), probe the dish and really taste it. Think about what substance it really holds. How spicy? How much soy sauce? Which veggies? Plain or fried? Maybe when you finally piece together what you’re looking for, you may find your perfect rice and maybe even find yourself. 

International Eats

One month out of the US, ten days in Thailand, the rest of the time in the Motherland of China. One fantastic, much-needed vacation, a once-in-a-lifetime culinary adventure. One month of restaurants whose names I can’t pronounce, never mind spell or write. Ten days with Yash’s high-tech camera that I don’t know how to use but with a lens so powerful you can see the sharp outlines of the whiskers on a mouse’s face. Hopefully, there will be no mouse whiskers to photograph in any restaurants we go to as I’ve never seen mouse whiskers without the rest of the mouse, and that would be a horror unsuited for any culinary journey on which I will embark. The problem is, all this culminates, all these numbers – one month, ten days, dozens of restaurants, all these add up to one thing: one neglected food blog. The one and only creation by Foodie Houser, MD that would suffer at least a month with no doctoring. And we all know everyone deserves access to care. Even acerbic, arrogant, often belligerent, and sometimes downright tear-sucking bashes that I call food critic license deserves a loophole to get at least a few follow-ups…

I pondered this, and somewhere during a numbing nine-hour exam, followed by a four-hour bus ride turned six, not counting the two-hour delay, an epic journey of NYC/NJ transit on a sleepless night, complete with 45-minute transfers that landed us, finally, in a shore mecca of liberation at Newark Liberty Airport, the idea came to me. My mind was fuzzy, more like dead as a doornail, but between the 4-hour napping coma status post the worst 24-hour call I’ve ever pulled, all these numbers also added up to a single idea. You may find my arithmetic here to be poetically pleasing, however, I would abstain from entrusting me with your money-managing based on this kind of math.

My one idea stems from realizing just how much food I will try and just how little you will see if I don’t document it. Food is, after all, the reason we live. It is the reason we work, the reason we sweat. It is how we express our differences and defines our identities when we are all the same. The foods I will document on my first of many gastronomic global domination tours will be foods you don’t see, foods you can’t see, and maybe some foods you don’t want to see. But there will be food this month, and my creative juices will not run drier than the Silk Road sand. And one day, I will eat that too. So on that day and on these days too, you will taste the earth with me, one bite-sized city at a time.

Excuses for Scoozi – Boston

Isn’t Scoozi Italian for “excuse me”? It should be. It sounds close enough, and this Newberry Street establishment is the consistent definition of the phrase. Everything here begged for an excuse for why it wasn’t better. So excuse me, I beg your pardon for my upcoming unrelenting rant. And excuse me for the descriptive expletives.

Excuse me is a commonly uttered phrase. If you’re clumsy/a totally hopeless klutz like me, you’re constantly apologizing for bumping into someone or getting in their way. This part of me tastes like the Cheese Tortellini with Pesto. A clumsy package at best, made with a bag of pasta and a jar of Trader Joe’s Pesto, I could have brewed this at home with a lot less salt. I swear, if I keep eating Italian that tastes like it’s been dipped in the Mediterranean I may rupture a berry aneurysm before I’m 30.

Excuse me is also the phrase of a pick-up artist who approaches a lonely girl at a bar. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Ladies, don’t fall for the initial good-looking seduction of the Truffle Mac & Cheese. A huge plate (because size really does matter in a bar), this gooey greatness has an artificially-flavored hint of truffle and is even more plentiful than your entrée. Tempting, but look past the superficial and realize that there are no quality ingredients under the Newberry Street Armani suit. And don’t forget, appetizers are a preview so hold out for a main dish. Ladies, the right answer to this guy’s questions is “No, and this seat won’t be taken either if you sit down.”

The only thing that didn’t need any excuses was the Garlic Bread with Bruschetta. It is an inexcusably sad day when the only thing that fits the mold of mediocrity is a side dish. Crude, callous loaves of toasted bread topped with fresh, finely chopped tomato with a touch of basil and oil, this was the only thing that didn’t taste like I dug it out of the depths of my freezer.

Remember the mustard commercial where a snooty, pretentious child pulled up in a limo and sniffed, “Pardon me, do you have some Grey Poupon?” Pardon me is a more sophisticated version of excuse me, the same way Grey Poupon is a more sophisticated version of bad mustard, and the Lobster Ravioli with Rose Cream Sauce is a more sophisticated version of freezer pasta drenched in nastiness. The lobster filling was watery, but aggressively mediocre (my fave phrase coined by my classmate Nikil), but it was the rose sauce with the gross aftertaste of bad wine that got me. Pardon me, do you have some of anything better than this?

When you belch, you always exclaim, “Excuse me!”, which you are certain to do at the end of a Scoozi meal. The mountainous platters are sure to leave you stuffed, and there is no one who wouldn’t belch after each dish. Unfortunately, there is no excuse that covers poor quality, and no excuses would ever motivate me to return to Scoozi.

Tasty Terenga UPDATE – Boston

When I was a kid, I felt bad for poor little Bo Peep who lost her sheep. If I had suspected that her entire flock had been reduced to tasty platters of Terenga technique, perhaps I would have found that nursery rhyme even more uplifting. Though it was a bit cruel to give that poor shepherdess false hope about her sheep coming back. Then again, what kind of incompetent shepherdess manages to lose an entire flock of sheep?!

Moving along to ladies who took better care of their pets, forget Mary’s fleece-white-as-snow Bouye, the Bissap is where it’s at! This sweet purple juice concoction is sweet as sugar but finds a familiar tang of fruit. It’s my new favorite rarely-attainable juice (sorry, Orangina, you’ve been usurped), and I’m not just saying that because purple is my favorite color. Though it helps…a little…

I still recommend the Accara for the white-sand-beach texture, but that might be because I just miss warm beaches after a frigid Boston winter. White-mud-snow doesn’t quite cover the craving…then again, if what you’re missing is the fruits of the ocean, the soft Croquettes de Poisson with garlic and cilantro are a means to an entrée. Try at your own risk – this is NOT for those who abhor the aquatic.

Nothing quite tops the couscous with Cushings in the Thiebou Yap, IMO, but the marvelous Michoui tastes as pretty as its name. Tender lamb that falls free from the shank before it even hits the table with the full flavor of lamb accompanied by non-Cushingoid couscous is a clear winner.

Sorry Little Bo Peep, but at least one of your sheep won’t be coming back wagging his tail behind him. His chop was tasty though a bit dry, but the soft sweet potato fries topping it made it that so much more okay. Not nearly as exciting as the Michoui, but the Dibi holds its own – who doesn’t crave a well-made shoulder chop from time to time?

Clearly Terenga knew how to handle its sheep better than Little Bo Peep as there was nothing lost about that deep gamey flavor of the lamb. That meat just fell off the bone, and it went down so easily with a sweet swig of Bissap. I may live across the street from Toro, but sometimes I’ll walk right by it for Terenga!