Thai Kitchen

The Little Man's grandmother has just moved in to a new Thai shop house. A shop house is a very simple and highly functional building. It looks a bit like a concrete garage, complete with roll down metal door. It's about as comfortable as a concrete garage, but it serves as business and home. In the case of Little's Gran, it's actually two businesses and a home. She sells the most excellent Thai food on the sidewalk, and her husband does Thai massage on the second floor. It's simple. Efficient. And, they are quite happy.

Though there's not a comfortable chair in the place, no chair, in fact, and the motorbike is likely as not parked right in the middle of the living room (it often serves as a chair), I love to visit. Because, Little's Gran can really cook.


Her kitchen is nothing to look at, but from this tangle of rubber hoses and jumble of plastic bags, she feeds her family and her neighbors some of the loveliest dishes you could ever hope to eat.


(And, she's shared with me a few of her best recipes. More on that very soon.)

Thai Herbal Steam Sauna

Though I do go on about the food (a girl has to eat), I first came to the Kingdom to study Traditional Thai Medicine. As the Buddha's devoted followers made their way here more than 2500 years ago, they brought with them the Buddha's teachings, the Pali language, and their traditional healing practices. From these origins, Thai medicine took root. It is comprised of three branches; massage, herbal medicine, and spirit healing (a dense and fascinating topic... for another day).

I practice Thai massage, which is now to me not so exotic, but each time I return to Thailand I luxuriate in Thai herbal therapies. Knowledgable use of Thai herbs is deeply engrained in the Thai diet, in the preparation of traditional body products, and in the practice of massage and medicine.

When I was pregnant here it was common for women and men to stop my then-husband on the street and offer dietary advice for me and my big belly. And, when I was just home from the hospital, my dear friend Jomsi came on her motorbike for three days in a row with some of the weirdest dishes I'd ever eaten, all to support lactation. I ate fishy banana blossom curries quite happily, while my sister-in-law prepared warm buckets of herbal tea for me to pour over myself in the shower. And, I drank a cleansing hot tea that had me sweating from the pores on the back of my hands. It went on for three weeks, and I hated to see it all come to an end. I've never been so taken care of in my life.


One of the most accessible and loveliest experiences of Thai herbs can be had for the equivalent of about $4.00 U.S. It's an herbal steam sauna.


Because it is Thai, it is generally not posh (though you can find that if you need to spend top dollar). And, given the lack of building codes and safety standards, if you want a sauna, you just go ahead and build it. This is the one I've been frequenting. Its simple, but it's hot and deeply fragrant.

Thai people do not sauna like Europeans. You will never find a cold plunge here. Thai people are allergic to cold. Even my very Western pharmacist advised me recently against any cold liquids while fighting off a head cold. While the American in me would rather roll my eyes, I always submit to advice about food and temperature here. It got me through a pregnancy and natural birth with ease.


A Thai sauna begins with a shower (again, not posh), then you wrap yourself up in a bathing sarong (heavens, you thought you'd be naked! no way). Off in your rubber flip-flops to your little, private sauna room.


After a few minutes when your pores have opened, you gently massage the herbal scrub into your skin. The exfoliation supports absorption of the herbal essence in the steam. After fifteen minutes of herb infused steam and a good sweat, you go for a warm rinse and a glass of hot tea. When you have cooled a bit, in you go for your second round. Thai people refrain from showering off the lovely herbal scent which penetrates your skin and hair. Again, no cold drinks and no bathing for two hours to allow the herbs to do their work.

If you ask me, one Thai massage, one Thai foot reflexology, and one herbal steam sauna every couple of weeks, and we'd all live to be 110.

More Stuff on a Stick

One of my most favorite meals in Northern Thailand is one we can easily replicate at home. Grilled sausages, slices of fresh ginger, fresh hot chilis, raw cabbage and slices of cold cucumber. Of course, eating it here means jabbing it all with a bamboo stick from a little plastic bag, as it is one of the loveliest street foods.

Northern Thai sausages are a blend of pork, spices and sticky rice. They are a bit more chewy and less meaty than a New York sausage, but that recommends them.

And, the chilis range from hot to downright incendiary. If you get "mouse dropping" chilis, watch out. These are tiny and hotter than hot. I had them a week ago, and given my long absense from Thailand, chomped them down without hesitation. Coughing fit. Tears. Smiles. It was great.

If you come to the house this summer for a barbecue, expect sticks and sausages... but, I'll give you a plate. I promise. (No worries. I've never seen "mouse dropping" chilis in the U.S.).

Pick Up Sticks

In Thai Buddhist temples, you will find many small opportunities to make merit, to improve your luck, and to learn about your future. Astrologers practice Thai astrology on the temple steps and palmistry. I've even known monks to take a look at your palm. And, there's this little game. Pick up the bamboo vase and give it a shake (a bunch of shakes, really) until one little spear of bamboo asserts itself.


Read the number on your stick and choose your fortune from the numbered drawers.


Usually addressing issues of money, love, and money. Pretty much in that order.

Signage Carnage

Now here's a guest house sure to prosper in the current depressed tourism market.

Brilliant, really. Stay home. It's cheaper than even your $5-a-night guest house.

Keep a Cool Heart

Thai people find us confusing. (It's mutual.) On my first long trip to Thailand, I spent a number of evenings chatting in English with a small group of Buddhist monks at Wat Phra Singh, one of Chiang Mai's most important temples. After many hours of polite inquiries on both sides about daily life, one of the monks finally shared with me why they found me so interesting. He said, "We love to watching you talk." Watch me talk, hmmm.... He added, "You move your face a lot. We think it funny." Indeed.

After a few more visits to Thailand and a few years living here, I now understand fully what he was getting at. Thai people do not emote. Not entirely true. They emote in a limited range. Happy is good. Anything else, pretty much bad. So, in Thai language there seems to be no word for "sad." Just "not happy."

Having been married for five years to a Thai man and lived with some of his family for long stretches, I can tell you the gap in emotional expression is Grand Canyon-esque. So, when you are frustrated, it translates, "not happy." Disappointed, "not happy." In mourning, "not happy." A little blue, "not happy." I beat the dead horse.


The positive side of this emotional state is that traveling in Thailand is unlike any other place you are likely to go. You meet smiles everywhere you go (note the Little Man's smiling grandparents above). No one will try to fleece you (except the occasional Bangkok taxi driver, but hell, that's Bangkok). Haggling at the market is all done in good humor. And, complete strangers will want to talk with you at length about where you are going and what you are doing. (Oh, yes... the notion of privacy is also a foreign one here.)

Be advised. Don't lose your cool. There are tons of expressions in Thai language for keeping cool. "Jai yen" (cold heart - actually a good thing). "Ar lom dee" (relax). "Mai kitmak" (don't stress). And, the ubiquitous "mai pen rai" (no big deal, or you're welcome, or no problem, or nevermind).

I once witnessed a Western guy dressing down a bank teller for some ridiculous banking error, and the entire staff just turned to placid, indifferent statues. I left. It was turning my stomach, actually. He likely went on and on. They likely waited him out.

What a country! You couldn't pick a fight here, if you wanted to. And, why would you want to? "Mai pen rai!"

Barbecue Bucket

What Thai people love, more than anything, is being outdoors. Well, maybe not more than eating. Eating outdoors, now that's a grand slam.

So, when my Thai family gathered for New Year, there was barbecue. Shrimp as big as your index finger, pork ribs, and what you'd probably call "pig skin with subcutaneous fat" - not my most favorite, I must say.

What I love most about a Thai barbecue is the bucket. Think galvanized pail lined with a thick layer of clay. Three feet for resting a wok on and a vent low on the side.

If it didn't weigh about 10 kilos, I'd have brought one home many years ago. Some things you just have to enjoy where you find them, and walk away contented.

Leaves and Sticks

A Western friend told me once that the Thai word for "container" is leaf. Banana leaves, specifically. Banana plants grow here like weeds. If one starts in your garden, your Thai neighbor will likely as not advise you to pull it out. Once a stand of bananas gets started, it can really take hold.

But, in terms of a disposable container, the banana leaf is sublime. An immediately renewable, natural resource. Perfect for holding, steaming, or roasting your food of choice.


The Little Man's first encounter with banana leaf containers was a big hit. Thai desserts all made with sticky rice, coconut, palm sugar, and a little peanut. What's not to like? Though he was offered a bamboo stick to eat it with, he protested preferring a spoon.


Mummy, however, loves eating food with sticks. Pounded fish cake with kaffir lime leaf dipped in sweetened rice vinegar with fresh cucumber and chilis. Oh, boy.

Spot the Potential Lawsuit 8

Loyal reader, you will of course remember the "Spot the Potential Lawsuit" game. In Thailand, it's just too freakin' easy. Open eyes. Look left. Spot two or three. Look right. Repeat. Since I never tire of this game, I offer you three quick shots in the category "cauldrons of boiling oil (or water)."


On Sunday evening, I and every other ambulatory human in Chiang Mai went to "Thanon Khun Dtern," literally "Street People Walk." The Walking Street is the best reason to live in Chiang Mai. Each Sunday beginning at 5pm, 2.5 km of city streets are closed to vehicular traffic and vendors and food purveyors line the sidewalks. This means Sunday dinner is always eaten on bamboo sticks and from banana leaf dishes (more on that soon).


It also means gallons and gallons of boiling palm oil and water sit just inches from the finger tips and skirt hems of passers-by. And, the Little Man doesn't get it. Thai kids grow up with these open hazards and mostly steer clear. My Little Man is not so savvy, so he rides safely in his little stroller a good meter or more from this potential lawsuit, happily jabbing his bamboo stick into gobs and gobs of sticky, sweet "khanom Thai" (Thai dessert).

Almost Like Home

If you know us at all, you know that the Little Man is fascinated by mixers. We have spent many mornings hanging at the edge of the mixing bowl in our local bakery. Chiang Mai, happily, has a reasonable substitute, and last Sunday we confused this dear Thai baker by staring into his big mixer.


Chiang Mai's U.N. Irish Pub bakes the best bread in the city. Full stop. And that means that the spirits of the shop (and, as you know, all places have their resident spirits) get daily offerings of freshly baked bread. Most Thai spirits must satisfy themselves with rice, whiskey, and cigarettes. I'm thinking that the spirits of the Irish Pub may be a little thick around the middle, if you know what I mean.


What's missing, of course, is the real reason we bundle up in coats, hats, and mittens to get to our local bakery every morning. It's who we find when we get there. Oh, the feeling of walking in and seeing someone (actually quite a few someones) genuinely glad you came in out of the cold.

At Last... Yum

Because I lived in Thailand for three years, friends assume I can cook Thai food. Wrong. My own cooking tends toward "American blendy." What shear delight it is to be back with the cuisine of my heart. (Yes, I know I complained about it endlessly when I was pregnant, but that was just my cells demanding home food.)

Pad Thai. The mac and cheese of Thailand. Fishy, salty, sweet (but not too sweet), crunchy and chewy. What more could you ask of a simple dish?

On my second long visit to Thailand, I spent a few short days living with the Thai nuns at a temple in Rayong. Everything in Thailand was a mystery to me then, and when I arrived in their little house, they were cooking, of course. Mer Shi, in her white cotton shirt and sarong, had her hands wrist deep in a metal bowl filled with brown liquid. After working it with her fingers, she pulled out veiny white matter and small kidney-red stones. I was horrified. Flora or fauna? I was sure it was snake guts.

On that visit, I never figured it out. Many visits later, I understood that she had been extracting the sweet, sticky, mahogany colored tamarind paste from the hulled pods which grow on this delicate tree. Tamarind paste is sweet-sour and the required ingredient for an authentic Pad Thai.

You will find American recipes which substitute ketchup. Feh... Luckily, I have a little tamarind paste in my frig in frozen New York. Yippee! When I get home, real Pad Thai is in our near future. Promise.


And, while we're at it, why not a little Plaa Tap Tim Taut? (Are you hungry yet?)

Pi Mai (That's New Year to You and Me)

In Thailand, New Year comes but three times a year. You get January 1st. You get Chinese New Year. And, you get Songkhran in mid-April. Each one is a little different, but with Thai people involved there is always lots of temple visiting and lots of whiskey (contradictory, I know, but there you have it).

Last night all over Chiang Mai there were not-so-minor explosives of the fireworks variety, whiskey and Thai barbecue on the sidewalks in front of shop houses, and thousands of paper lantern balloons streaming into the full moon sky carrying away our bad luck from 2552 (Buddha year).

I spent the evening at Wat Phra Singh were there was a temple fair with great street food and live traditional music. Cars with Bangkok plates streamed through the main gate depositing the wealthy children of local Chiang Mai families. They had come to make merit, donations small and large to the temple to assure good luck in 2553.

The little boy lit his first khom, a paper hot air balloon twice his size, and followed it until it disappeared in a small stream of glowing dots.

In the morning before 6 am, my Thai neighbors began rattling around in their little apartments preparing to feed the monks on their first alms round of the New Year. Monks (and helpers to carry bags of food and small necessities) walked the street barefoot and blessed the good men and women of Chiang Mai for their perpetual care of the sangha.

Those who rose a little later made their way to the city's scores of temples to make merit with incense, candles, and more gifts for the monks. The temples are beautifully decorated with flags, festoons, flower garlands, and these lucky zodiac flags. A long line of people waited at the main chedi of Wat Phra Singh to respect the Buddha and hang their lucky flags. (The novice monks made their way around the chedi every once in awhile to collect and redistribute the flags to the parade of new arrivals.)

The little boy had quite a day. He met and prayed with many kindly monks. He lit his first tambon candle, and he continued his fascination with Buddha images, large and small. Something that he has expressed since before he could express much of anything.

It was a lovely beginning to what is sure to be an exceptional year. Vast love to our loyal readers and Sawadee Pi Mai to you too!