Salt wells

Ban Bo Luang lies in far western Nan province, only a dozen kilometres from the Lao border. The town is nestled in an incredibly picturesque valley with forested mountains on either side and is inhabited by three ethnic groups: Htin, Lua and northern Thai. The town is colloquially known as Ban Bo Klua (Salt Well Village) because the town's well produces extremely salty water. You'd think this would be horrible luck (in fact there are freshwater wells and a beautiful stream there as well), but from this well the locals have been extracting ‘mountain salt’ for an estimated 300 years.

Salt, as some of you probably know, was previously a seriously valuable commodity, particularly for those with no access to the sea. It’s said that caravans from remote corners of China would stop by Ban Bo Luang to load up on  the ‘white gold’ before returning home. Although just about everybody around the world has access to salt nowadays, little has changed at Ban Bo Luang, and they're still collecting salt as they've done for centuries now.

The salty water originates from a couple deep wells in the centre of the town:

The water is pumped from these wells into several rough huts that have rows of large earthen 'stoves':

The water is then boiled for about three hours until much of the liquid evaporates and crystals start to form. The salt is then scooped into bamboo baskets to drain:

The guy pictured here is a native of Ban Bo Klua and has been doing this job much of his life:

When it's his shift he actually sleeps in the smoky hut, waking every few hours to refuel the fires, scoop salt and refill water. The salt is sold in bags directly from the village, delivered elsewhere around Nan, and is now even being purified at the local hospital and used in different dermatological treatments. I reckon they should package it and slap on a label that says 'Artisan Hand-Collected Htin Mountain Salt' and sell it to people New York City for $8 a bag.

Gratuitous khao soi image #6

  Phayao, a small town that most Thais aren’t even aware exists, turned about to be one of the more pleasant destinations of my trip. The town’s setting at the edge of a vast swamp is a lot more interesting than it sounds, and the city also had some very tasty food

The khao soi at Phayao’s Khao Soi Saeng Phian was both rich in flavour and vast in size. I generally don’t like big bowls of khao soi – it’s so much more fun and satisfying to eat two small bowls (which is generally how the dish is served in Chiang Mai) than one large one – but I enjoyed it nonetheless. The broth was tasty and they employed good quality pickled mustard cabbage. And better yet, for those of us who like northern-style noodles, there were at least four other places within a block radius serving khao soi, khanom jeen nam ngiaw, or both.

Khao Soi Saeng Phian Th Tha Kwan, Phayao 9am-3pm

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Deep-fried som tam

  Som tam, green papaya salad, is probably the most popular dish in Thailand. The dish likely originates in northeastern Thailand, or perhaps Laos, but can now be found in virtually every corner of the country. It's equal parts cheap, spicy, quick and satisfying, leaving little wonder why it's become so popular.

However when a dish reaches this ubiquitous and iconic status, the most natural next step is to change it somehow. This has already begun to happen to Thailand's beloved som tam. The most recent twist I encountered at a small cafe/resturant in Nan was deep-fried som tam (pictured above).

The papaya actually appeared to be more dried than deep-fried; there was none of the oiliness or sogginess typically associated with deep-fried...papaya. There was some regular shredded green papaya thrown in, as well as some carrot and the usual tomatoes, peanuts, long beans and other seasonings. Like a good som tam should be, the dish was satisfying and refreshing, but had the added benefit of being super crispy. The only real downside I could find would be the addition some overly-sweet dried fish.

Kamlang Dee Th Sumonthewarat, Nan 11am-7.30pm

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Gratuitous khao soi image #5

This bowl of chicken khao soi was downed in the lovely city of Nan. The restaurant is located about a two-minute walk from Wat Phumin, my favourite Buddhist temple in Thailand. Wat Phumin's Buddhist murals, executed by a Thai Lue artist called Thit Buaphan in the late 19th century, are exquisite; this bowl of khao soi was merely acceptable. Sweet was the dominating flavour, if I remember correctly, although the dab of plain coconut cream was a welcome aesthetic flourish.

The sign out front simply reads 'Khao Soi' and is located next door to a bakery/cafe called Hot Bread.

Khao Soi/Hot Bread 38/1-2 Th Suriyaphong, Nan 089 635 9375 7am-4pm

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Eating in Nan

  Nan, a little-visited city in northern Thailand, has a great atmosphere, an attractive setting, friendly people and some of the most beautiful temples in the country. Unfortunately, it also has one of the worst eating scenes of any city in Thailand.

Actually, that's not entirely accurate. I'm sure there are some great home cooks in Nan, and the prepared food and ingredients at the markets looked pretty tasty. And eventually I did find one interesting local restaurant. But for a visitor without access to a kitchen or even dishes, the Nan's food choices were pretty uninspiring, and sometimes just plain bad; I left one meal (a simple vegetable stir-fry, I'm not entirely sure how they managed to mess it up) half-eaten on the table, something I don't think I've ever done before in Thailand.

So on my last day in the city, rather than eat yet another mediocre restaurant meal, I decided to buy lunch to go at the morning market. Everything was wrapped in banana leaf, so I didn't need any plates, and the the various dishes are meant eaten by hand with sticky rice in the northern style, so silverware wasn't even necessary. And my hotel had some tables on a balcony overlooking the street, so I didn't have to eat on my hotel bed or directly in front of a dressing table mirror.

The meal included, clockwise from 12 o'clock, sticky rice; par-boiled veggies, including some nice local beans; deep-fried pork rinds; sai ua, a type of herb-filled local sausage; nam phrik taa daeng, a chili dip made from dried chilies; and aep paa, a steamed banana leaf packet of fish and chili paste. I think it came to less than 50 baht (about $1.50) for everything, and it was by far the tastiest meal I had in Nan.

Gratuitous khao soi image #4

Located almost exactly halfway between Chiang Saen and Sop Ruak ('The Golden Triangle'), Jinda's Kitchen claims to have been making northern-style dishes for 50 years. They have a small menu of only about six or eight items, one of which was, of course, khao soi. Her version was decent, a little on the bland side, I must admit, but her khanom jeen nam ngiaw (unfortunately I ate it before I remember to take a pic) was fantastic, probably among the best I've consumed. Either way, it's worth a stop, as there's little in the way of good food, particularly that of the local variety, in this corner of Chiang Rai.

Jinda's Kitchen 086 654 3116 Rte 1290 (near Km 31) 7am-8pm

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Pok Pok on The Splendid Table

Andy Ricker, owner of Pok Pok, the lauded Portland, Oregon...Asian? restaurant (just don't call Thai--listen to find out why), was recently interviewed on NPR's The Splendid Table. Episode available here.

I really like his approach to making this kind of food, and the dishes sound fantastic. Just wish I could eat there... In the interview Andy mentions northern Thai-style laap and mustard leaves, both pictured above.

Blood and guts

  If you can read Thai, and spend enough time in northern Thailand, eventually you'll start to see the word luu on restaurant signs just about everywhere. I had a vague notion of this northern dish, knew it was something blood-related, and noticed that it always seemed to be found to be at restaurants that serve the famous northern-style laap. But other than this, I had never seen or sampled it. Recently in Phrae, I was able to get a crash course in luu.

It is indeed a blood dish, raw blood being the primary ingredient. The owner of the shop that was recommended to me explained that the blood must be purchased very fresh. It tends to coagulate somewhat nonetheless, he told me, so he still has to run it through a blender when he gets back home. He then adds eggs (raw) and lemongrass leaves (not the stalks, just the leaves; he made this very clear). He then kneads this mixture together by hand for about 20 minutes, before pouring it through a cloth strainer and storing the strained blood on ice. I forgot to ask why eggs were added, but I suspect the lemongrass leaves play some role in preventing the blood from coagulating.

To prepare the dish, a ladleful of the blood is poured into a bowl and mixed with a chili paste (that contains, among other things, makhwaen, the dried spice that's ubiquitous in northern Thailand), some chopped cilantro, and a pinch of salt and MSG:

As shown at the top of this post, the blood mixture is served with a mixture of crispy fried noodles, deep-fried kaffir lime leaves, deep-fried sections of large intestine ('Very difficult to prepare,' explained the owner. 'They have to be washed very well, then boiled, then deep-fried. It takes a long time.'), deep-fried pork rinds and a bit of the liquid from a jar of pickled garlic. To eat it, the blood is poured over the noodle mixture (he said that some people prefer bits of boiled or raw pork fat in place of the noodles), and mixed thoroughly:

I sampled a bit of it, and honestly, it was quite tasty. This guy has created an amazing homemade chili paste, and it was this flavour that came through most clearly. The texture was crunchy, mostly due to the deep-fried intestines and pork rinds. The colour, a brilliant, deep red, was for me the most disturbing part. I was alone in my tasting though; 'I've been making this dish for 22 years,' the owner told me, 'and I've never eaten it. I don't like to eat raw things.' I asked how he could make it without tasting. 'Experience,' he replied.

Other dishes served at his restaurant included, and I'm not making this up, grilled cow teats ('Very good, better than other kinds of beef') and aep orn muu, banana leaf packets of grilled pork brains.

Welcome to northern Thailand.

Gratuitous khao soi image #3

If you'll allow me to backtrack a bit, I forgot to mention that I did eventually find a decent version of khao soi in Chiang Rai. Sold at the side of the street under two gigantic trees, Somkhuan Khao Soi does a pretty good bowl, his broth having the smokey flavour of chako, a dried spice that some vendors use in their curry paste mixture. Khanom jeen nam ngiaw is also available.

Khao Soi Somkhuan Th Singha Khlai 8am-3pm, Mon-Fri

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Ah Ying

I didn't manage to find a whole lot of regional Thai food in the tiny riverfront town of Chiang Saen. Even the town's night market had the tired 'franchise' vendors selling the same dishes you'll find just about everywhere in Thailand nowadays. However the fact that cargo boats from Jinghong, in Yunnan province, dock at Chiang Saen meant that there were a couple interesting Chinese options. In particular, I had a great breakfast at Ah Ying, a family-run noodle joint located across the street from the Mekong River. I was pretty sure I was getting authentic Chinese-style noodles here because a) the entire family was speaking Chinese and b) the noodles were hand-pulled.

My order of a bowl of noodles got the two Chinese guys into action, grabbing a ball of dough and pulling, twisting and whacking it into shape:

Less than two minutes later the thin strands were dunked into boiling water, and were served with a light broth, a handful of greens, and very un-Thai topping of minced pork and pickled mustard cabbage that was equal parts spicy and sour. It alone was reason enough to go dine in Chiang Saen.

Ah Ying 778/1 Th Rimkhong, Chiang Saen, Chiang Rai 089 655 3468 7am-10pm

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Gratuitous khao soi image #2

This may look like just another bowl of beef khao soi, but they do things a bit differently at Khao Soi Islam, in Mae Sai. Rather than the typical yellow wheat and egg noodles, this version, which they call pa pa soi, employed thick noodles made from brown rice. The noodles were short and coarse, and had the texture and appearance of boiled taro, which is initially what I thought they were. Another interesting thing about this restaurant was that the owners, Thai Muslims of Chinese extraction, and staff communicated in a seemingly flawless mixture of Chinese, central Thai, northern Thai and Burmese.

Khao Soi Islam 140 Th Phahonyothin, Mae Sai, Chiang Rai 053 733 026 7am-5pm

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Breakfast in Burma

  While in Mae Sai I decided to sneak over the border for breakfast in Burma. Specifically, I was looking forward to eating a bowl of mohinga, the thick fish broth and rice noodle dish that's often considered the unofficial national dish of that country. After a morning of wandering, I eventually found my mohinga, but not before running into several other interesting things.

My search began in the town's hectic morning market:

I love fresh markets in Burma because they typically take place directly on the streets. The market just across the border in Mae Sai was in a dark, smelly building; better for protection from the rain, but far less photogenic and user friendly. Here virtually everything was stacked in neat piles on banana leaves out in the open.

After some wandering, I eventually found my mohinga, prepared at the stall shown at the top of this post. Although it may not look that attractive, it was good:

as it always is; Mohinga, like a hamburger (in my opinion, at least), is almost always good--never amazing and rarely bad.

It was getting later at this point, perfect time for a visit to another Burmese food fave of mine: a teashop. My first stop was at a Muslim teashop where I downed a glass of chai and two delicious slices of semolina cake:

My next tea stop was the popular, slightly more cosmopolitan Valentine:

where I had two more glasses and some greasy samosas:

Samosas, on the other hand, can often be pretty bad.

At this point I was feeling no little pride in the fact that I had successfully ordered the mohinga and all my teas in Burmese (essentially reaching the extent of my Burmese language skills). I was also reminded of the way the Burmese call the wait staff in restaurants: by making an annoying kissing sound.

On my way back to Thailand I came across yet another group of monks:

proving that, issues of food aside, things are pretty much the same on either side of the border.

Khao soi noi

  Despite the amazing diversity of food in this country, much of the street food in Thailand is actually quite homogeneous; the same brand of bamee (wheat and egg noodles), Chai Sii, can be found in just about any town or city; central Thai dishes such as phat thai or phat sii iw are prepared at the farthest extremities of the country; and it's become the exception rather than the norm to find regional dishes at night markets. Luckily, when I was recently in Mae Sai, Thailand's northernmost town, I encountered the exception in khao soi noi, a Shan dish that, according to the incredibly detailed information on the cart (I didn't manage to read all of it), has its origins in neighbouring Chiang Saen district. Although the name might suggest the famous northern curry noodle dish, it's entirely different, and is probably more similar to bánh cuốn, the Vietnamese freshly-steamed noodle.

The first step involves spreading a dab of rice flour batter on a small tin, which is then steamed so it solidifies in a thin layer. When this was done, the vendor then handed me the warm tin and asked me to add whatever seasonings I liked. With her help, I think I managed to add just about her entire arsenal: ground sesame, ground peanuts, lime juice, garlic oil, soy sauce, MSG, three kinds of chili paste and dried chili powder. She took my custom mixture, added a bit more rice flour batter, mixed the entire mess once more and topped it with an egg:

A pinch of vegetables (thinly-sliced cabbage and fresh chilies) was sprinkled on top before putting the tray back in the steam. It's worth pointing out that rather than somehow elevating it over steam as one would normally do, she simply let the dish float on rapidly boiling water:

It took about four minutes to steam each dish, and as seen above, her 'steamer' can only hold one dish at a time. This meant some very slow going, which I mentioned to her. 'Yes,' she said, 'you have to be patient to eat this dish!'

Eventually my khao soi noi was deemed ready and was served by folding it over on itself and topping it with a bit more of the cabbage mixture:

The result was something like a spicy Burmese pancake--eaten with chopsticks. I quite enjoyed it, particularly because I was aware that it was only in this particular town that I could eat this dish.

Khao Soi Noi Street vendor, Th Phahonyothin, Mae Sai, Chiang Rai 4-8pm

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Breakfast in Mae Salong

Mae Salong is a remote hilltop community of Chinese immigrants in Chiang Rai province. The majority of people who live here are the descendants of KMT fighters who, after the communist victory in 1949, fled to Burma and then Thailand. Despite having been away from China for so long, their culture is still very strong, and you'll hear the Yunanese dialect of Chinese spoken much more than Thai (those who can speak Thai tend to do it with a funny Chinese accent). It goes without saying then that Chinese food, in particular dishes from Yunnan province, are also big here.

One of the best places to sample local food is at the morning market. It's a tiny affair and starts early; it's best to get there before 7am.

Beakfast at Mae Salong's morning market means two things: soy milk and deep-fried fingers of dough (pictured at the top of this post). Unlike virtually every Thai person, I'm usually not a fan of this combo, but they were done so well here I had the same breakfast two days in a row. The paa thong kho (the Thai name for the deep-fried dough) were crispy without being oily, and the soy milk was thick and rich.

Other than shoppers, you'll find the daily parade of monks at the market:

and members of the various local hill tribes:

Another breakfast option, if you're a late riser, is a bowl of the town's excellent egg and wheat noodles:

They're topped with a mixture of thin slices of boiled pork, a homemade chili paste and deep-fried garlic. The dish is very popular and is available at several shops around town. This bowl was taken at a shop on the main stip called 'Yunanist Noodle Shop'.

Gratuitous khao soi image

To my surprise, it was actually a bit of a struggle to find khao soi in Chiang Rai. This bowl is from Phor Jai, apparently one of the more famous khao soi joints in town, but I found it mediocre; the broth was quite bland and I'm not a big fan of this particular type of deep-fried noodle topping. The pickled veggies were good though, and some might like the fact that user-friendly diced chicken breast was used, rather than the typical chicken leg.

Khao Soi Phor Jai Th Jet Yot, Chiang Rai 7am-4pm

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Paa Suk

  It's been far too long and I apologize. I've been working furiously on the next edition of Lonely Planet's Thailand, and simply haven't had the time to blog. I am in Chiang Rai at the moment, doing research for Thailand, and will do my best to share the food discoveries I've been making up here.

Guided by an old issue of the Thai-language food magazine Khrua, my first great food find here in Chiang Rai is a local noodle restaurant called Paa Suk.

The signature dish here is naam ngiaw, a thin broth (usually pork, but here they also do a beef version) flavoured with a local chili paste and tomatoes, typically served over fresh khanom jeen noodles ('northern spaghetti', if you will) . The pork version (pictured at the top of this post) was deliciously meaty, although I personally prefer the type served in Mae Hong Son that emphasizes sour tomatoes over meat. The dark cubes you see are coagulated blood, and the dish is served with sides of bean sprouts, pickled mustard cabbage and slices of lime.

They also do a very northern dish called khao kan jin:

This is rice that has been mixed with (again) blood, wrapped in a banana leaf, then steamed. The result is drizzled with garlic oil and served with fresh coriander, cucumber and green onion. Very nice, and you wouldn't know there was blood involved unless I told you.

The restaurant is currently being run by the third generation of the same family, and now they even have a branch on Soi 3, Th Silom, in Bangkok, which I'll be sure to investigate as soon as I get back.

Paa Suk Th Sankhongnoi, Chiang Rai 053 752 471 7am-3pm

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The Last Chinatown

After many, many visits to Bangkok's Chinatown in the last year, my seemingly aimless wanderings have culminated in this; beginning on December 6th, 15 of the images I captured there will be exhibited at Kathmandu, the Bangkok photography gallery owned by famed Thai photographer, Manit Sriwanichpoom. The official press release:

The Last Chinatown

A photographic exhibition by

Austin Bush

6 December 2008 – 25 January 2009

[Opening party on Sat 6 Dec at 6.30 - 9 pm]

American photographer Austin Bush spent a year exploring the back streets and main drags of Yaowarat, Bangkok's Chinatown. His cinematic images depict the realities and oddities of life in one of Bangkok's oldest neighbourhoods: the tiny alleyways with creepy old men and smoking teapots; the clacking of Chinese chess pieces and choppy conversations in Tae Chew; tired prostitutes and lotus bud-shaped coffins; bespectacled dogs and beggars. Unlike other Chinatowns around the world, which often seem little more than culturally-themed shopping centers, Bangkok's clings to its roots and continues to be a living, breathing, albeit gritty community.

Austin Bush

After graduating from the University of Oregon in 1999, Austin Bush received a scholarship to study Thai at Chiang Mai University, and has remained in Thailand ever since. Austin photographs for various publications and writes guidebooks for Lonely Planet. Samples of his work can be seen at www.austinbushphotography.com. This is his first photographic exhibition. Kathmandu is located on 87 Th Pan, virtually across the street from the Hindu temple on Th Silom (see map below). Additional details can be obtained at the Kathmandu website. I hope those of you in Bangkok who read this blog can all make it to the opening!

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Jay 2008

  Jay is the Chinese/Thai word for vegetarian, and from now until October 9th is the annual Ngaan Jay, Vegetarian Festival. To be honest though, it is quite possibly the most innacurately-named festival around. Although everything for sale in Thailand's various Chinese districts during this period is entirely meat free, you'll actually find very few, if any, actual vegetables. Just about everything is either some form of starch (noodles, rice, potatoes) or protein (soy).

In addition to a lack of vegetables, virtually everything is fried:

Another odd aspect of the festival is that Bangkok's entire Chinese community seems to collectively decide that it's not capable of cooking at home during the 10 days, and instead buys every meal 'to go' from a truly remarkable number of street stalls:

Nonetheless, if you're willing to brave the potentially detrimental health risks of the Vegetarian Festival, it's heaps of fun, and in Chinatown, everybody is involved. In Talat Mai, the main market alley, vendors who normally sell meat instead sell soy-based meat substitutes:

If you look closely, you'll see veggie ground pork, veggie scallops, and even veggie pork stomach and intestines!

Across the way, even Nay Uan, normally one of the meatiest stalls around, goes jay, serving up tofu, soy protein and mushrooms in place of pork offal:

Just next door, OK Phat Thai has ditched the epynomous dish and makes a variety of meat-free noodle stir-fries and vegtarian hoy jor:

But my favourite Vegetarian Festival dish is fried yellow wheat noodles, phat mee leuang:

Fried yes, but also one of the only dishes that actually includes vegetables.

Khanom tup tap

It's that time of year again: Thailand's annual Vegetarian Festival is in full swing, and as always, the best place to eat is the Chinatown area. Most people come for the various meat-free noodle and fried dishes, but I personally can't wait for khanom tup tap. This is an old-school snack made from peanuts, sugar and a bit of salt pounded into a flaky roll--via a pretty amazing process.

It all begins by cooking roasted peanuts in boiling syrup:

The resulting mixture, which resembles still-warm peanut brittle, is cooled then thoroughly blended by two men working wooden mallets. During the pounding, the peanut mixture is repeatedly folded onto itself, giving the dish the phyllo-like layers you can see in the first pic. The sound (tup tap, tup tap) made by the pounding is the origin of the snack's name:

The paste is then stretched out into a long thin sheet and is filled with even more ground peanuts, with the sheet serving as a wrapper of sorts. The whole lot melts together and the long tubes are cut into bite-sized pieces:

The result is simultaneously savoury, sweet and crispy, and is remarkably similar in taste and texture to the the American candy bar, Butterfinger. As Phil Lees can confirm, khanom tup tap are also incredibly addictive. Get your tup tap on from now until October 9th, at the shrine described below.

Available during Bangkok's annual Vegetarian Festival, late September/early October, at the Jo Sue Kong Shrine, Talat Noi (see map below).

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Uan Phochana

Kuay jap, a thick broth with deep-fried crispy pork, pork offal and thick noodles is not a dish I thought I would like. In general, I try to keep my meat consumption to a minium, and I like noodles well enough, but rarely crave them. However with kuay jap it's the broth that keeps drawing me back... The thick liquid is so laden with pepper that it's positively spicy.

Uan Phochana ('Fat Nutrition'--don't ask) is one of a couple very, very popular stalls in Bangkok's Chinatown selling this dish. Naay Uan ('Mr Fat', you sense a trend here?), just up the road, is probably more popular, but my latest discovery had a couple touches I really liked. There seems to be less emphasis on the offal at Uan Phochana (although it could be they just prepared it that way for the White Guy), the crispy pork could shatter a tooth, and the dish is served with tiny, crispy fingers of deep-fried dough:

But best of all, there's that pepper burn...

Uan Phochana (Google Maps link) Th Yaowarat 02 812 0640 6.30pm-4am