Light Snacks Will Be Served

My Goodness That's a Huge... Krok (Note: Actually it's called a saak, but sexual innuendo still intact. Thanks Mr T)

 

Each and every weekend tens of thousands of Thais and tourists waddle through Chatujak Market, which I'm told is the world's largest weekend bazaar. Regardless, it's huge, and wading through the sweaty current of humanity makes one hungry. This being Thailand, there's food everywhere -- but much of it the the hotdog-and-rubbery-meatball-on-a-stick shit that I'll never, ever eat. Life's too short for bad sausage. 

Behind Chatujak proper is the JJ Mall, and across the traffic jammed street from that mall is a parking lot. Every Sunday evening people drive pickups loaded with antiques and old wood from upcountry and sell them there in the dark. I've been to this 'flashlight market' a few times in the past few weeks, looking for interesting pieces for my restaurant. And in going there I stumbled upon a restaurant called Big Krok. (Krok is the Thai word for mortar and pestle.) 

This is not an exemplary Isaan restaurant. They do a few things well, including char-grilled fatty beef dipped in a spicy, sour jiim jeeow. And because I was eating there with my manager/friend Thanapat, I ate some things that I usually don't in Isaan restaurants. Like a plate of crispy grilled cow udder, which almost has the texture of squid (not as gross as it may sound) and a fiery salad of mint, beef blood, chili and tripe. 

But what is most memorable about this place are the truly massive mortar and pestles that decorate the front of the shop (see above) which are used to make papaya salad. That, and the frightening male members above them, which are a common sight upcountry but are rarely so prominently displayed in Bangkok. "They're there to make lucky," Pat said as he ate some chewy, very beefy meat. Then he looked back again, laughed, and shook his head.

 

Cause it's Friday: Meet My New Friends

Yeah, we're working like dogs these days. But occasionally there's some time to rest (especially if you're a Thai construction worker...)

In between trips to the banks and phone calls and damage control and coughing on dust, I kick it with Tik, the little guy next door at the flower shop. Check out his amulet. It's fresh.

And after I've had some stir-fried chicken with basil and egg at Tik's mom's shop (she cooks and arranges flowers) I may head over to my furniture maker's spot (Joe's BO, Ekkamai Soi 18). Joe makes really comfortable chairs and his little pet is the cutest damn dog I've ever seen... so I'll let you in on the secret. 

Alright then. Have a good weekend. Sleep on a pile of rocks, lose your shirt and sport a medallion, or bark like a fluffy duck if you like. Me, I'm off to dinner. 

Cause It's Friday: Indian Fashion Edition

Man, I could use a little Spike Fashion in my life at the moment. 

 

Shot at a market in Mapusa, Goa, about a year ago...

Cause It's Friday

And because you probably deserve some ice cream, or a beer, or whatever.

Have a great weekend and thanks for stopping by.

I'll be less lazy on the writing tip next week. 

Trat, Thailand, 2006, from inside --> out. 

 

Pictures of Nong Khai

 

I've been away for awhile, busying myself with the impending opening of a restaurant. And there won't be too much traveling for awhile for that same reason. I did recently file a story at The Atlantic about a trip I took up north to visit organic rice farmers.

I will be serving rice from the AAN (Alternative Agriculture Network) at my place, so in about two months time you can stop over and see what the fuss is about. Their sticky rice is particularly good; when you steam some its nutty fragrance fills the room. I could eat it with just about anything. 

On another note, I recently read a story that described Nong Khai - a sleepy town on the Mekong which I really enjoyed a few months back - in a pretty unflattering manner (I'm not going to link). But I loved the little town with its temples and Vietnamese restaurants and funky local noodle dishes and especially the psychedelic Buddhist sculpture park, Sala Kaew Koo.

So I thought I'd share a few photos with you of my time in Nong Khai, a wonderful place to spend a few days, eating, wandering around, wondering. Have a great weekend. 

Cause it's Friday - Poodle on a Motorbike

Surat Thani - a quiet Thai town most tourists race through on their way to noisier nearby islands -  has a wonderful night market serving all kinds of street snacks. Twice we've stopped for a night there, on our way south, to eat and stroll through the market. Last Sunday, in between bites, I spotted this poodle waiting for his foraging owners to return to their bike. It made me smile. Enjoy your weekend. 

 

Cause it's Friday: Political Calculus Edition

On Sunday, I'm off to Nakhorn Si Thammerat and Sunday couldn't come sooner. Bangkok is awash in politics. Last night, a few servers at my favorite Isaan restaurant were decked out in red. On the television behind me a General chatted with reporters. Mid-meal, a friend left. He had lost his appetite. The worst part about all this is the expedient and cyclical nature of discontent. Without the yellows, the reds would have nothing to fight against. And as Democrats complain about Bangkok grinding to a halt under the pressure of demonstrations, many ignore the real reason that they're happening. Meanwhile, the silent majority suffers. 

Two nights ago I was wandering down Rama 4 in the dark, wondering what to make of all this. Would this be happening today, if the opposition party didn't shut down Bangkok, and its airport about 15 months ago? And as I walked beneath the elevated highway, I saw this scribbled on the concrete in chalk. It said Suvarnabhumi.

  

Who Trims That Thing?

One of Bangkok's many mysteries is this remarkably wide, perfectly flat tree that sits inside a ring of race track at The Royal Bangkok Sports Club. I took this photo yesterday, and it hasn't been stretched for effect (though I did crop it). I want one just like it. If wishes were horses...

 

Cause It's Friday: Grilled Fish Edition

The small, narrow grills you see across Asia -- the kind that are often affixed to the backs of bicycles or carts and used to grill small bits of meat on sticks -- are perfectly suited to grilling one large fish. I picked up a grill last week for less than ten dollars, and with a tiny amount of good charcoal it burns slow and hot for up to an hour. Cover an entire fish (scales still attached) with rock salt and let it rest in the fridge for up to 8 hours. Then set it atop the grill, open a beer, and cook your way into the weekend. Or I will. Cheers. 

 

AA Gill Thinks I'm a Fool (he might be right)

While drinking my Monday morning coffee in Bangkok, I came across this article by AA Gill, The Times acerbic restaurant critic. It was called ‘The golden rules for a perfect restaurant.’ Just the sort of thing I should start my week with, I thought.

If Gill had written that headline – or me for that matter – it would have been called something different. Perhaps ‘You will never realise your dream, deluded fool!’ or perhaps, ‘AA Gill really hates when people tell him he should open a restaurant, because doing that is quite clearly insane.’ This was actually a very bad way to start my week.

I’ve worked in restaurants, reviewed restaurants for a living, and filed features on all sorts of restaurant-related business. I agree with much of what Gill says in his piece, but as my wife wisely tells me, ‘sometimes, it’s the way that you say it.' I’d like to add this: ‘Sometimes, it’s what you leave out.’

And what his piece leaves out, and what so many food industry professionals don’t readily admit when they’re explaining the woes of restaurant life, is that hospitality is infectious. Serving great food and drinks gets in your blood, it occupies your mind, and it might just supplant good sense. But it is very often about passion, not just about building a well-oiled factory, as Gill suggests. (Oh, and hard work, location, marketing and skill don’t factor in much, either, according to the article).

But for all those failed caterers and foolish concepts that form the backbone of Gill's brittle logic, there are a heck of a lot of successful restaurant operators too. People that love seeking out great ingredients, conceptualizing menus, leading a team of cooks and servers, walking through a crowded dining room, head high. People that wouldn't be caught dead behind a desk, writing cynical restaurant criticism.

A restaurant is a business, but not one born out of good business sense or craven profit margins. Like it or not, many restaurants are born of something like love, and that does occasionally translate into success. That "elusive and capricious alchemy" which all restaurateurs strive for.

And twenty percent of them find that in three years time, apparently -- if you’d like to reduce all this to a jumble of numbers, Mister Gill.