Light Snacks Will Be Served

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. 

Stuck-up Pizza (or, The Calzone Incident)

You know what's a real bitch?

How bout when you're feeling ill, really hungry, and forced to feed yourself or brave the 93F heat outside for some soup noodles? Noodles? Nope, no way. 

But then you realize you've got some pizza dough in the fridge, and some mozzarella, and some mushrooms and leftover tomato sauce. That's right, you got all of it. And suddenly, life seems sunnier. 

 

So you take out your favorite empty-fish-sauce-bottle-cum-rolling-pin and get down to business. The oven's getting hot, you're slicing and dicing, and then you decorate the dough with all that leftover goodness. You're feeling pretty pleased with yourself in spite of your mild fever, so you snap a photo. And then disaster strikes. You've got a stuck up pizza on your hands. The kind of dough that, even though you dusted it with semolina, is stuck to your counter like bubblegum on a sidewalk. Motherf@#$%&r won't budge. 

So you delicately peel this delicate mofo off the countertop, real gentle-like. Then you fold it in half and pinch the s#$t out of it. Then you grab a spatula, and pry the rest of that insolent bastard off before it knows what's happening. Then you toss it the oven with glee, knowing its stuck-up stickiness can't battle against your blistering-hot stone. Punk-ass pizza.

 

But when it comes out, and as you eat it, you realize it's much better than that innocuous pizza you began with. And after a few bites, you decide that maybe you shouldn't have been such a judgmental asshole; it's way better than soup noodles could ever be, for this sick cook in search of comfort.     

 

A Snack Up Isaan Way

Over the NYE holidays, I traveled in Isaan, stopping to cook with families in Chiang Khan and Nong Khai (you'll hear about the cooking in Nong Khai - with some great recipes - a little later). While up in Thailand's northeast, we also got to eat some regional things that rarely make their way down to Bangkok. I was reminded of that today, when I passed a local vegetable seller on my street, who happened to be selling some of these remarkable tomatoes that we found in markets along the Mekong.

Thailand has many superior agricultural products, but tomatoes aren't one of them. While slightly better than, say, the grainy, pale pink specimens that were the only kind I could find in much of China, Bangkok's tomato selection ain't great. Asia is not a place for good tomatoes (though I hear the Japanese have an heirloom fetish - of course they do). 

But these little guys - crisp, juicy, sweet, sour and even citrusy - were very nice. Both thick and thin-skinned, the small tomatoes varied dramatically in taste. Some added a fruity note similar to tomatillos, others were bitter or sugar sweet. They complimented a dish we encountered several times in Loei, which I've been craving lately for its simplicity.

We ate it once on the way from touristy Chiang Khan to Nong Khai. My wife and I spent two hours in Pak Chom's dusty parking lot/bus station/food market, before boarding a wooded-floored Mercedes bus, that seemed to move as much laterally it did forward. During that time, we tried the local specialties.

These noodles were a nice change from Isaan's meat-heavy cuisine, where occasions to eat a vegetarian dish are fairly few. In Loei we ate this simple, fresh noodle dish, where strands of batter are squeezed into boiling water, and are then cooked with some Chinese cabbage.  

 

The noodles are topped with some of those tomatoes above, and dressed by the diner with fish sauce, sugar, and a sauce made of fire-roasted chilies and coriander. Locals mixed with their fingers, then ate with their hands in the beds of pickup trucks. We ordered a few plates, then admired the delicate texture of the dish. There was a subtle, green sweetness in that plain, boiled cabbage. And in it an opportunity to do something Thais rarely let you do - taste a single flavor or two.  

Then we boarded the bus, and the grinding commenced.

There was five hours of rattling, squeaking, shaking, rumbling and shuffling ahead.  

WTF File: Inflight Gat

Nok Air, a discount carrier here in Thailand that flies to places like Trang and Chiang Mai, is perhaps the only airline on earth that sells advertising space to Smith & Wesson in its inflight magazine. In the September issue of Jibjib, they set aside a one-page soft advertorial for a stainless steel 'Chiefs Special' - which is, apparently, "one of the most desiarable 9mm pistols on the market." That is followed by what looks like a paid ad for a Glock-esque 9mm from S&W, made mostly of composites. 

Side note: Nok might also be the only airline that serves soft pretzels delicately wound around hot dogs. 

The Tapas of Taipei

I have nothing critical to say about the Taipei food scene, except that it was too hot in many instances to eat certain 'can't miss' dishes. When the mercury climbs close to the century mark (that's about 40C), I'm not in the mood for a great big bowl of beef noodles, in a greasy, soy-based stock. That, and the human crush of the night markets, coupled with soup steam and fry heat in Taipei's August sizzle, did occasionally border on torture. Especially in pants. 

But one style of eating made perfect sense during the season which the Fujianese across the Strait poetically call The Summer Tiger. And that's the late-night beer and seafood feast, at one of the city's ubiquitous Pijiu Wu. These are bar-slash-restaurants that specialize in sashimi, salty stir-fries, pickled seafood and little glasses of cold beer. As my guide for the night Monica told me, it's 'the tapas of Taipei.' And she should know; she runs the show at a popular tapas restaurant there.

Above is a dish of raw clams that have been pickled in rice wine, Chinese spices, and salt. They're cool and refresing, sweet and yet briny, and were utterly delicious.

 

Then we moved on to slices of juicy goose, lightly smoked, dipped in a vinegar-based chili sauce. Oh my. If you have the chance, don't miss this. For a second I felt a pang of guilt, as I nearly ate the entire plate... but you can't get this in Bangkok. And what followed just might be mankind's perfect accompaniment to brew:

Crunchy peanuts and crispy bits of battered squid (the mouth of the squid, I am told), dusted in lots of salt and white pepper, fried with leeks and few chilies.

The entire meal was light and fresh, perfectly designed for easy snacking with friends, sitting on low stools in a place somewhere in the darkness. We ate slowly, in a restaurant packed with young Taiwanese raising toasts, backlit by buzzing neon beer signs. Then I made my way home in the late evening breeze, and didn't even break a sweat. 

The restaurant in question is called (I think) Shun Xian Hai Cai Dian, and it is located on Bade Lu, Lane 300, in downtown Taipei. Call 2711-7189 if that doesn't get you there.