Catching the Dragon

The plan was simple: to eat. More specifically, to eat our way across Bangkok right up until the moment we were scheduled to hop the night train north to Chiang Mai. In a city known for its amazing and abundant street food, I imagined that the task at hand would unfold deliciously: dish by dish, street by street. Of course, my true intentions were not that pure. I was after something- ‘chasing the dragon’ as they say- searching for that elusive knock-your-socks-off, mind-altering meal that sticks with you until the end of days. It was a tall order. One that required all of the swirling miasma of the universe to come together just long enough to create a few precious moments in which colour, smell, sound and flavour would vibrate and harmonize perfectly in a single spot before mysteriously dissipating.

We stepped outside of our hotel, and within moments we had found ourselves in the midst of a breakfast rush. Plastic chairs and colourful umbrellas lined the sidewalk, something we would come to associate with good food during our travels through Thailand. There were lines of food carts and a flurry of activity as vendors dished up fresh-cooked vittles to a crowd of morning commuters. Minced chicken, heavy with lemongrass, wrapped and steamed in small banana leaf packets served off the back of a motorbike; gem coloured fruits and juices; fried eggs perched on top of seasoned rice with a side of sausage; butterflied chicken freshly grilled; and curry of every variety served in plastic bags for those in a hurry: our culinary adventure had begun.

I was beaming. I was in heaven. Curry for breakfast! A breakfast of champions.  We paused to caffeinate with an infamous Thai iced coffee: heavy with sugar and condensed milk, served over crushed ice. We decided to indulge and placed our order at Captain Squid’s. Flaky, buttery croissants, savoury puffs, and pain au chocolate; definitely not Thai, but decidedly delicious… Who’d have guessed such an oddly named little pastisserie would be offering up one of the best croissants I’d come across in some time?

We ambled on from there…leaving behind the posh steel and glass that defined the area surrounding our hotel and wandered into a neighbourhood of smaller, grittier buildings set up around some train tracks. To our right a tent village was emitting plumes of grilled-meat scented smoke… we purchased a skewer of ground pork meatballs to nosh on as we continued our walk. Straight ahead we caught a glimpse of a cinderblock dining hall with fresh fish roasting out front. We made a bee-line for our next taste target.

Since it was still early in the day, and as we had already been steadily eating, we decided on something ‘small’ and ‘refreshing’.  We placed an order for a plate of som tum (green papaya salad) and settled ourselves into a pair of blue plastic seats. Dotted with roasted peanuts and dried shrimp, the flavours were powerful. We didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the best som tum of our entire trip. It was sour and sweet with a slow burn that crept up and out from between fresh strands of crisp papaya. I regretted that there was not more room in my belly at the moment for another entree.

We back-tracked for a few blocks before heading north with the loose plan of making our way over toward Victory Monument. I had heard that there were a few spots where one could find a noteworthy bowl of boat noodles in that general vicinity. It was a bit of a hike, but we definitely needed to burn off some of the morning’s delights… Had to make room for more, after all! We walked up a hill and over a bridge where klong boats were passing each other on the narrow waterway, until we were face to face with the most impressive display of telephone wire art that I have ever seen. There have been some close seconds, but I have yet to spot anything that surpasses the tangle on Phetchaburi Road.

In the midst of the chaos, we picked a non-descript side street and planned our escape, hoping to find a hidden gem of a restaurant. A man was unloading eggs from the back of a truck. Stray cats groomed themselves in warm pools of sun. Birds chirped from hanging cages. On the side of the road a woman was cleaning fish, likely destined to be the lunch special.

We were about halfway down the dead end street when I smelled it: the scent of holy basil, of lemongrass, of something pungent, savoury, mouthwatering…I was suddenly transformed into one of those cartoon characters comically spirited away by the visible vapors of some nearby delicacy emitting a delirious smell. Practically on tiptoe, and completely powerless, we turned around and followed our noses to the source. A couple of woks were set up on the sidewalk outside of a small, signless restaurant- and aside from the cooks who were still in the process of setting up for the day’s menu, we had the place to ourselves.

 

A kindly old woman showed us to a table and brought us a large pitcher of tea. We pointed to the dishes we wanted from pages in a large photographic ‘look book’ of Thai cuisine and waited eagerly as our food was prepared. It was peaceful, we were tucked away in our little restaurant, surrounded by well-worn wooden stools and walls with chipped brown paint. We felt far away from the hub-bub of the city- the only sound was the sizzling woks. The smells that had lured us here once again filled the air… I could hardly contain my excitement as two plates were brought over to our table and placed before us: stir fried pork with basil and spicy seafood glass noodle salad.

With the first bite my head began to reel. Every flavour was harmonious. The basil and its complex perfume sang though the accompanying notes of sweet and spicy and soy in a way that enhanced but did not dominate. This was the Thai food of my fantasies. This place- this taste. In the two weeks of almost constant eating that would follow this moment, no dish that we would encounter would come close to the delicate, layered flavours that were dancing on our tongues at this exact moment.  Speechless, we continued to eat- onto the yum talay.  Tender tentacles of baby octopus nestled in a tangle of noodles tossed with a dressing that was pleasantly acidic with an undertone of that ubiquitous condiment, nom pla. To say that the dish was amazingly well balanced was an understatement.

Had the earth shifted? This was it- we had caught the dragon. We stared at each other in disbelief….How could it be that it was only two days into our trip and we had already been transported to the heights of foodie heaven? I marveled at how such a humble spot could produce something so revelatory. I was in awe…

We walked out a bit weak-kneed, unsure if we wanted to proceed to our originally planned destination. It seemed almost criminal to immediately go off to eat somewhere else- kind of like jumping out of bed after an amazing roll in the hay without so much as a lingering cuddle…but press on, we did… losing ourselves in the side streets, then finding ourselves again. Slowly closing in on Victory Monument and the promise of boat noodles.

On our way we encountered a woman making small crispy crepes topped with meringue and foi tong (candied egg yolk). We could not say ‘no’ to a bag of the still warm khanom buang… it was with complete dedication that we gave ourselves over to the task of eating our way across town! From her stand it was only a hop, a skip, and a jump through a tiny clothing market to the opening of a long, narrow restaurant. We knew we had arrived by the welcoming sight of dozens of small, yellow bowls stacked around a large pot of broth.

 

The restaurant was bursting at the seams, nicely air conditioned and vibrantly alive with the clink, clatter and occasional smashing of little bowls. We squeezed ourselves into a nearby table and ordered two bowls of beef boat noodles (called kuai tiao ruea).  Our waiter gave us a slightly confused look and hustled away to tend to another table, returning just moments later with our food. Each bowl contained a tiny serving of noodles in a very rich, dark broth accompanied by a succulent bite sized meatball and a spattering of fresh greens. It was gone in seconds. I wanted more, but refrained.

I was balancing precariously on that edge between pleasure and pain. As the day had been perfectly tasty, I didn’t want to push the envelope. We looked around and had to laugh at ourselves- every other table in the joint was piled high with stacks of boat noodle bowls. On a few I counted over a dozen…and more than one boasted a leaning tower of empties. No wonder the waiter was confused when we only ordered one serving each! At only 12 baht a bowl, it was a dangerously easy place to indulge… indeed, there was something to that broth and the slurpy little noodles that was highly addictive…

With our stomachs full and the sun casting longer and longer shadows over the city, we gathered our luggage from the hotel and made our way to the train station for our overnight trip to Chiang Mai. Our trip would get better, but no food would match our first few days in Thailand.

Take me back to Bangkok! I’m not done eating!

Where we ate:
(click links for maps)

Captain Squid

Som Tum

‘The Magic Meal’

PA Yak Boat Noodles

---