Khaow Soi, Jeow and Lao Lao
Sunday, January 10, 2010
We've only been in Southeast Asia for 12 days and already we've mastered the national cuisines of Thailand and Laos. Or at least, two very able chefs have attempted to teach this pair of falangs (foreigners) to cook them, with mixed success. In Chiang Mai, northern Thailand, we whipped up and ate not one but seven dishes each, and learned the 1,2,3 mantra that is apparently key to most of that country's fare. One teaspoon of sugar, two of fish sauce and three of oyster sauce goes in more or less everything. And lots and lots of oil.
Lao food is less determined to send your blood pressure rocketing, although they're still very fond of their salt. The most distinctive dish we've encountered so far is jeow, a chilli-based paste that is scooped up by hand using balls of sticky rice. It seems near-ubiquitous: so much so that on day two of our recent trek through the forests and hill tribe villages of Luang Nam Tha, our guide got up early to make jeow from scratch for our lunch, including smoking aubergines on the campfire. We can now make aubergine jeow ourselves, courtesy of Joy, our cooking teacher in Luang Prabang. Although it's not quite as memorable when not eaten off a banana leaf under the trees, as on the trek, our efforts weren't bad. More successful than our attempts to stuff lemongrass with chopped chicken, which looked particularly unappealing. In our defence though, who stuffs lemongrass?! And it tasted great, despite appearances.
Meanwhile, in the unlikely event that we get bored of local fare, the French have left behind a useful souvenir from their days as overlords of Indochina: baguettes, croissants and crepes on every street corner. All in all, it's been a gastronomic start to 2010, washed down by beers Chang and Lao in Thailand and Laos respectively. More deadly, in the latter, is the rice whisky they call Lao Lao. Despite Rhod's ill-founded chat about rice-based alcohol not giving you hangovers, we both knew that we'd drunk a good deal of it the night before as we sat through a nine hour bus ride the other day. Lao Lao is one gastro adventure I'm gonna try not to repeat.
Lao food is less determined to send your blood pressure rocketing, although they're still very fond of their salt. The most distinctive dish we've encountered so far is jeow, a chilli-based paste that is scooped up by hand using balls of sticky rice. It seems near-ubiquitous: so much so that on day two of our recent trek through the forests and hill tribe villages of Luang Nam Tha, our guide got up early to make jeow from scratch for our lunch, including smoking aubergines on the campfire. We can now make aubergine jeow ourselves, courtesy of Joy, our cooking teacher in Luang Prabang. Although it's not quite as memorable when not eaten off a banana leaf under the trees, as on the trek, our efforts weren't bad. More successful than our attempts to stuff lemongrass with chopped chicken, which looked particularly unappealing. In our defence though, who stuffs lemongrass?! And it tasted great, despite appearances.
Meanwhile, in the unlikely event that we get bored of local fare, the French have left behind a useful souvenir from their days as overlords of Indochina: baguettes, croissants and crepes on every street corner. All in all, it's been a gastronomic start to 2010, washed down by beers Chang and Lao in Thailand and Laos respectively. More deadly, in the latter, is the rice whisky they call Lao Lao. Despite Rhod's ill-founded chat about rice-based alcohol not giving you hangovers, we both knew that we'd drunk a good deal of it the night before as we sat through a nine hour bus ride the other day. Lao Lao is one gastro adventure I'm gonna try not to repeat.
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