by Peggy Markel
A woman soaks shark fins to place between bamboo mats. She can sell them to restaurants at $25 a pop. She wouldn’t if she knew better. A coconut shredder shreds coconuts continuously. The first press offers cream, the second press, milk. No green curry worth its ‘milk’ would be made with anything other than fresh. The next stand is heaped with unidentifiable greens. Many are from the basil family, holy and hairy. They are bunched up near their root companions, ginger, galangal, lemongrass and shallot. Flat baskets of chilis add spice to the view, while kafir limes and leaves give you a clue. Where am I?
An outdoor market in Thailand. With tasty ingredients like these, I can see why they call it the ‘land of smiles.’
There are five components to a dish; sweet, sour, salty, pungent (spicy), and bitter. They say if you eat all five in the same meal, your organs will be balanced and your senses too. Asian flavors zing and play merrily on the palate. They compliment each other well. What grows together goes together, and the list is long. Seemingly complex flavors come from very few ingredients. It’s quick and dirty–or rather, clean. Most dishes come together in a matter of minutes. Chopping and pounding are the real time consuming tasks here.
Arriving in Thailand was like being launched into sudden summer; the cooler season was lost somewhere over the international dateline. I found it straightaway in Bangkok in a refreshing spicy soup; Tom Yam Goong, with shrimp, lemongrass, ginger and kafir lime. Sour is the taste of spring in Thailand and deliciously medicinal. I loved exploring the cuisine from the base of fresh ingredients first, not from the familiar dishes themselves. The key players quickly made themselves known. Numero uno: Lemongrass.
Whether finely chopped or left in pieces, lemongrass is king. It marinates fish, flavors broths, and it’s the backbone of green curry. The long grassy leaves are a stomach tonic and can make a pleasurable tea. Dress it up with honey or a little sugar syrup, it becomes a sophisticated beverage to sip in the day. Add vodka and lime juice and call it ‘Thai Noon’at night. A thick layered stalk, lemongrass grows long and tall. The word alone conjures the sensation of a soft breeze from the Orient.
I found the mixture of lemongrass, ginger or galangal, shallot and chili to be the “mirepoix” of Thai cuisine. These base notes form the body of a dish, just like the holy trinity of carrot, onion and celery.
Fish sauce (a slow sun-baked elixir that drips from dried anchovies) is used for salt (make sure it’s at least 60%), and balances lime juice and stock (chicken or fish) which gives all those flavors a home. A touch of palm sugar balances certain dishes with a deep note that doesn’t say ‘sweet’. It says ‘peace’~ lets get together and create harmony. It can also mellow an over-the-top spiciness, so that the chili doesn’t dominate, but delights. Coriander root, seeds, and leaves, scallions, garlic, mint and tamarind take the dishes in various directions. It all makes sense once you start cooking, kind of like life.
Noodle pots are common on the street. It is often the cheapest and healthiest way to eat. Thai people will use chopsticks with noodles but prefer the fork and spoon for rice and accompanying dishes. Rice is a long discourse. But for the most part, they eat more glutinous ‘sticky’ rice in the north, and black, red, white, and mostly steamed white in the south. Older rice is preferable over new as they feel it has more flavor and depth.
Various forms of eggplant play an important role. The tiny pea eggplant cute, crunchy and bitter is used most often in a green curry with chicken. Ping pong eggplant, quick to cook, is sliced and added to various dishes and soups.
Thai basil, hot basil, and sweet basil are hardly anything like the basil we know and love, but it is a superhero in its own right. Pea vines and morning glory vines are actually a delicacy, sautéed with garlic and oyster sauce.
These rather exotic flavors reflect an exotic land. Thailand was never colonized and has the longest ruling Monarch. King Bhumibol Adulyadej (Rama IX) has ruled Thailand in a democracy since 1946. He is now 83 years old. The Royal family is well-loved and highly-respected. Worries abound that his passing could be the death of democracy in Thailand.
The elephant is the symbol of Thailand and a sign of strength and good luck (when the trunk is turned up). Elephant symbols are everywhere, which didn’t surprise me, but when I sat down for a three dollar foot massage one evening on the streets of Chang Mai, I didn’t expect to see one’s snout sniffing around me catching me unaware. A ‘mahout’ (elephant trainer) who had been quietly walking behind me (is there an elephant in the room?) shoved sugar cane into my hand. ‘Feed my elephant, feed my elephant, she’s hungry!’
I fed the very agile and nibbly snout a midnight snack, to which she promptly pooed and peed large amounts right in front of the ‘Heaven Hut’. Fifty cents went his way and I had a special moment right there, eye-to-eye with the elephant on the street and so did she. I considered it a good omen.
A longboat trip up the Mekong the next day took us to Chang Rai to a jungle retreat, complete with an elephant camp. We were able to spend more time with elephants and their babies, feeding the mothers green bananas. I learned that the previous evening’s entertainment was actually a common problem. Now that the logging industry has banned the use of elephants, mahouts are desperate to keep their elephants fed and working, so they hit the streets. At the Elephant Camp, they are developing a program where mahouts can actually come and be with their elephants instead of selling them to invest in more; thus, keeping mahouts and elephants off the street. I had no idea I was supporting abuse. I was appreciative of the lesson and now plan to donate in honor of their well-being.
Thailand has changed radically from my first visit twenty years ago. Old Bangkok is hidden amongst the lower level high rises, and the night bazaars are full of cheap nothings. I no longer saw street carts of deep fried beetles and tarantula. A tuk tuk (three wheeled motorcyle taxi) is more expensive than a taxi, and a night’s stay in a good hotel could seriously dip into a college fund. The floating market, one of Bangkok’s best, is more like a floating 7-11. People in the outlying areas seem to be more interested in goods, rather than fresh food. I made an assumption that this had to do with the addition of unsightly satellite dishes.
However, one tradition remains firm and that is giving alms. Up at dawn one morning in Luang Probang, in the neighboring country of Laos, a group of us gathered our sticky rice baskets and waited for the monks to proceed. The longest practicing monk is first in his monastery, not the eldest, and at the bottom of this hierarchy is the novice. Silently they approach in single file, their alms buckets slung across their shoulders. There are no words, only the sound of the lid as it slides off the bucket, as they go one by one, making room for a pinch of rice. The long road lined with devoted alms givers, fills their buckets. They do not grasp, they do not beg. The act of kindness and the opportunity to offer a gesture of generosity fills my own soul as the saffron procession fades into the distance.
In an ever-changing world, finding what still remains to be true is getting more difficult. Going straight to the market is the best place to start. A nation’s identity often lies in the gut of its people. Climate and location dictates what will grow in their soil, and the people choose what to harvest, cook, and eat.
Protecting a culture from losing its traditions is the very solution to a sustainable future, for them–and for us. Sticking with our true nature, one of kindness and generosity, and living with what comes naturally, will keep us in the flow of nature. Respecting simple ways and values will give us tools for living in a modern world and strength to face the changes.
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About Peggy Markel
Peggy Markel is the Owner and Operator of Peggy Markel’s Culinary Adventures. In 1993, she started The Ligurian School of Poetic Cooking (1993–2000), with Angelo Cabani, master chef and proprietor of Locanda Miranda in Tellaro, a small village on the Italian Riviera. For the past 17 years Peggy has traversed the Mediterranean and North Africa, from Elban fishing villages and Moroccan markets to the homes of Tuscan artisans and chefs, furthering her own exploration of culture and cuisine. “For me, a connection to real food is a connection to life.” Peggy’s journeys help people explore the cuisines of Tuscany, Sicily, Morocco, Almafi, and India.
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