Jaew bong: a mother’s burning love for her sons

JAEW bong (แจ่วบอง), the spicy chilli dip of Northeastern Thailand, is the best culinary representation of Mr. P’s mum’s love for her sons. A type of chilli relish in Thailand, jaew bong is what naam phrik num is to the northerners and naam phrik kapi is to the central Thais, and somewhat like what sambal is to the Malaysians, Singaporeans and Indonesians.

Whenever Mr. P is back home, his mum never tires in whipping up her son’s favourite dishes. Like maeng kork—it isn’t Mr. P’s favourite though but he had a sudden craving and the parents obliged—MIL whipped up her version of jaew bong during our recent visit back to Mr. P’s hometown in Udon Thani. When Mr P’s brother lived apart from the parents, he also requested for their mum’s jaew bong whenever he was home.

Plaa raa, the fermented fish—fragrant to some, pungent to others, but definitely intense—is a vital component. Chopped shallots, lemongrass, kaffir leaves and bird’s eye chillies were first roasted over a slow fire to release the fragrance and increase their brittleness before combining the mixture with minced plaa raa to be pounded in a mortar to create the paste, according to MIL’s recipe. Just as how naam phrik differs from region to region, the ingredients and steps of making jaew bong also vary from mother to mother.

On the morning we departed from Udon, MIL handed over her special concoction, reminding me at the same time to store the paste in the fridge. “It can last for several months,” she said.

Back in Bangkok, we assembled a raw vegetable set of cabbage, winged beans, string beans and cucumber, blanched bai tamlueng (ivy gourd leaves), together with sticky rice, to eat with jaew bong. The ideal way is to dip the greens into jaew bong, while interspersing the fiery flavours with knobs of sticky rice kneaded up from the woven bamboo basket. I especially liked the slight smoky flavour of the jaew bong, the result of grilling the ingredients over a slow fire.

And now whenever hunger pangs strike, Mr. P just have to reach into the fridge for doses of his mum’s love, all across the 500km of physical distance.

In Isaan, a bug hunting season begins

THE night was sweltering, the air exceptionally still and humid. Nary a thing moved, and neither the leaves nor wind. Sprawled on the bamboo swings outside the house, Mr. P and I each nursed a can of chilled beer, hoping the coolness would banish the hot spell. The heat was unbearable; I tore the cover from a magazine and started fanning myself with that piece of paper.

A couple of steps away, Yai Canton (or Grandma Canton, nicknamed by me because her father came from Guangdong province eons ago) had perched herself on a foldable chair under the lamppost. On the ground, she had placed a rice-cooker pot half filled with water. Palmy, her three-year-old granddaughter, and my eight-year-old niece, Pin, were busy trailing the maeng ii-nuun (แมงอีนูน; chokchafer beetle) that fluttered awkwardly around the fluorescent light beaming from the lamppost. Each time any of the girls caught a bug, they would squeal in delight and proceeded to place it in the pot.

I was curious as to why the pot was filled with water, but Pin, ever the inquisitive one, beat me to it. “Yai, why did you fill the pot with water?” she enquired.

“If I don’t put water inside, the beetles will escape and fly off after you put them into the pot.” Why didn’t yours truly think of that before, I thought to myself, the silly urban dweller that I am.

Yai Canton was catching these bugs to eat them. Insects are commonly eaten throughout Thailand, but it is a culinary preference most symbolic among the Isaan people. Insects might once be an additional source of protein, but it’s now more commonly eaten as a snack among the Isaan natives, according to Mr. P. When his mum asked if he missed any food, he replied maeng kork (แมงกอก; I haven’t found the English name and would appreciate any information on this) and a big plate of these deep-fried beetles (pictured above) surfaced the following day.

Sweat trickling down our backs, we continued to sit on the bamboo swings. A motorbike with two riders zipped past us. One of the them donned a head torchlight while the other was clutching an empty bottle. They sped into the darkness, where the sugar cane fields lie.

Then an engine hummed and a pick-up turned into the lane. It was Det, Mr. P’s brother. After parking the vehicle, he joined us at the little bamboo hut outside the house. He exclaimed, “I saw so many lights among the field as I drove in. It’s like a festival out there.”

Moments later, Tom, a childhood friend and neighbour of of Mr. P, rode past us on his motorbike. Mr. P shouted after him in the Isaan dialect, “Where are you going, Tom?” “To catch maeng kork!” he replied, with a bottle clutched in one hand and the other controlling the motorbike handlebar.

Then another motorbike crossed the road. And another. All of them rumbled down the lane leading into the fields, away from the houses in the village.

Yet another motorbike sounded, but this time toward us. It was Apple (pronounced Ap-pern), another of Mr. P’s childhood friends. After a day of work manning his mini mart, he dropped by to chat with Mr. P. He swung himself off the motorbike and seated himself beneath the bamboo hut.

Observing the continual string of motorcycles advancing into the darkness, Apple remarked, “Maeng kork can only be caught during these few days only, just before the rainy season begins. This is the time when the maeng kork go in search of spots to lay their eggs.”

Like Yai Canton, these villagers had caught the insect-hunting bug (no pun intended) that particular night, and everyone was using their own means and ways to ensure a meal of beetles.

Soon after, Tom was back.

“How was your catch?” Mr. P asked.

“Just a few only. There were as many humans as there were bugs in the field!”

Everyone laughed. And the sultry night wore on.

Kuay tiao eats: phat sii iw (stir-fried noodles with dark soy sauce)

Phat sii iw (ผัดซีอิ๊ว)— which literally means ‘stir-fried soy sauce’—made a recent appearance in my kitchen when I decided to try my hands at cooking this common street food in Thailand. Phat sii iw is a Chinese-influenced stir-fried dish that is similar to char kway teow in Singapore and Malaysia. Well, its name in Thai already alludes to its Chinese provenance.

Like any stir-fried dish, phat sii iw needs one vital component—a wok on high heat—to give it that distinctive wok smell, better known as wok hei in Cantonese or wo qi (镬气) in Chinese. There were many times when Mr. P and I wondered why we couldn’t whip up a favourite restaurant dish at home with similar results, and the explanation we came up with, apart from our lesser culinary skills, was the lack of a highly heated wok—think seasoned woks with high flames in zi char stalls in Singapore and any Chinese kitchen around the world. But alas, most home cooks like me will find it hard to recreate wok hei with just an electric stove, hence I’m craving for a gas stove in the near future where I’ll have better control of the cooking fire.

In Thailand, noodles are simply referred to as kuay tiao with specific names for the different types, such as sen yai, sen lei, ba mii and wun sen. So in this case, what is known as guo tiao/kway teow in Singapore is called sen yai (wide flat rice noodles) in Thailand, which means ‘big strips’ in Thai. I will usually cut the noodles into shorter strands first before cooking, otherwise it will be quite hard to stir-fry them around in my pan.

To make phat sii iw, kale is a vital ingredient. Kale is very popular in Thailand and is easily available in fresh markets and supermarkets. To complete the phat sii iw picture, other vital ingredients are dark soy sauce (sii iw dam), fish sauce and thinly sliced meat/seafood while eggs are optional. Below is an overview of the ingredients I used.

Into a pan on high heat, add chopped garlic followed by sliced pork, stirring them around until the meat turn from pink to pale brown. Add the noodles, followed by fish sauce, oyster sauce and dark soya sauce to taste; by then the mixture will turn into a medium brown. Finally add the kale, stir-frying the entire mixture around until the leaves are slightly wilted.

Transfer the noodles onto a serving plate. Sprinkle some ground chilli powder and sliced chillies on top, and add a dash of white pepper if you like. Serve!

An addictive salad: khaao yam and naam buuduu

Khaao yam (ข้าวยำ) and naam buuduu (น้ำบูดู), now where should I begin? It goes back to 2008, when a Thai colleague mentioned in passing that khaao yam, a Southern Thai rice salad, was her favourite Thai food. At that time I had just started living in Thailand and I was beginning to taste my way around Bangkok and Thailand. I didn’t manage to try the dish then, but the name stuck in my head.

Stir-fried pork with holy basil

My introduction to phat kaphrao (ผัดกะเพรา; stir-fried holy basil) goes back to the mid 2000s when I was just beginning my love affair with Thailand. Sharing a meal with Fye, a fellow Singaporean friend who’s a real Thai nut, in Chiang Mai one day, he said: “Phat kaphrao is a no-brainer dish. It’s something that Thais would order when they have no idea what they want to eat.” I’ve heeded his advice since then, often opting for the ubiquitous phat kaphrao at raan aahaan taam sang (ร้านอาหารตามสั่ง; cook-to-order restaurants) if I’m undecided what I want, although fried rice comes in a close second.

Mad about shrooms: Thai mushroom salad

Mr. P and I adore mushrooms in all shapes and sizes, from portobellos (expensive in this region) to enoki (goodle needle mushrooms) to Narcissus canned mushrooms and anything in between. It’s the only food that we perennially stock up at home because any mushroom gets eaten as quickly as it pops up in our fridge.

Heavenly food gifts

Hello! Sorry for the lack of updates on this space for the past few months. It’s been a hectic few months for me, having gone on several overseas work trips and moving countries (again), so whatever free time I have I prefer to spend it away from the computer with my family. But despite the inactivity here, I’m still eating lots of good food and I’ve been on the receiving end of several lovely food gifts!

I finally met with Shan, who was back in Singapore on a break from her postdoctoral studies in Scotland. We were secondary school classmates and haven’t seen each other for the past decade, so I was quite excited to catch up with her and another ex-classmate RJ for coffee one Saturday afternoon. Shan gave both of us a bag of her three favourite tea leaves from teapigs as a souvenir (how thoughtful of her!) and shared with us her study life and culinary inspiration in betwen frolicking among sheep and kilt-wearing men dashing in and out of her research lab. As for me, I went to meet her empty-handed…

Thai pineapple and mussel curry (แกงคั่วสับปะรดหอยแมลงภู่)

“The only time pineapples are acceptable in Thai food is in pineapple mussel curry (แกงคั่วสับปะรดหอยแมลงภู่; kaeng sapparot hoi malaeng phuu) or sweet and sour dish (ผัดเปรี้ยวหวาน; phat priaow waan),” said Mr. P insisted, who is adamant that fried rice and pineapples are a mismatch. “Pineapple fried rice are only seen on menus in MBK and places with lots of tourists. Have you seen your Thai gal friends ordering this dish before?”

Comfort food: Khai Jiao

Omelettes are comfort food the world over, and it’s amazing how many guises and varieties the humble omelette comes in. My mum loves to fry eggs with French beans, chai por (preserved radish) or onions, while Mr. P loves his khai jiao (Thai-style omelette) to bits. It’s a simple dish, no doubt, but it’s one of those dishes that few people can cook well and deliver with aplomb.

Salivating over naam tok muu

Mr. P and I were inspired to make naam tok because a similar dish we had at a supposedly authentic Thai restaurant in Singapore left us disappointed. The taste was flat and tailored to meet the local palate. And Mr. P, being the real Isaan boy that he is, doesn’t like it that we have to fork out more baht for something that don’t capture the correct flavours. The only way out, we reckon, is to make our own Thai dishes since most ingredients required for Thai cooking are rather easily found in Singapore.