Lovable Luang Prabang Laos

I have to admit, the best eats in Southeast Asia, in my opinion, are not found in Laos. However, just because the food is not the best doesn't mean that I didn't love the city that UNESCO declared as a World Heritage Site. The luscious green mountains of the jungle surrounded by the brown flowing waters of the Mekong River engulf the tiny strip of Buddhist spirituality. The chanting of monks can be heard in the early morning and early evening while strolling down the main street dotted with simple Bed and Breakfasts and trendy Boutique Hotels.

After the hustle bustle of Thailand and before the all out craziness of Vietnam, Luang Prabang was a quiet retreat of solitude for Carl and me. The pace of life is pleasantly slow, and the locals seem to walk through the streets without a care in the world. There is no shortage of tourists , but there is no chaos or stress in the site seeing as the real charm of the city is simply being there.

Like the rest of Southeast Asia, I was expecting curries and noodles, soups filled with prawns and squid, and more noodles! I was in a for a bit of a surprise when I found out that their diet is much heartier than that of Thailand, Vietnam or even Cambodia, consisting of sausages, buffalo meat, and stews called "Orlam". Of course, like the rest of Asia, they rely heavily in rice to help artificially fill their bellies during every meal. Rice is the heartbeat of Asia.

During our first evening in Luang Prabang, we found a fabulous restaurant overlooking the main street, and we ordered the two most common typical Lao dishes- Orlam Stew and Buffalo Sausage. As a girl from Texas, I'm used to a greasy sausage with a nice snap accompanying each bite. In Laos, the sausages are completely different. They are tough upon first bite, and the insides lack all remnants of grease, leaving one with a mouthful of gritty shreds of Buffalo meat. The sausage was too tough and dry for my taste, and after finishing one, I chose to leave room in my stomach for the Orlam.

The Orlam was, sadly, disappointing as well. I'm a girl who absolutely loves soups and stews. I've experimented with stews and soups in my slow cooker more times than I'd care to mention, sometimes leaving Carl to finish off a pound and a half of mediocre to inedible concoctions. Needless to say, my excitement about a hearty stew in the middle of Southeast Asia was pretty high! My elation deflated like a popped balloon upon tasting the Orlam, which was predominately overpowered by a strong black licorice flavor (which I found out later is due to the use of a "Holy Basil" plant, which is a key ingredient in many traditional Lao dishes). The one delectable aspect of the stew was the use of elephant ear mushrooms. They are a dark brown mushroom more closely resembling the size and shape of a human ear, but referred to as "elephant ear" mushrooms. I happen to love mushrooms, so the use of this particular mushroom in the dish was quite a treat for me! Otherwise, there appeared to be very little about this dish to rave about. Later in our trip, we participated in a Lao cooking class and learned how to make Orlam, so I'm quite positive that all Orlam is prepared similarly, as both of my attempts at the local favorite tasted equally as disappointing.

There were two traditional dishes that I did thoroughly enjoy! Their green eggplant dip and their traditional Riverweed. We sampled the eggplant dip at two restaurants prior to learning how to make it ourselves at our Lao cooking class. It's a simple concoction, consisting mainly of green eggplant, chilies, and garlic. Each ingredient is seared by an open fire to quickly cook the vegetables and give them a mushier consistency. After they are thoroughly fired, they are all thrown into a mortar and pestle, and ground up to resemble a typical MIddle Eastern Eggplant dip. They look the same, but they taste quite different! Lao eggplant dip has a touch of fire after the initial garlicy goodness. The most surprising part of the eggplant dip is how it's eaten. Accompanied with a bowl of sticky rice, one grabs small balls of sticky rice and dunks them into the eggplant dip, then pops the little ball of rice covered in green eggplant dip into the mouth! It's a snack that's as fun to eat as it is delicious!

Strange as it sounds, the Riverweed was also delicious. Imagine dried strips of seaweed salted and topped with peanuts, and you've got Lao Riverweed. I liked to call it Laos' version of chips and salsa. The Riverweed is dipped into a sweet chili sauce, and eating it brought me right back to any given Tex-Mex restaurant in Texas! Albeit, the Lao Riverweed is hands down a healthier alternative to chips and salsa any day!


Eating the Eggplant Dip at Dyen Sabai in Luang Prabang, Laos


Traditional Lao Riverweed

Supermarkets and Grocery stores are for pansies

A true foodie cannot travel to Southeast Asia without seeing how the local people shop for their food. We visited markets in almost all of the major cities we visited along the way, and each market evokes different sensory experiences. We've all seen travel shows and food shows highlighting the bizarre and obscure foods found in the markets, but what we often don't see or even think to understand is the sheer resourcefulness of the local people. In America, consumers are so far removed from the actual source of our food, typically selecting food goods that have been so processed and removed from their natural state that something as simple as a chicken breast can taste entirely different than a chicken breast in, say, Laos. Don't get me wrong, my track record of food bourne illness at home is a pretty good one, and I'm quite happy to get a nice Tyson chicken breast or a USDA prime rated steak, but seeing the way developing countries eat and shop for food brings me back down to foodie reality.

The first thing that I, as an American, recognize every time I enter a local market, is the sheer amount of food that I can't help but consider to be foreign and strange. A typical example of some fine protein in Laos is pig fetus or congealed blood. In Vietnam, they believe eating a pig penis will help a man's libido. If a family member has recently suffered a heart attack, the Vietnamese will prepare a lovely pig's heart which they believe helps the heart to heal. In Thailand, they will mark their eggs with anumber. The number depicts how mature the chick inside the egg is. It is common for them to eat eggs that are days away from hatching-talk about feathers in your eggs! The people in this region of the world are farmers and gatherers and to them, every meal is precious. It is a disgrace to let any part of a slaughtered animal go to waste, including snouts, ears, testicles, and even the blood. If I were to walk into Tom Thumb or Whole Foods and request a buffalo fetus with a side of pig snout, I think they may call for security! It's a sad shame for us to be so entirely wasteful when there are parts of animals that could be sold cheaply to hungry Americans.

Southeast Asians are not only resourceful when it comes to animal products. The selection of fresh herbs and fruits is unbelievable. Exotic fruits such as the pink skinned dragon fruit, custard apples, rambutan, and the ever popular Durian fruit (which I find to smell like tar, but after six weeks traveling in Asia have gotten more accustomed to the stench) are bursting at the seems of every fruit stall in the markets! Similar to the meat, their resourcefulness when it comes to herbs is equally admirable. Things that I avoid while cooking, such as the skin of garlic or the leaves from the limes, are common ingredients in completing the final touches of a perfect traditional dish. I have fallen in love with so many dishes here and I know that my attempts to recreate them at home will be both costly and difficult as the herbs and fresh ingredients will be extremely hard to come across.

I couldn't complete this post Without mentioning the most fabulous part of these markets-the seafood. Between the Mekong, the Irewaddy, the Andaman Sea, etc the Southeast Asian countries we visited rely on bodies of water as their lifeline which results in the most spectacular showing of fresh seafood I have ever seen. It is not uncommon to see women waking up at four in the morning to go select their fish for the day while it's still swimming, and watch the stall operator clean and filet the fish in front of them. Lobsters, crabs, prawns, eels, and even frogs abound! It makes the seafood case at Whole Foods look like the amateur show. My selection of farm raised, previously frozen salmon is such a bore in comparison. Granted, the Vietnamese people's love for fish of all stages, fresh, fermented, and in sauce, definitely singed my nose on more than one occasion.

Regardless of the unfamiliarity of some of the more bizarre foods I encountered in SE Asian food markets, I was constantly amazed at how well each culture knows their food. They have such an intimate relationship with the food selection process and their knowledge of how to prepare such a vast array of delectable dishes would make even Julia Child envious. For them, each meal is special. It is to be savored and enjoyed, and it is common to spend the entire day preparing dinner. The next time I come home from work tired and reach for an instant frozen dinner or a microwave pizza pocket, I will try to remind myself that cooking a lovely meal is not that difficult. If a farmer in Laos can prepare a decadent meal, why can't I!?


Our cooking instructor showing us the variety of fresh herbs and vegetables at the market in Luang Prabang, Laos.



Dried goods at a market in Yangon, Myanmar (better known to many Americans as Rangoon, Burma).



A selection of fruits in a fruit stand in Saigon, Vietnam

VIP meal in Bangkok

Several months before our trip to SE Asia, Carl and I watched every Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern episode filmed in SE Asia that we could catch on out DVR. On the "Bizarre Foods" episode filmed in Bangkok, Andrew Zimmern visits a remote restaurant hidden deep in the annals of Bangkok's Chinatown called Jok's kitchen. Zimmern mentioned how Jok's Kitchen is one of the hardest tables to get in town, with reservations often made months in advance. The restaurant has two tables, and the chef, Jok, speaks only Thai. He prepares for his patrons whatever dishes he feels like cooking up on any given day. Carl was determined to go to Jok's Kitchen, and I laughed at his aspirations knowing that two non Thai speaking Americans would likely not be able to secure two seats at this remote restaurant in faraway Bangkok. Much to both of our surprise, our hotel called the restaurant on a whim and was able to fit us in that evening! After sketching a hand drawn map, complete with instructions from the hotel in Thai, our taxi cab dropped us off as close the restaurant as he could, and we were greeted by a young gentleman who escorted us down several tiny alleyways leading to a small room with two large round tables. As soon as Carl and I were seated, the waitresses began bringing out the food.

The first dish we received was a plate of Gingko nuts. They were absolutely divine. Yellowish in color, they had a soft consistency with a semi-sweet flavor. They were each about the size of a small acorn and they were served with crispy onion strings that complimented the slight sweetness of the nut with an even balance. As we were ogling over the Gingko nuts, the waitress brought out a heaping portion of shrimp dumplings accompanied with dark vinegar. Luckily for us, a chipper English speaking Thai woman was dining at the second table with her family and was happy to help us decipher what each dish was, and how to properly eat each dish. She told us that we were meant to dip the dumplings in the vinegar. The vinegar was not strong in flavor and when the dumplings were dipped with the vinegar, the flavor danced on our tongues! In China we had several dumplings, and somehow Jok figured out how to make a dumpling like none other! Trying to save space for an unannounced number of entrees to follow was nearly impossible as each dumpling just whet my appetite for another! Luckily for me, the next dish was just as appetizing as the dumplings. The servers brought out huge chunks of a white fish which our Thai friend told us was called Snow fish. The fish was slightly firm in texture, but easily flaked off with the flick of a chopstick. It was apparent upon first bite that this fish was as fresh as could be and as Carl and I had never eaten this particular fish before it tasted as if Jok had experimented with it enough to know the absolute best way to prepare it. Following the Snow Fish was my favorite dish of the entire evening, crab! A rather healthy portion of crab meat was delivered to our table with two giant crab claws containing juicy white crabmeat that tasted as if it was swimming in the waters of Thailand that morning. Alongside the crabmeat was a unique sauce prepared specifically for the crabmeat. The sauce had more of a Mexican flavor to it rather than Chinese or Thai. The most dominant flavor in the dipping sauce was what tasted like a spicy fresh jalapeno married to fresh cilantro. Providing just enough heat, the sauce enhanced the freshness of the crabmeat without overpowering it. After the crab, the pace with which the food came out began to slow. We were brought a plate of Morning Glory, a green vegetable that I can best describe as resembling broccolini, as well as a heaping serving of duck fried rice- complete with slices of duck.

After the vegetables and rice, we watched the waitress bring a steaming bowl of soup out to the Thai family sitting at the other table and anxiously awaited our soup. After several minutes the soup never came, which prompted our outspoken Thai friend to proclaim that the soup has too many "strange" tastes and since we were American we would not like it so therefore they were ot bringing us any soup! Carl and I immediately knew this was something we had to try! It just wasn't a possibility to be left out of the soup experience so Carl told our friend to tell the waitress that we wanted soup! Sure enough, about ten minutes later a hot pot of soup was brought to our table. We didn't hesitate before digging in, and we were glad we got to sample it because it was divine! The soup was a ginger flavored broth with very little complexity. Besides the ginger flavored broth there was not much more to the soup other than some chicken and a few vegetables, but it was a perfect end note to a giant meal. The soup seemed to calm our full stomachs and leave us with even larger smiles on our faces.

Our Chinese meal in the heart of Bangkok at Jok's Kitchen was definitely a highlight of our trip. The complexity of his dishes and the intricate pairing of flavors was top notch, and we felt like VIP superstars sitting in the tiny restaurant tasting dishes made with intelligence and love. All for 30 US Dollars per person, it was an overall steal of a deal and the memory if sitting deep inside of Thailand's Chinatown in a two table restaurant will last forever!



The first course-Ginkgo Nuts



The Snow Fish


The best part of the meal- the crab!


A photo of us with the chef

My favorite Thai treat!

Much to my surprise, my absolute favorite Thai dish was not Pad Thai, although those delectable street noodles will forever hold a special place in my stomach. Rather, my favorite dish turned out to be the tantalizingly spicy Tom Yum Ga which roughly translates to "hot and sour chicken soup". When I say "hot and sour soup" I am not referring to the Americanized Chinese version of spicy soup but rather the magical concoction including lemongrass, golangal (a close relative to ginger), mouse shit chilis(as the Thais lovingly refer to them),chili paste, and chicken. Even in the humid summer heat of Bangkok, this spicy soup has a tangy edge that makes it oh so refreshing. The sweat dripping down my face due to the intense heat only heightens the slurping experience. With every sip, the first flavor to hit the taste buds is the lemongrass and golangal tang, followed by a mouth numbing spice that causes the lips to tingle, the tongue to burn, and the back of the throat to cry for more!

Let me clarify, Thai spicy is not like Mexican spicy or even Cajun spicy. The Thais seem to prefer the sort of spice that singes one's taste buds into oblivion, which means the spicy soups I consumed were probably about a two on the Thai spice scale, but a seven or an eight on the fabbie foodie spice scale! My absolute favorite Tom Yum Ga experience was at a small makeshift street restaurant down the street from our hotel. It was prepared in an outdoor "kitchen" that likely would never pass any American health inspection. However, due to the fact that soup must be thoroughly heated and boiled prior to consumption, this delicious soup seemed perfectly fine for my tummy to consume! I'll also admit that after the most delicious version of this soup on the street, I did indeed eat it again later that evening in the high end restaurant in Bangkok called Nahm just to see how the street version compared to the restaurant version. It was a close tie, but the Nahm version was so exceedingly spicy that I unfortunately could not taste it thoroughly. I now know that prior to any future Thai meal I eat, it will be tough to pass up an appetizer of this delicious Thai soup-I'll simply have to request it to be made "white girl spicy"!

After sweating it out during an afternoon of sightseeing, I decided to torture myself even more with this deliciously hot and spicy soup!


Just to make sure the soup was really the most delicious soup I've ever had, I ordered it again the same evening. Turns out it wasn't a fluke, this stuff is awesome!

A taste of Thailand

Before leaving for our trip to Southeast Asia I was, hands down, most excited about the food in Thailand. In Austin, one of my favorite spots has always been a hole in the wall eatery called "Thai Kitchen" where I was first introduced to the ever popular Pad Thai. However, as I got older and more brave in my foodie adventures, I began straying from the noodles and tasting other dishes.

I can honestly say that from the moment we stepped into Thailand, the food did not disappoint! Tasty morsels and seducing smells can be found in every nook and cranny of the Thai capital of Bangkok. The most common eateries are the hundreds, if not thousands, of food stalls located throughout every neighborhood of the city. Unlike the street food in Myanmar and Beijing, the food stalls along the streets of Bangkok seemed less intimidating, and somehow safer for us white folks from the west to stomach. Between shopping and sightseeing in Bangkok, Carl and I sampled tons of street food, sophisticated restaurant food, and a few things in between. The next few posts are dedicated to some of our favorite finds in Bangkok and the rest of Thailand.

Chowing down in China

Beijing had some delectable eats. Here are some photographs of our culinary journey through the capital city of China. The two highlights of our trip were the Peking Duck and the traditional Chinese style hotpot. We were treated to a wonderful evening out by our friend Haowei in Beijing at the upscale and famous Da Dong duck restaurant just off of second ring road in Beijing. I had never had authentic Peking Duck and was unfamiliar with the process. The duck is cooked in a special broth which is saved and served alongside the meal as a soup. Similar to an American moo shoo pancake, the pieces of duck are eaten in smaller pancakes. Alongside the pancakes are condiments to be wrapped with the duck including onion strings and lettuce as well as a sweet Hoisin sauce. The waiter delivers the entire duck to the table and artfully carves the cooked duck in front of the patrons. The most surprising part of the meal was the duck skin. It is common to dip the skin in large grains of sugar and pop it in the mouth. The skin is like cotton candy- once it's in the mouth, it just melts. The savory skin and the sweet sugar make for a sumptuous treat.

The hotpot experience was a mixture of great fun and lovely food. Carl and I were still a bit nervous about our bellies in Beijing so we chose a more upscale hotpot restaurant called Din Din Xiang, or Hot Pot Paradise. We were overwhelmed with the huge menu, and had to first figure out how the proccess worked before making ourselves comfortable. The Hot Pot is all about a steaming hot broth served over a lit fire which is used to cook finely cut slices of meat. First, we selected a mushroom broth to serve as the cooking medium as well as the soup base. Then, we selected sliced Mutton and sliced Sirloin. The server dropped two hot pots in front of us, lit the fire under the pot, and pored the broth. As the broth just began to bubble he laid down the two platters of meat alongside vegetables and mushrooms which we added to the soup broth. Gently, so as not to splash ourselves with boiling broth, we picked up the slices of meat with our chopsticks and dropped them into the soup. The meat is sliced so thinly that it cooks in seconds. The sirloin was tender and flavorful but the mutton was a bit tougher and more gamey. I think it had too stroing of a game flavor for my taste, I preferred the sirloin!