A dangerous dream

Thailand has never been on my list of places to visit. I usually gravitate toward countries with fabulous art museums that are easy (for me at least) to get around: France, Austria, Germany, Spain... And many years ago I read Alex Garland's book The Beach which made Thailand sound like a backpacker-infested spring break destination.

Also, I don't really like Thai food. (Gasps of horror!) That's right. I don't really like Thai food.

BUT...

Last week in Thailand I ate some of the best food I've ever tasted in my life: mango with sticky rice at Ban Khun Mae in Bangkok.

BKM is one of those restaurants that has worked out classic recipes to a science. They have little stations right at the door where you can see them preparing signature dishes. A bit like the street vendor carts you see nestled on every available square of sidewalk all over Bangkok. It's a touristy setup, but it's also very effective at selling the dishes.

Whoever is running the mango and sticky rice station is worth their weight in gold. There was a large pile of mangoes in the window, and it was as if someone was perfectly psychically attuned to their ripening. As if at the instant I ordered it, they plucked the fruit that was about to reach its zenith of sweetness and quickly dispatched it with a machete. Then, with a judicious eye they put the perfect amount of warm (not hot), sticky, slightly sweet, slightly salty, coconut-creamy friggin heaven next to it.

The mango tasted like nectar of the gods. I am not exagerrating. It had that perfect bell-like sweetness. Bing...ing...ing. Wow. With just a hint of tartness to keep things interesting. Meanwhile the texture was exactly at the cusp of firm and custardy. Oh my God. One bite of this heaven combined with the warm, salty-sweet, chewy goodness of the rice.

I was in rapture. Really. It was kind of embarrassing.

It undoubtedly helped that I was in a good mood after napping on an enormous rattan couch in the 77 degrees F weather and gentle breeze by the black infinity pool on the ninth floor of our hotel.

And it undoubtedly helped that we were chilled out about the $150/night including tax and breakfast that we were paying for our five-star one bedroom suite in the heart of Bangkok during high season.



Oh, wait, wait, wait...maybe it was because I was so delighted by all of the beautiful fresh flowers I had seen all over the city. Especially the gorgeous tribute crafted entirely from flowers that I saw at the Wat Arun temple.

I am certain that it was also because I was moved every time someone "wai-ed" me. It never seemed like an off-hand gesture. It always felt like a sincere show of respect and goodwill. It was like balm after months of..ahem...abruptness from people in Hong Kong.

Oh, and did you know that top quality health care in Thailand costs less than half (sometimes a quarter) what it does in the U.S.?



Obviously, I could go on and on about Thailand's charms.

So why not pick up and move there...like right now?

The traffic. Actually, "traffic" doesn't cover it at all. I won't go into it, but suffice it to say that getting anywhere takes much, much longer than you ever imagined and arriving at your intended destination is not always guaranteed or worth the effort.

Then there are the *other* expats who flock to Thailand for the incredibly cheap vacations, food, and uh...ladies? I think that this guy is representative of some of the best of the West that you'll find in Thailand.

There is an interesting, and apparently common, problem with moving to Thailand. Expats of the right persuasion think they're going to drop out and spend a few years living in paradise on $4,000 (as two English kids E met traveling had done). But once you're in Thailand, blissing out, doing nothing, spending all your money...if you ever want to come back...well, you haven't done anything professionally and you don't have any money.

A very astute blog, Stickman Bangkok, says:

You really do need to try and keep busy while in Bangkok. With the Thai's relaxed attitudes towards most things, the cheap costs and especially the heat, it's just so easy to fall into a very relaxed lifestyle where you are actually doing very little. It is very easy to fall into the trap of spending your days in a relaxing, stress free manner but really, you are both doing and achieving nothing. I know some people who have gone to Thailand with plenty of money, have fallen into a sedentary lifestyle, have hit the bottle, put on weight and blown a lot of money. Most of them have gone on to regret the experience. All over Asia, but especially in Thailand, Westerners end up here because, if you have a bit of money, life is easy here. Be careful!

Wow, that's way too much wisdom to take in one bite.

Restaurant ethos, from SF to HK

Over an obscene coconut cream tart at Tartine, J-- (originally from Guangzhou) and I are contemplating the difference between food cultures in Hong Kong and SF...

"You know," she says, "I think the restaurants here care a lot more about the interior or the atmosphere."

Tartine, for example, is undoubtedly famous not only for being named the "the best pastry chefs or bakers in America," but also for hiding its fame behind an anonymous black paint job with no sign -- connoting for me, anyway, the badass vibe of a ghetto paint job on a muscle car. The result, of course, is that when you drive by Tartine for the first time and see a line snaking around this mysterious looking enterprise, you say to yourself, "What is that place? It must be good!"



Yeah, but...that whole no-sign-thing is old hat in NYC. I think there's something more going on in SF...

Later in the week I went with my friend C-- to an East German restaurant called Walzwerk. Why a German restaurant? C-- works for a German company, is of German descent, and loves German food, so... I had no idea what to expect since East German isn't exactly top of my mind when thinking of the world's finest cuisines. But actually, I was bewitched as soon as we stepped inside...

Each table had a single white candle sitting on a beautiful little cross section of tree trunk (or branch). The waitress lit the candle for us when we sat down, almost as if commencing a ritual. It was warm and homey, yet minimalist, which I found relaxing.



The food itself was presented with the same restrained hand. Take, for example, this apple strudel. There was ample food on the plate, but also ample white space, simplicity. I found this very creative... It's easy to fixate on the extremes in food presentation -- a gargantuan mound of Chili's ribs on the one hand and designer morsel in a porcelain wasteland at someplace like Robuchon on the other. But actually, there is so much room for creativity in between...



I also loved that they served my beef roulade with spätzle and red apple cabbage with a serrated knife tucked onto the plate. That one gesture created this feeling of pub-iness or hominess that was totally charming to me...



This is more than just interior design. It's deeper. I would go further than my friend J-- and say that Bay Area restaurants live or die by their ethos.

What do I mean? Well, I don't think you'd find a restaurant like Bar Agricole in a city other than SF. As my mom and I walked past the valet parking and through the subtley lit gates, we entered a courtyard with...vegetable beds? And wow, is that a flow form?



Flow forms are connected to biodynamic agriculture and Anthroposophy, a spiritual tradition I grew up with (kind of). Here, at this swanky restaurant?

Passing the flower beds, we walked into the "industrial chic" entryway and saw a mass of hipsters milling around a gigantic bar under undulating light fixtures...



In the midst of all this coolness was simple, really yummy, locally sourced food, like this chicory salad with hazlenuts and pecorino, which my mom thought looked like a hat ;-)



And then there was the Dungeness crab with farro... Hey, what's "farro"? The 20-something waiter pounced, ready to share all of the food history and philosophy stuffed inside him. "Farro is an ancient Egyptian grain..." he lectured my mother. Mind you, my mom uses words like "pusillanimous" in everyday conversation. Oh, and she probably knew more about biodynamic agriculture than he does now before he was ever born. Idiot. Anyway, we found out that farro is a grain, and the dish itself was fantastic!

So what was this thing Bar Agricole was doing, this contrived food-centered religiosity? I kind of liked it, but it was weird. I feel the same way about Cafe Gratitude, which is connected with Landmark Education. (They have a new Mexican restaurant called Gracias Madre that I'm dying to try, by the way.) I'm not sure what I think about these restaurants' core world views, but it certainly seems to result in intriguing environments, yummy food, and well-informed, if annoying, wait staff.

But, you know, later in the week I went with my dad to Genova Delicatessen in Oakland.

These freshly-minted, cultish enterprises in San Francisco, like Bar Agricole, Gratitude, or even Humphry Slocombe ice cream or Blue Bottle Coffee...all seem like slight-of-hand when compared with Genova.

Genova is its own universe. When we walked into Genova, people of all backgrounds were happily waiting in line. At some point, all of these people, the vast majority not Italian, discovered this place and realized how special it is. And we all love coming here. It's not just the food, it's the sense of order and tradition. But it's not some kind of hyped-up touristy calcified version of a traditional Italian deli. It's an unpretentious, totally solid business that has adapted comfortably to modern times and is now situated in a strip mall with a Walgreen's. Convenient.



At Genova, you don't fend off the evangelical employees. You wait patiently in line to be helped by one of the much revered counter guys wearing crisp white shirts and black ties. If you're really lucky, or unlucky, you'll get this guy...



You do not f-- around with this guy. Our family has been going to Genova for more than 30 years, and I always remember him being there. He is polite, of course, but one has the feeling that the conversation could go badly south at any minute. I don't know what exactly I think could happen, but it feels dangerous. Maybe a sudden and excrutiating loss of face? I dunno. But definitely don't be pretentious with this guy or you'll find yourself skittering out the door with your tail between your legs.

Anyway, he's nice to the ladies ;-) I wondered out loud what this thing (to the left of the sweet coppa) was, and he reached into the deli counter and gave me a slice...



Hmm. Fatty, slightly tart, hot, and the texture of fresh pasta dough. Kind of amazing. I think I'm much more attuned to texture now that I'm eating more Chinese food. And Genova really gets the thickness of its meats perfect. My grandma used to ask for the prosciutto so that she could see through it...

Well, anyway, many raviolis, sauce, artichoke torta, prosciutto, fontina, and panetone richer (and about $100 poorer), we stumbled out of the door with our big white bags and went home to enjoy the mellow yumminess of these flavors that really taste good on a bodily level. It's not "surprising" or "inventive," it's just good. It's food that lodges in ones mental tastebuds.

Is this really different from Hong Kong?

On the one hand, I'd say yes, absolutely. When it comes to non-Chinese food, in particular, the world is dominated by restaurant groups. A single group might own 15 or more restaurants, all with different cuisines. Dining Concepts, Ltd., for example, runs Olive (Mediterranean), Cecconi's (Italian), Craftsteak (American), Soho Spice (Thai), Bombay Dreams (Indian), and el Taco Loco (Mexican). Underlying all the different menus, of course, is one organizing ethos: approach to decor, music, staff choice, staff training, etc., are remarkably similar. Not only is the consistency of ethos across all of these restaurants tedious, but it can result in bizarrely incongruous experiences...

E-- and I doggedly decided to try this place called Union J., which Time Out Hong Kong billed as "New American Cooking," and gave 5/6 stars. What can I say? Sometimes we get homesick. Anyway, we were chewing away on our steak tartare when "American Woman" came on the sound system. American food served in an American environment with American music and even the word "American" in the songs all lines up so tightly and neatly, which, of course, is so totally un-American. It was like we were in a Chinese Disneyland of our own culture. Probably not unlike how anyone Chinese must feel when they eat at P.F. Chang's in the States.

Among Chinese restaurants in Hong Kong, I can only discern a handful of common formats. There are a bunch of very good chains like Wu Kong Shaghainese, Peking Garden, and Lei Garden, all of which produce yummy food, but the environments and staff seem virtually interchangeable. You've got the crazy busy reservationist/gate keeper, then the multi-tiered staff (food deliver-ers, order takers, and bill talliers), big round tables with fabric table cloths. There's some variation in tableware and whether or not you get a cloth napkin, but not much else.

On the other end of the spectrum, you've got noodle shops that also relentlessly follow the same format: roasted meat hanging in the window, boiling vat of water for noodles, single counter where you pay, plastic stools and tables. Bring your own napkins.

There are a few other formats in between.

I'm starting to find more independent restaurants that break from this mold and exhibit more of the personality of their owners and staff...

Fu Sing in Wan Chai -- First off, the clientele is a little different: I've seen chubby people here, which is unheard of in Hong Kong. It's got the upscale Chinese format, but there are also TVs going, which makes it feel a little bit like eating in someone's house. And what can I say, I love the staff at Fu Sing. Seems like they've all worked there for years and know each other well. They're not friendly, but if you're there to spend money they'll help you out. And of course, the food is a meat-lover's pleasure palace. Also, I think the lighting has some warmth to it.

Luk Yu in Central is kind of a tourist trap, but I like it anyway. It feels like an old-school mafia restaurant in NYC. Think beefy bouncer, dark wood, higher ceilings, wait staff in white jackets. The first floor is reserved for regulars, which unfortunately included a guy named Harry Lam Hon-lit, who was shot point-blank in the head while eating his breakfast there in 2002. Getting a table here is a complete crapshoot. It took me four phone calls, plus dressing up with my nice watch and some jewelry, walking in and cajoling the gatekeeper into giving us a table. They make some good Cantonese soups, like their famous almond and pork lung soup, which has delicate slivers of preserved tangerine peel in it. Yum!

This post is way too long, so I'll just throw out a few others...

Lin Heung Tea House -- like a rugby scrum for dim sum. This is where the cart lady famously told E-- sternly and loudly "NO" when he asked to see her wares. It ain't that kind of place. Nobody gets waited on. If you want it, you've got to fight for it.

Yunnan Rainbow -- I've blogged about this before. Little joint. Funny flowered table cloths, the whoofing sound of big woks in the back, a waitress who keeps you straight, families having supper, all tucked away down a side street.

Hotpot Instinct -- Young hipster guy who seems perpetually bored runs the door. They know us here and laugh at us, not with us, but what the hell... Tucked down a side street, with a bizzarro upstairs seating area that feels not-to-code. Combine this with intriguing rather gourmet offerings like squid and black truffle balls.

On the one hand I do think it's true that the concept of restaurant ethos is completely lost on HK restauranteurs. As with many things here, the product is endlessly varied, but the method of making it is set in stone. On the other hand, particularly with restaurants that have been around for a while, the individual personalities of the restaurant owners, cooks (?), and wait staff have emerged, creating more distinctive environments, not unlike at Genova.

Undoubtedly, my inability to speak the language and to discern nuances of culture holds me back in sniffing out more of the unique ethos-es that HK has to offer, but as I get better and find more of them I promise to blog about it ;-)