All American meal -- Thailand X

After a near-death experience with a mountain, there’s nothing more comforting for dinner than a beefy burger. Lucky enough for Karen and me, there was Mike’s Burgers, just down the main street from our guesthouse.

Mike’s Burgers looks like an all-American little hamburger stand, with yellow vinyl stools lining the counters and servers wearing bright primary color uniforms grilling up your burgers and frying up your fries fresh and in front of your eye. Above the grill is a picture menu with combination deals and along the side walls are photos of celebrities holding burgers up to their mouths (there was even one of Governor Arnold at In-N-Out). It felt so familiar, as if I’d eaten hamburgers in Thailand my entire life.

I ordered the onion burger with onion rings, French fries, and a Fanta (orange Fanta has been my drink of choice in Thailand, although I can’t remember the last time I drank it in the US). I saw them plunk my piece of meat on the grill, my sliced onions with a squirt of oil on too, then open up a bag of frozen onion rings and a bag of French fries and dunk them in the deep fryer. Mmm…this was going to be good.

The man spread some mayonnaise on the bun, plopped the piece of meat on, piled on the onions, leaned over and put all that meaty goodness right in front of me. He poured out the fries from the deep fryer basket with oil still dripping and plunked that in front of me too. Then came the onion rings. It took no more than half a second from the food to come off the grill and in front of my face, and it was all top-of-the-mouth-searing hot. The bun was too hot to handle and the fries left me open-mouthed with steam escaping.

But once they cooled down enough, they were spectacular. The burger’s beef patty was amazingly tender, soft, and juicy. I don’t know what they did to that cow to make the meat taste so good, and I don’t know if I want to know either. That slather of mayo on that bun added a nice rich tanginess. And those onions were soft and sweet but were oozing out the sides of my buns so I had to eat them with my fingers. The fries were fat and crisp with flakey potato inside. But the highlight of the meal was the onion rings. They weren’t dinky little onion rings but massive ones. The batter was crunchy and well seasoned. The onions inside were well cooked as to leave no hints of pungent raw onion and allowed you to bite through them, rather than bit into them and then pull all the onion away from the batter shell. I traveled across an entire ocean to find the best onion rings I’d ever eaten in Thailand.

I was stuffed, my hands were covered in grease and ketchup, and I was so satisfied. When our lady server asked how our meal was, I rubbed my tummy and practiced my Thai, “Aroy.” Delicious. Karen told her that those burgers were better than the ones she’s had in New York. Maybe we’d have dinner there again the next night.

Doi Khun Tan -- Thailand IX

There are no Cliff Bars in Thailand. There are, however, buns with middles of various fillings. Karen and I were going to hike Doi Khun Tan (at 1373 meter tall and a former German lookout point during WWII, the summit is the highest summit reachable on self-guided tours around Chiang Mai), and we needed provisions. We stopped by the 7-11 across the street from the train station to buy buns filled with taro, red bean, vanilla custard, and custard cream, dried squid, and salmon teriyaki flavored Lays.

Our train ride took us through beautiful Thai countryside, covered in rice paddies and bordered by green hills. A group of Thai school children wearing matching uniforms of yellow polo shirts, blue pants, brown shoes, and brown socks got on our car a few stop outside of Chiang Mai. During the ride, the school children pulled snacks out of the bags—potato chips, dried squid, rice wrapped in banana leaves—and shared with one another. They weren’t sharing with me though, so I pulled out my own package of squid snacks out of my backpack and ate them without sharing any with them.

When we got to our stop, the train conductor approached us and was like, “Doi Khun Tan.” We took this as a sign to get off. The lady at the park headquarters information booth said that the hike would take about three to four hours to get up and back. We arrived around noon and our returning train was scheduled to depart at 6:30, so we would have plenty of time to make it up and back.

The climb was steep, with the first portion of it all stairs. When we reached one of the rest areas, we stopped for our first set bun break. I had the vanilla custard one and Karen had the custard cream one, although they both tasted the same—too sweet filling inside a decently unstale bun. We continued our hike, passing beautifully tall bamboo trees and a couple of stray dogs that barked at us. We stopped for our next bun break. This time we shared a red bean one. It tasted like the others, except maybe a little more substantial.

Since it was nearing four o’clock and we still hadn’t reached the summit yet, we decided to turn back down the mountain only maybe a kilometer from the top. We looped our way back down the mountain, taking a route different from the one that took us up. It was slippery and steep. I slid down some rocks and got my right foot wet as I tried to cross a stream. This hike was a lot tougher and longer than the guidebook, the map, and the lady at the info booth made it seem, and we started to wonder if we were lost.

Karen was famished and had our last bun, the taro filled one. I had none of it, although I’m sure it probably tasted quite similar to the three previous ones. I was trying to figure out what we would do if we got stuck on the mountainside with only a bag of salmon flavored Lays potato chips and half a bottle of water. How would we be able to fashion a mosquito-proof tent out of our rain jackets? I’d never seen McGyver in a Thai jungle.

As the sun was making its way into the horizon and taking away some of the heat of the day, we were wondering how much further we had to go until we reached the park headquarters again. We hadn’t seen anyone, except for the one man with the stray dogs, on the mountain and we were concerned about who knew we were on this mountain. Did anyone know? Would anyone send out a search party?

We continued our hike down, and I began to hear noise of civilization, namely the sound of cars in the distance. We were getting close. And, finally, we reached park headquarters again, to the surprise of the group of Thai people there. They all looked as if they had no idea where we had emerged from; it didn’t seem like too many people hiked up that mountain. We made our way back to the train station, covered in dirt, sweat, and mosquito repellent. I was exhausted and sat with my shoes and socks off eating those salmon flavored Lays waiting for our train to take us back to Chiang Mai.

Dining by guidebook -- Thailand VIII

When you eat where your guidebook suggests, you’re bound to find others with your guidebook dining there too. That’s what we found out at Aroon Rai on Thanon Kotchasan. Karen’s Lonely Planet had describe Aroon Rai as authentic Northern cuisine that’s a favorite among the local Thai, although the expatriates fail to see it as such due to its popularity with foreigners.

When we arrived, there was one table of Thai folks and several others with foreigners. Sitting in the corner was one man with his copy of Lonely Planet face up on his table. Karen and I ordered what Lonely Planet suggested: the kaeng hang-leh, the kaeng awn, and the kaeng khae. There were no English translations in the book, so we had written the names down and showed it to our waitress. She looked slightly perplexed but she amused us, told us what those dishes were, and brought them out.

These were dishes my weeks of stomach training were prepping me for. Two of the dishes were Northern style curries, which is more like a soup than a curry. One had green vegetables and chicken and the other had bamboo shoots and chicken. They were both making me sweat. But when our waitress came around to ask if they were too spicy, I wiped the sweat from my face and replied, “Nope, it’s perfect.” I knew I would feel the effects of the spicy curry working through my body throughout the course of the next day. We also had a pork dish, which, gladly, wasn’t spicy at all but tasted sweetly of stewed pork and was delicious.

As we ate, more and more foreigner flooded the restaurant, squeezing every last Thai diner away. We also saw a blond haired couple walk in with their copy of Lonely Planet. The man with his on the table noticed the couple as well and turned his book over. I was glad ours was in Karen’s bag.

Heuan Phen -- Thailand VII

It took me a trip to Thailand to find something that I wouldn’t eat. Karen and I went to dinner at Heuan Phen on Thanon Ratchamankha. It’s a beautifully charming restaurant—the only eating establishment Id’ see in all of Thailand so far that actually looked like a restaurant complete with real walls and not just bamboo screening.

The menu looked possibly intimidating, with more than the usual curry and fried noodle fare, and the waiters looked hipster cool, with their enviable Converse sneakers. We ordered the bamboo shoots and spareribs soup, the stir-fry greens with Chiang Mai sausage, and the minced local crab meat.

The flavors of the soup were delicately subtle. Though the broth was clear, each spoonful contained rich flavors of pork balanced with the clean freshness of the bamboo shoot. The pork spareribs found at the bottom of the bowl tenderly fell apart with the touch of the spoon, and held all the gentle flavors of a slow-cooked soup.

The green were tasty as well although I couldn’t quite figure out what made the Chiang Mai sausage especially Chiang Mai. It had the color, taste, and texture of the fish paste patties my sister’s godparents give me that I leaved stored in my freeze until I’m pathetically tired and hungry that I finally give in to eating them, but that’s to say that the sausage bits weren’t welcome in my mouth.

It was the minced crab dish that I couldn’t eat. I had been the one who wanted that too. It came out in a tiny bowl accompanied with slices of cucumber and stalks of what looked like Chinese broccoli. Inside the bowl with a black mush. It looked unlike any crab dish that I had ever seen. I approached it tentatively with my fork, picked up a small amount, and brought it to my tongue. It tasted foul, like one of those Harry Potter Jelly Bellies with names like Booger, Dirt, or Black Pepper. But, if I concentrated hard enough, I could discern the faint taste of crab, or at least the reminiscent flavors of the sea. The Thai men next to us ordered what looked to be the same dish, and they were eating with the cucumber and vegetable. I tried the black mush that way too, anticipating that would make it more palatable, but no. It just tasted like cucumber and foulness. I tried three times to acquire a taste for it then gave up. It wasn’t a taste to be acquired but one to be forgotten.

I wish we would have ordered more food though since there were so many dishes that looked appealing and the two that I could stomach were fantastic. Maybe the next I’m back around these parts.

Trekking -- Thailand VI

There are plenty of reasons to come to Thailand: good food, nice people, bargain shopping. There are also elephant rides, bamboo rafting, and hill-tribe trekking for the more adventurous. Karen and I signed up for a one-day trek with the other residents of our guesthouse. We packed our backpacks and hopped in the back of the truck.

The first stop on our trek was elephant riding. We purchased a bag of bananas to feed the elephants. We hopped on our elephant precariously and took off into the jungle. Our elephant frequently stopped and reach his trunk over his head and onto us, telling us the he wanted a banana, and each time I would lean over and stick one in his trunk, getting elephant dirt snot all over my hand. All those bananas going to the elephant was starting to make me hungry and a little jealous. I bought those bananas, why should they all go to the elephant? So, I pulled one out for myself. One banana for the elephant, one banana for Susan.

After the exhausting elephant ride that took us through dense jungle vegetation and through a river, it was time for lunch. We drove over to a roofed outdoor space with two long wooden tables pushed together. Our tour guide then approached with plates of fried rice with egg. I sprinkled some of the red chili flakes on and scarfed that rice down. After our rice dish, plates of cut up watermelon and pineapple came out. I had only a few pieces of the sweet fruit fearing what might lots of fresh fruit in a foreign country might do to me and how many flies might have swarmed it before it reached our table. As we ate, we chatted with the British students, learned that they were childhood friends who now all studied at different universities but were taking a holiday together. I tried speaking Cantonese to the Malaysian group but then quickly reverted back to English. And, I didn’t even try to attempt French with the French couple and their young son.

After lunch we took a little hike through the rain to reach a waterfall, where we stripped down to our bathing suits and crossed the slippery, slimy rocks precariously to take a quick shower and dip. Then, it was to the river again for bamboo rafting. The Frenchman and the Indian British student fell overboard.

We were done. It was a long but fun day, and we were all exhausted. After a quick stop at the snack shack, we all piled back into the bed of the truck, I with wet shorts, and were on our way back to Chiang Mai, passing around bags of Lays potato chips of various flavors (Karen had purchased seaweed ones) to one another.

Moat -- Thailand V

The old city of Chiang Mai is surrounded by a moat and, at sections, a wall to form a square perimeter. The city has outgrown the moat and newer sections of the city radiate from the central area.

Karen and I were staying within the moated middle area of the city, and our evening jaunt would take us outside our protected quadrant. On our way, we stopped by for some dinner: a bowl of noodle soup from a man with a noodle soup cart located over the moat area. The noodles were perfectly cooked, the broth well seasoned, if slightly oily, and the beef meat balls chewy. This tasted and looked like the noodle soup my mom always made for us. That bowl of 15 baht noodle soup was happily slurped down under the moonlight with all the other folk crowded onto the moat top for an outdoor dinner.

Chiang Mai welcoming -- Thailand IV

Chiang Mai was founded as the capital of Lanna, the northern kingdom of Thailand, in 1296. With a population of 250,000, it's known as Thailand's "second city" -- second only to Bangkok. My travel guide described it as a laid-back city, where the people are pleasant and the food abundant and good. I knew I wanted to spend a good portion of my trip here.

We had our first meal in Chiang Mai at a restaurant around the corner from our guesthouse. We were exhausted after a long bus ride, and that was as far as I was will to travel. There, we were greeted, by a friendly woman whose "sawadee khaa" was welcoming.

I had read somwehre that Thais eat family style, sharing communal dishes, and usually order a soup and one dish more than the number of people dining, which seemed like a lot of food to me, especially if there were only two of us eating. But we ordered away, using the picture menu as our guide.

We ordered the coconut milk soup with mushrooms and lemongrass, the fried tim tab, and the panang chicken curry. The soup was heavily fragrant of lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves, and creamy but light from the coconut milk. The tim tab was a whole fish cut into sections and fried until lightly crispy. A dip of the fish into the sweet plum sauce made it a delightful salty sweet crunchy bit. The panang chicken curry was slightly spicy with tender pieces of chicken.

We cleaned the plated and bowls of all three dishes, leaving only fish bones and lemongrass. If our first Thai meal in our foreigner flocked neighborhood could be this good, our dining in Chiang Mai could only get better.