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Thai Iced Tea: From Bangkok Cafes to American Diners

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Thai Iced Tea: From Bangkok Cafes to American Diners Photo: The Woks of Life There is no mistaking Thai iced tea. A tall glass arrives glowing sunset-orange, ice piled high, a pale layer of milk swirling down through the tea like clouds through an evening sky. The first sip is sweet and creamy, then the tea itself comes through — strong black tea, warm spices, a whisper of vanilla and tamarind — and the chill lands exactly when the chilli from your last bite of curry needs it. In Bangkok it is cha yen , the everyday drink of cafes, street stalls and shophouse restaurants. In America it has become something just as beloved: the glass that sits beside pad Thai and green curry in diners and Thai restaurants from Los Angeles to New York, and the first Thai flavour many Americans ever fell for. Cha yen in Bangkok: strong tea, made to be sweet and cold Thailand learned tea drinking from China and learned to love sweet milky drinks in the twentieth century, as condensed milk and evapo...

Sup Hang Wua: Arab-Spiced Oxtail Soup, Thai Style

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Sup Hang Wua: Arab-Spiced Oxtail Soup, Thai Style Photo: Eating Thai Food Some soups comfort. Sup Hang Wua restores. A big metal fire pot arrives at the table still bubbling over charcoal, full of tender pieces of oxtail in a clear broth that smells of warm spices, tomato and fresh herbs. The first spoonful is sour and savoury and gently hot; the second carries cinnamon, star anise and black pepper underneath the lime and chilli. It is a Thai Muslim classic, a soup with Arab and Persian spice routes in its bones, made completely Thai by the herbs, the chillies and the way it is eaten — communally, with rice, while the pot stays hot in the middle of the table. A soup that travelled, then settled Thailand's Muslim communities, especially in Bangkok and the south, have cooked with dried spices for centuries — traders from Arabia, Persia and India brought cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, star anise and cumin long before they were common in central Thai kitchens. Oxtail soup in this ...

Bánh Xèo: The Sizzling Crepe of the South (and Centre)

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Day three of this Vietnam series, and the kitchen moves south — you could hear this one coming from down the street. Yesterday's bún chà was Hanoi's quiet, brothy lunch. Bánh xèo is its opposite in almost every way: loud, golden, fried hard in a roaring-hot pan, and eaten with your hands, wrapped in leaves, in a cloud of steam and herbs. The word xèo is not a place or an ingredient. It is a sound — the long, fierce sizzle when a ladle of batter hits smoking oil. The dish is named after its own noise. A Crepe, But Not a Dessert Western visitors see the shape and think French crepe, and the connection is not imaginary — Vietnam's kitchens absorbed French techniques and gave them back changed. But bánh xèo is a savoury, main-event dish. The batter is rice flour tinted deep yellow with turmeric, sometimes enriched with egg, poured thin into a well-seasoned wok or flat pan so hot the batter sets almost on contact. It fries into a lacy, shattering shell — crisp frilled edges, ...

Shan Noodles: The Eastern State's Favorite Bowl

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Shan Noodles: The Eastern State's Favorite Bowl Photo: Exotic Voyages In Shan State, in the cool hills of eastern Myanmar, a bowl of Shan noodles is how the day properly starts — and, if we are honest, how it happily continues at lunch, too. Soft, flat rice noodles are laid in a bowl, spooned over with a rich tomato and pork sauce, scattered with crushed peanuts and spring onions, and finished with pickled mustard greens on the side. It looks simple. It tastes anything but: sweet tomato, savoury pork, a gentle warmth of spice, nutty crunch and a sour pickle cutting through it all. No wonder this is the eastern state's favourite bowl, and one of the first dishes travellers remember when they leave Inle Lake and the Shan hills behind. From the Shan hills to the whole country The Shan people — Tai Yai in their own language, close cousins of the Thai and Lao — have lived in these highlands for centuries, and their cooking carries that Tai heritage: rice noodles, fermented s...

Bun Cha: Hanoi's Grilled Pork and Noodle Lunch

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Bun Cha: Hanoi's Grilled Pork and Noodle Lunch Photo: Vietnam Travel At lunchtime in Hanoi, the smoke gives it away first. Small charcoal grills fan up along the pavement, pork patties sizzling and spitting, slices of pork belly caramelising at the edges, and that sweet, smoky smell drifting over the low plastic stools. Then the tray arrives: a bowl of warm, amber dipping broth with the grilled pork swimming in it, a plate of cool white rice vermicelli, and a basket of herbs so green and generous it looks like a small garden. That is bun cha — Hanoi's grilled pork and noodle lunch, and for many Hanoians, simply what lunch means. A Hanoi lunch, not a Hanoi dinner Bun cha belongs to the middle of the day. In the capital it is traditionally a lunchtime dish, sold by specialist shops and street stalls that fire their grills late in the morning and sell out by mid-afternoon. The dish is built on contrast: hot, smoky pork against cool noodles, rich grilled meat against a brot...

Khao Niao: Sticky Rice — the Soul of the Lao Table

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Ask a Lao person what they are, and the old answer is luk khao niao — a child of sticky rice. It is not a joke about diet. It is a statement of identity, and it marks one of the clearest food borders in Asia. On one side of it, roughly the Lao world — Laos itself and Isan, Thailand's Lao northeast — the daily staple is khao niao: glutinous rice, steamed until the grains cling, eaten by hand in balls. On the other side, in Bangkok and the central Thai plains, the staple is khao jao, ordinary jasmine rice, loose-grained and eaten with spoon and fork. Same plant, same country on the Isan side of the line, two different civilisations of the table. This article is the deep dive into the grain that holds one of them together — how it is grown, how it is steamed, how it is eaten, and how to get it right in your own kitchen, wherever that kitchen is. One Grain, Two Tables First, a word about the name. "Glutinous" describes texture, not content: sticky rice contains no gluten a...

Gaeng Som: Fiery Sour Curry of the South

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Gaeng Som: Fiery Sour Curry of the South Photo: Golden Dennis Gaeng som is the curry that wakes you up. In Thailand's Deep South it arrives in a bright orange-red broth that is sour first, fiery second and fragrant all the way through — turmeric staining the spoon gold, tamarind pulling everything sharp, chillies building a clean heat that clears your head. There is no coconut milk to soften it and no sugar to hide behind. Just fish, vegetables and a broth so bold that a bowl of plain jasmine rice beside it tastes sweet by contrast. For many southern families this is not a special-occasion dish at all. It is Tuesday. Sour, not sweet — and proudly so Gaeng som simply means sour curry, and cooks across Thailand make a version of it. The central Thai version is often gentler and a little sweeter, with green papaya and river fish. The southern version — gaeng som pak tai — turns the volume up: more chillies, more turmeric, a paste pounded with garlic and shallots, and a sourne...