The Royal Palette

My third day in Thailand brought every blessing that I had been anticipating. That’s right dear readers (reader count=5 and nameless lurkers), finally I was receiving all of the blessings that I had been hoping for here in this lovely country. The bus ride to the Royal Palace brought a more complete view of Bangkok’s smoggy, and congested chaotic tumble of traffic. Our traveling troupe of teachers was met outside the palace gates by a deafening rumble of vendors, tuk-tuks, and basic Bangkok bedlam. The veritable din of noise (notice that I use this phrase a lot, don’t you? I just love how it sounds) outside of Bangkok’s Royal Palace was oddly and suddenly quieted completely as I entered through the palace gates. The sights and sounds that surround the Royal Palace were replaced with the beauty of the lush oriental gardens that spread out before us on our way to the golden pointed spires that illuminated the otherwise dark and dreary day. A brick wall and a sea of tourists and farangs (I have come to find out that this only applies to the white foreigners and therefore is a nicer form of our American “cracker”) separated me from the barely visible bevy of beauty that awaited me through the palace’s true doors.

Entering through the palace’s true doors I was greeted by gorgeous gold leaf engraved murals that spoke of ancient stories of kings who valiantly fought demons for their true loves. Needless to say it was hard not get swept up in the romance of it all. I opened my world wearied heart and eyes to the sights that awaited me. Immediately I was overwhelmed by a series of buildings that sang out in a chorus of gold, red, turquoise, and emerald, and stone statues that were softened by dots of verdant green, well manicured topiary. I was breathless and blown away, and there are not words that would suffice to speak of all I saw and how I felt that day. I found myself waffling between mouth agape awe and busied bulb flashing. However, there is no way that I could possibly have captured on film or now in words this truly once in a lifetime experience. You’ll simply have to add this to your bucket list.

A crowd had gathered around the cluster of beautiful buildings that seemed to gently push me through to the center of the jeweled treasure trove to which I had been transported. The building that awaited me held the famed Emerald Buddha. The country’s greatest treasure is held within a beautifully ornamented wat. This would be one of the many wats around the city that I would see over the next week, but by far the most beautiful (for those of you who have not the time or interest to do the homework yourself a wat is a temple, you’re welcome). As this statue is so sacred to the Thai there are no photographs allowed inside of the wat. This only adds to the sense of sacred inside the building. Incense greets you at the door, and inside there is a hush as people kneel and bow their heads in quiet reverie. It was here that I was overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude. The tears swimming to my eyes obscured the vision of gold that awaited me in the wat. Overwhelmed by emotion in a country that, from what I had read, would not understand or welcome tears spilling from my eyes in such a public manner (even if they were the happy kind). I stepped outside to do my best at blinking it back, and shifted my attention on the vendor’s booth of tourist treats that greedily await the farang pocketbook. I wish I could say that I was that kind of farang, but this little mama has come by every opportunity through a mix of hard work, smarts, and sheer luck. Money lining my pockets? Not so much. Now where’s that gorgeous sugar daddy expat when I need him?

As if this day could have possibly gotten better? Oh, but it did. Following the Royal Palace excursion, our merry band of busied Bangkok bohos headed across the street for the single best meal I have had here so far. Let’s just say kiddies, my palate was more than pleased. According to several travel guides that I consulted about this restaurant (thanks to some help from the team that brought me to Thailand) it seems that this is not the kind of place you can just walk in to, and their menu was impossible to find. However, after consulting a couple of the local teachers I believe the elusive name of the amazing dish that I found myself gravitating towards would be Pla Muk Pad Ped, and I have included the recipe for your dining pleasure below.

Enjoy,

The Epicurious Gypsy

Ingredients

1 lb Cleaned Squid               

Marinade

5    Minced Garlic Cloves          2 tb Fish Sauce (Nam Pla)        

2 tb White Wine                        1 tb Soy Sauce                   

1/8 ts White Pepper                   1 tb Sugar                       

1 tb Cornstarch                          2 tb Oil                         

Garnish

Green Leaf Lettuce Or              Tomato Slices               

Chinese Lettuce                        Carrot Slices               

Cucumber Slices                       Cilantro Leaves             

Slash the mantle/hood of the squid diagonally, then cut diagonal slashes in the opposite direction. Slice into 2 inch pieces.

Mix together all the marinade ingredients, then add the squid and marinate for 10 minutes.

Heat a large skillet, add the oil and saute the squid on medium-high heat until all the squid curls.

Garnish with the ingredients listed above, or with any decoratively carved vegetables, and serve.

Busy Bees in Bangkok

First, dear readers (reader count=4, and nameless untold masses) let me begin by apologizing for the extreme tardiness of this post. To say that the last month of my life has been a veritable whirlwind of things to do, people to see, and places to go would be putting it lightly. Rather, it has been utter fucking chaos in every wonderful way imaginable. Will I regale you all with stories of the beautiful, amazing, and wonderful human beings that I am blessed to know? Not a chance. For I know that this is not at all what you came to read. Instead, let’s just say that I am one blessed little mama. What you want to hear, and what I have been craving to give you is news of the sights, sounds, and pleasures of Thailand. So, here we go…

Stepping off the plane in Bangkok was not unlike an emergency flight evacuation. No sillies, there were no fires to put out or people to be taken into custody. Instead the emergency may have been how sore all of the farangs’ (farang is the word the Thai use for foreigners) asses were from untold hours in the air. When stepping off the plane the first things that hit you are the warm, moist air and the smell. I have heard the heat and humidity described as oppressive, but I believe that these may very well be people unfamiliar with a sizzling Atlanta summer. I arrived in the “rainy” season, which typically has some of the country’s mildest (outside of the “winter” season) weather, and consequently found myself mildly surprised at the lack of discomfort. A warm drizzle of rain cooled my skin as I stepped from the plane onto the bus that would carry me to baggage claim, and was greeted immediately with the fragrance of something akin to one of the sweeter curries. This was maybe more surprising, as I had heard tell that Bangkok “stunk”. I am now wondering if the particular individual’s taste buds tend to run a little, well, “white bread”. This would be one of my first lessons here in not believing someone else’s tales of Thailand (and yes I include my own in that, so you’ll just have to come and visit me to see for yourself).

The sweet and somewhat spicy smell of the air would be a bit of a tease for the next 24 hours, but I will get to that in a bit. This will be no long story short post as my first 24 hours in Bangkok was a whirlwind of traveling tales that must be told. Several traveling teachers and I had agreed to meet at the airport since we shared the flight from Tokyo to Bangkok. In all, five of us tramped through the city’s gorgeously muraled airport to claim our luggage and our destinies. I know I am so dramatic, but this is why you keep coming back, right? Don’t worry it will be our little secret. I am not sure if it was the lack of sleep, or the 24 hours in flight, but whatever the reason the next hour was quite the adventure. Our small pack of flight wearied wanderers made our way to the airport stand just outside of the hotel. Now, before coming to Thailand I had done quite a bit of research, but this seemed to fly right out of my jet lagged head. Never, ever go to the airport directed “official” taxi stands. Numerous websites, and travel books had said just this, but they had failed to mention that the actual airport signs direct you to these little motorized scams. So, following airport signs, this is exactly where we ended up. We proceeded to negotiate the taxi fare. If you find yourself in Thailand, and about to take a taxi, do not take a flat fee that they will try to offer you, instead insist upon the “meter, please” with a large, and polite smile spread across your face. A little sugar makes the medicine go down, and this is particularly true in Thailand.

After negotiating the taxis for all five of us, we headed out to find our way to the hotel that would be our home for the next week. Let me just say that the next half hour came very close to coloring my view of what is yet to come. However, if you haven’t figured out that I am one tenacious little fire cracker than you haven’t been reading this blog. I’ll give it to you quick and dirty: monsoon like torrential downpour, nitrous in the trunk (no, I am not kidding), breakneck speed of 120 kilometers per hour, almost insurmountable language barrier, two tolls, a couple of stops on the interstate, and a frustrating and screaming taxi driver. In the smog and fog filled morning, when a few hours of sleep had been acquired and new friends were being made, I found that to one extent or another many of the taxi stories went quite a bit like mine (give or take some drama).

This, of course, brings me to my first full day in Bangkok. Planes, trains, and automobiles? Nah! Try trains, tuk-tuks, sky-trains, buses, and finally a taxi. A large group of us wound our way down to central Bangkok by way of train. From the train station we made our way to the outskirts of Bangkok’s central modern shopping district. After we paid a visit to what the Thai call the “happy room” (you’ll just have to look this one up for yourself), we procured our first Thai meal. In all honesty, I should say that this was our second Thai meal, as our first was the breakfast in the hotel. Now, I am no stranger to Thai food, and was greedily anticipating all of the spices and flavors awaiting me on this beautiful journey. However, these meals just continued to disappoint. They were bland, overpriced (in no way am I saying that the prices compare to our cheapest restaurant meal in the states-more like dollar meal prices at a sit down pace), and altogether disappointing. After procuring our measly meal we headed back out and found a tuk-tuk to take us to the nearest market. Imagine five women crammed onto the back of a golf cart and you have the idea. We knew that this wasn’t quite right when even the locals were staring, pointing, and making merry. And then we found ourselves in what looked like a cross between certain neighborhoods in the states where you go for the cheap rims (you know what I’m talking about, don’t try to act like you don’t), and an actual junkyard. Amidst two and three story dingy, decrepit, and otherwise run down dwellings were car parts stacked upon car parts further than the eye could see. Where were we? “Maah-kit” our tuk-tuk driver happily declared to us. Our jaws were on each other’s shoulders (forget the floor, the chins didn’t have room to make it down that far). We stared in disbelief around us. This was not quite what we had in mind. Another negotiation landed us safely in a major shopping center known as Siam Square (think Times Square, the French Quarter, and a major shopping mall and you might get the idea).

After a small bit of gawking, we headed confidently in the direction of the sky-train. The sky-train is certainly one of the pleasures of travel in Thailand. Think of Chicago’s EL, but brand new, shiny, very clean, quiet, and extremely quick paced. Okay so it is nothing like the EL, maybe I should have made a Disney reference here instead? Oh, suddenly you know what I’m talking about, huh? Anyway the end of the line in Bangkok’s sky-train transportation is Mo Chit. This was a very pretty part of Bangkok cleaner than most of the city and fairly green (I’m happy to report that I will be living very close to there very shortly). We hopped the bus that the hotel swore would bring us to Soi 64 which was the large road located just a half block from the hotel. You already know how this story ends don’t you? Needless to say our limited Thai, and the bus driver’s limited English (0=0) left us somewhere north of the city, but not much closer to our hotel. After settling on a taxi being the easiest way to get back to the hotel, we quickly piled into the taxi and headed back to more familiar ground for the first decent meal I had in Thailand.

The day had left us disoriented, wearied, and more than a little hungry. Happily our first course, and my favorite, was a shared portion of Tom Yum soup which I have included for your tasting pleasure below.

Enjoy,

The Epicurious Gypsy

Ingredients

4 cups water

1 stalk of lemon grass (cut into 4" long pieces and bruised slightly to release flavor)

3-4 keffirlime leaves (torn into small 1/2" pieces)

1 package of white button mushrooms (sliced in half)

3-4 whole Thai chili peppers

1 1/2 lbs peeled shrimp

3-4 tbsp fish sauce

2 tablespoons of chili paste in soy bean oil

2 large limes

1/2 cup of cilantro leaves

DirectionsPreparation for Thai Tom Yum

Boil water in a deep pot

Add cut lemon grass, keffirlime leaves, sliced mushrooms and Thai chili peppers

Add shrimp

When shrimp turns pink turn off heat

Season with fish sauce (to suit your taste)

Add chili paste in soy bean oil

squeeze in 2 large limes (roll these on a cutting board or other flat surface before slicing and squeezing-you get twice the juice!)

add ½ cup of cilantro leaves

remove lemon grass stalks and keffir lime leaves (they are too tough to eat-or don’t and watch your guests try to chew on these, too funny!)

Dragons, and Fairies, and Vampires, Oh My!

Summertime and the living ain't easy. At least not for the inhabitants of this fair Southern city. The black tar of the pavement, and lack of trees on many of the city's streets makes for an unbearable climate. Coming in from the sweltering heat of a hot early September day in the unforgiving city streets of Atlanta, I am met by a cool rush of air and a veritable din of noise. I have left behind the tinny sounding rattle of g-boys in their tricked out cars, the enclosed casement feel of being surrounded by skyscrapers, and the early afternoon sun. I am met with a sea of bodies. A fairy here, a pirate there, a...I pause...I don't even know what that is. Have I just walked, unassumingly, through a portal to another world? A world where all of this is not met with gasps and gawkers, but rather with smiles, nods, and the flash of photographers littered through the crowd like tiny dying stars? Or am I just at Atlanta's biggest convention of the year? Dragon Con!

Dragon Con is four days of decadence, debauchery, and dancing. At least that is my experience. I realize that in far corners of places I have not wandered is a multitude of rolling dice and traded cards, and nope I'm not referring to gambling. But my four days, and in fact my life, has never revolved around the intangible art of the game. I have never understood its pleasures, but that is a conversation for another time. My four days are filled with beautiful music and the grinding rhythm of my body as the music takes me away, lovely costumes, shopping, drinking, partying, and general debauchery. Have I just enjoyed myself without regard to tomorrow, my knees, and my liver? Why, yes, yes I have, and thank you for asking.

Monday night rolls around, and then Tuesday and I am still recovering from my extended weekend. My recovery takes the form of Arden's Garden juices and shots, and very healthy food. No, don't go! I promise that my version of healthy is still infused with plenty of flavor. Come on haven't we, dear readers (reader count=3...and numerous unnamed faces), learned that I don't bother with anything that doesn't make my senses zing?! Although I promise that the following recipe is healthy, it will still delight your taste buds.

Enjoy,
The Epicurious Gypsy

Ingredients:
1lg can of albacore tuna  packed in water (if you'd prefer to make tuna steak go for it, but after this weekend that is not in my budget)
1 bottle of kalamata olives packed in olive oil and pitted
1 lemon (zest and juice will be used)
Parmesan (spend a little extra for the good stuff, there is a difference)
flat leaf parsley
1 box/package whole wheat rotini (if you can find it I highly recommend Tinkyada's brown rice pasta instead)
1 tsp minced garlic (you can use the jarred kind for this recipe)
tiny bit of salt
fresh ground black pepper
1 Tbsp (or more if you like) Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Boil the water for pasta according to package directions. Salt water prior to putting in pasta, then boil pasta according to package directions. While pasta is boiling, mince flat leaf parsley, garlic, and kalamata olives (you can rough chop these). In medium metal mixing bowl mix parsley, garlic, olives, tuna, and evoo. place over boiling water and allow to heat while pasta is working. When pasta is al dente (firm to the tooth, or just not mushy....ewwww), drain pasta and immediately rinse to remove any extra starch. Place pasta back in bowl along with ingredients in metal mixing bowl. Mix everything together, allowing for more evoo as needed (if it is too dry you'll know). Zest lemon into pasta and juice between fingers into pasta, add fresh ground black pepper to taste. Mix all well, and top with paremesan when served.

Amore e risata nella cucina e Manicotti

In honor of certain family members coming to visit; I give you, my readers (reader count=3), a rare glimpse into my most sacred of places. Now, now, now, get your mind out of the gutter (at least for a moment)! I am not speaking of anything necessarily torrid, no. Rather, I am referring to the most sacred of my kitchen's recipes-Italian food. To say that this fills me with anything but passion would be a sin. Passion is a word my family throws around to describe a most desirable state of being. This word is used as an excuse for some of our naughtier behavior, but also to show our great commitment to la bella vita! My mother's family taught me to live life to the fullest, and when we cook, we throw ourselves into the art of food.

Growing up the oldest of eleven grandchildren, and the daughter of a daughter of the family's matriarch, gifted me with a unique glimpse of our family and its history. The smell of myhr, the incantation of latin hymnals, the lilting lines and sounds of Luciano Pavarotti's incomparable vocals all created a background for the family magic that I was steeped in. My mother's family was a family of women. That is not to say that the men were not important, and dynamic, but they were grossly outnumbered. So it was among the women and their very vocal and sometimes silent exchanges that I learned what it meant to be a strong, beautiful, Italian woman. I was blessed to watch them dancing around the kitchen to whatever opera happened to be playing in the background as they diced, chopped, kneaded, rolled, filled, and magically created dishes that could bring the men to their knees. This was not cooking, this was alchemy.

I have altered certain recipes to my liking over the years, but I believe that I have not strayed from the original too much. And so I offer a rare glimpse of a recipe that I will be creating myself this weekend for your pleasure.

Enjoy,
The Epicurious Gypsy

Extra Virign Olive Oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
14 (8-ounce package) manicotti
1 (15-ounce) container skim-milk ricotta
3 cups shredded mozzarella
1 cup grated Parmesan-Romano
2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat leaf parsley leaves
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 cups marinara sauce (use your favorite, mine is an ancient secret, and if I told you I'd have to kill you)
2 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces

Directions
Brush 1 teaspoon of oil over a large baking sheet. Cook the manicotti in a large pot of boiling salted water until slightly softened, but still very firm to the bite, about 4 to 6 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the manicotti from the pot to the oiled baking sheet and cool.
Meanwhile, combine the ricotta, 1 1/2 to 2 cups mozzarella cheese, 1/2 cup Parmesan-Romano, and parsley. Add the garlic, salt, and pepper to taste, and mix.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Brush 2 teaspoons of oil over a 13 by 9 by 2-inch glass baking dish. Spoon 1 1/2 cups of the marinara sauce over the bottom of the prepared dish. Fill the manicotti with the cheese mixture (use a small ziploc with a corner cut to fill the holes). Arrange the stuffed pasta in a single layer in the prepared dish and spoon the remaining sauce over.
Sprinkle the remaining 1 1/2 cups of mozzarella cheese, then the remaining 1/2 cup of Parmesan-Romano over the stuffed pasta. Dot entire dish with the butter pieces. Bake the manicotti uncovered until heated through and the sauce bubbles on the sides of the dish, about 30 to 35 minutes. Let the manicotti stand 5 minutes and serve.

Shirley Temple, All Grown Up (or How to Make an Amaretto Cherry Sour)

In keeping with the spirit of exploring the culture of my environment, I must include a tiny bit of background information from time to time. Therefore dear readers (reader count=2), I have included some information about my early days in Atlanta for your perusal. My love affair with music, and it is a love affair--picture cerulean blue skies and couples embracing in frozen locked kisses as the camera makes wide arching circles while a chorus bursts into song, must be contributed to my mother's large Italian family. I have always thought of them as a merry band of dark hued gypsies, each with a God given talent for singing or playing any and all assortment of musical instruments. I imagine that my mother sang to both my sister and myself while we nested comfortably in her womb, not knowing what madness awaited in the bustling world outside. Whereas my sister most likely sang along, her stunningly gorgeous voice in harmony with our mother's superior soprano; I imagine that my mother's trilling acapella had me rhythmically swinging my tiny arms and legs. I burst from the womb with no other talent for music than my infant screams. None the less, my family's love of music had an indelible affect on me. I came into this world dancing. This love affair can not be compared with my love for music, for these two loves are incomparable but completely compatible. My love for dance is not sugar coated for the masses, no. It is lusty, gutsy, and sometimes down right mean. Dance moves me from a place deep within the hidden folds of my psyche--a place churning with primordial ooze and vibrating with the rapid rhythm of tribal drums.

Take a spin in my DeLorean DMC-12, and fast forward about 20 years.  The year is 1997 and the city of Atlanta is abuzz with transients and growth due in no small part to the 1996 Olympics. I am one of the masses looking for the promise of a bright future, and my version of the American Dream. A shy, dark haired, and undereducated young girl seeking out her place in the big, scary world. Much to my surprise I find others like myself, moved by the beats rising up through the primordial ooze. I began my dark descent at a little dive by the name of 688. By the light of day I was a serious young woman making my way through the working ranks, but at night I relinquished my need for control and gave in to my most base desires. I'm sorry to say that sounds far more scandalous than it truly is--you see these desires have almost always been fed simply on the dance floor. If there were a soundtrack for this sordid double life it would most certainly begin with this song: Alien Sex Fiend's "I Walk the Line". And if there were a drink that symbolizes my sweet, but sometimes sour nature it would be the Amaretto Cherry Sour. This sweet, and somewhat sour drink is a nod to all of the Shirley Temple, Roy Robins drink ordering kiddies out there. I do not recommend ordering this drink at any of your more serious bars, as they will most likely laugh in your face, however this is on my short list of guilty pleasures, and in the pursuit of honesty I have included the recipe below. Readers, laugh all you want, but give it a try anyway I promise your little kiddie hearts will not be disappointed, and your alcoholic palettes will be pleasantly pleased.

Enjoy,

Epicurious Gypsy

  

Ingredients:

2 oz. amaretto liqueur

1 oz. sweet and sour mix

1 tbsp. grenadine

2 oz. lemon lime soda

Baby Steps and Southern Food

This is my first official foray into the world of blogging. My intention is to take you all (current readers=zero) with me on my travels. We begin our journey on my home turf of Atlanta, GA. That's right the A, or ATL, but never ever Hotlanta (uttering this bygone phrase is a surefire way to piss off any native and to reveal yourself as an uneducated tourist of our fair city). I have signed a beautifully contracted deal with the devil, and consequently will be spending the next year of my life in the tropics of Thailand. As I plan to immerse myself in their beautiful culture with all of my senses I will take my readers with me by sharing a recipe a week that is sure to make your mouth water and leave you with echoes of angels singing.

So let us begin with Atlanta. I first moved here 13 years ago--yes, I was just a child, thank you for noticing ;) As a tried and true GDI (that's God Damned Independent for you Yanks) I was shocked by the sweltering heat you could cut with a knife, the iced tea so sweet you could pour it on pancakes, and the food, the food! Chopped, diced, filleted but however you cut it was always one thing--fried. After trying my Northern hand at the Southern art of frying (and failing miserably), I resigned myself to only partaking in the golden, savory crunch of these foods at various restaurants around town. Atlanta is a sun drenched treasure trove of eateries. Don't be fooled, not everything is fried. Beignets at brunch? Ethiopian in the early hours? Lange de Boeuf at lunch? Shawarma at supper? Mediterranean at midnight? Whatever you are looking for, Atlanta's vast array of dining wonders has got you covered. But let's get back to the simplicity of Southern dining, and since this our first meeting let us begin in the beginning. Southern appetizers come in an array of flavors, but none so decidedly Southern as the one and only Fried Green Tomato. I first discovered this golden, crunchy, savory, sweet vegetable at a dive that will remain nameless. First impressions are lasting, but no woman worth her salt will only try something once. It was upon my second tasting at the decadent South City Kitchen that I fell in love. Their recipe will easily stand up to anyone else's in my book, and I have included it for your dining pleasure below.

Enjoy,
The Epicurious Gypsy

Ingredients:


For the tomatoes:
3 large green tomatoes

Salt and black pepper to taste

12 tablespoons of softened goat cheese

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

4 eggs, well beaten

2 cups bread crumbs

Salt and pepper to taste

Oil for frying

1/4 pound dandelion greens, washed and dried



For the sauce:
3 sweet red peppers, seeded and cut into large pieces

1 onion, chopped

1 teaspoon chopped garlic

1 sprig thyme

5 basil leaves

2 cups chicken stock or tomato juice

1/4 cup white wine or vinegar

1/4 cup granulated sugar

Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

To make the tomatoes: Slice tomatoes into 4 or 5 1/4-inch slices. Season with salt and pepper. Spread goat cheese on each slice liberally. Dust lightly in flour. Then dip each into beaten eggs and coat with bread crumbs. Refrigerate.

To make the sauce: Saute peppers, onions and garlic in a medium saucepan over medium heat until soft, about 15 minutes. Add thyme, basil leaves, chicken stock, white wine, sugar, salt and pepper. Cover and simmer 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Puree in food processor or blender and season to taste.

To finish: As sauce cooks, heat oil in a deep-fat fryer to 350 degrees. Remove tomatoes from refrigerator, and with a slotted spoon, lower them into the hot oil and fry until golden brown and crisp on all sides. (If you don't want to deep-fry, tomatoes may also be fried on both sides in about 1 inch of hot oil.) Drain on paper towels. Add dandelion greens to the hot oil and fry until crisp.

Cut tomatoes in half. Pour pureed sauce onto plates and top with tomatoes. Place greens on top or side.