Side note...

Something I will never eat:

Thai Street Food

Frying fish in a cart

Some egg concoction

choices...

Fish smells. A lot.

Preparing breakfast for the monks at a temple

On the river at the floating market

More fish!

First Thai Days

I got to Thailand three days ago. I LOVE Thai food, I really do, and could not have been more excited to try the authentic stuff. And I was sure that the Thais would not let me down, and that the exchange rate being in my favor would allow for a lot of sampling.

Before I get into specifics, I want to give the bottom line. Thai food in America is NOT Thai food in Thailand. Sure, all the names are the same, but my tongue knows not to judge a book by its cover. Thai food here is, upsettingly, blander and greasier. It may be because I'm not adventurous enough. It REALLY might be because I'm eating cheapy. But I'm upset. I wanted to be reeling in peanuts when I tried pad thai, I wanted to be on fire with their curry. Instead, I just sort of have an upset stomach and a lot of bloating.

It all started out excitingly. Thai air gave us four courses (FOUR!) of Thai food, the best of which was this:

Pad thai shrimp on the airplane! How lucky could we be? The novelty of it all even prompted this momentous experience:

Monica breaking Kashrut for the first time!

It was good. So I was expecting to be wowed when I actually landed and could have the fresh stuff...

Right next to my hostel is this:

80 cent pad thai on the street! I thought I couldn't be luckier. Rows and rows of pad thai until 3 AM for all the drunk backpackers to enjoy. But this is where I learned that grease does not always equal good. I wanted peanuts, I wanted mounds of egg, I wanted all the flavors to explode in natural-habitat-excellence. All the components I wanted were there, but it was just... greasy noodles. Street food. I should have known.

But here's where it got good: THE FRUIT. Fruit in this country blows my mind. So far I've eaten pineapple and watermelon off a street cart. Sticking my toothpick into a freshly cut slice, I was wowed by the sweetness, the juicyness, the purity of the fruit here. I guess that's what happens when you skip all the shipping and packaging of American fruits.

At the Kanchanburi floating market, this woman MADE me buy her fruit. She literally took a piece and STUFFED it in my mouth as I walked by and then had a bag ready for me to buy. I didn't regret it though.

The fruit vendor who made us buy from her.

The Rambutan and the Mangosteen are incredible. Hard to pry open, the white fruit inside both are worth the work.

Rambutan and Mangosteen

Mangosteen innards: This fruit WON. The insides are juicy and sweet. Like, an orange, the fruit is easily sectioned and is almost like popping candy.

Rambutan innards: Also good, but no comparison to the mangosteen. Kind of chewy instead of juicy, and its pit is just a hurdle. Worth it though, for a good snapshot with the scary peel.

Today was an eating adventure. I learned that Thais don't really differentiate between breakfast and other meals. At nine AM, we stumbled on this grungy stall and tried our luck:

After much consideration, we ordered:

Shrimp omelet

Veggies in oyster sauce

Pineapple fried rice

Monica and Eli ranked the dishes: 1. omelet, 2. rice, 3. veggies. I ranked them: 1. veggies, 2. rice, 3. veggies. I never like veggies best... I think my body was trying to tell me something. Too much fried pad thai! But my justification is that the omelet was pure grease, I couldn't even taste the egg and the plate was a pool of oil when we finished. Still great though, grease always is.

Put next to our food was a big bottle of ketchup and a soup of jalepeno peppers. Eli tried the spicy sauce and proceeded to immerse himself in rice. Too spicy. But the ketchup was great. It's not really ketchup, more of a sweet/spicy red sauce, and we basically covered everything in it.

I have a traveling challenge, which is that my companions are both vegetarian. Hence ordering PINEAPPLE fried rice, of all things. But, lo and behold, the Thais shined upon me and put chicken in everything. So: They tried.

Vegetarians suck!
Eli got a big piece of fat in his chicken. He spit it out. It was a bad first shot. But he promised me he would try again soon. (When it was worth it.)

Despite the hour for this kind of food, and despite the meat, and despite the grease, we finished.

... and done!

O'Rourkes

O'Rourkes: A Wesleyan Staple. The classic diner that my dad told me about from his Wes days in the 70s. Steamed cheeseburgers and Brian O'Rourke's gruff demeanor. When it burned down last year, a piece of Middletown literally went down with it. We've been substitution O'Rourkes vibe with Athenian, a classic greasy spoon Greek diner down the road. It's good, we love Athenian, and it's open 24/7. But we, and I say we with confidence that everyone does this, always get the same thing and life should be more exciting than that. So... now that O'Rourkes is back and better than ever, I have to go there AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. And really, I love it.

The charm of O'Rourkes is in everything. It's the grimy lunch-box container exterior with a line out the door and down the street. It's Brian's free lemon-poppy cake appetizer, and the way he personally brings you hot-off-the-griddle snacks (still on the spatula) while you're waiting on line. It's sharing a table with strangers and bottomless cups of coffee. It's the variety... every possible omelet filling God (Brian) has ever dreamed up.

Last week they even brought out the blender whipper filled with pistachio batter and walked table to table with spoons. Where can you find that kind of home-style goodness these days?

I have now been to O'Rourkes three times. First time: "Omelet of my Dreams", meaning carmelized onion pesto (I know, you don't know what that means. I didn't know either. I've decided it's just carmelized onion in a sauce of pesto consistency. It's REALLY good), plum tomatos and hollandaise sauce all over. The thing about O'Rourkes is that you don't always get what you think you're going to get, so it came with red peppers instead of tomato. I really don't like cooked peppers, they're in my top 3 foods I don't like, but I ate this omelet only because of my immense trust in Brian, and now, I might like peppers. Whoddathunk?
Second time: "Cuisine Art", meaning avocado and tomato and veggie hash. But the clincher was in the brown bread, the kind that is probably home made somewhere in Ireland with all the densest carbs that exist. It was so... real. I wanted a big loaf of it in my belly.
This time: Jay Seeley's Santa Fe. Look:

Omelet filled with black beans and cheddar, topped with guacamole, sour cream, salsa, chili and onions. It was more of a scavenger hunt than an eating experience. Each bite was dependent on the right combination on your fork, as well as being well aware to save a bit of each topping for the end and to not overpower the egg. Complicated stuff, this eating thing. But it was really good. My friend Jenny's dad wisely said, "I always go for a simple omelet. Unless it's Mexican."

Take a closer peek:

Jenny opted for a more manageable selection, although sophisticated without a doubt. Her "plum tomato pesto omelet " was filled with sun dried tomatoes, plum tomato pesto, spinach pesto, and cheddar (her own substitution for American cheese.) (side note on American cheese: it's my favorite cheese for omelets because it's not about taste, but texture and melt-ability. Sometimes you want the veggies to stand out, not the cheese. It's all about the ooze.) She like it, it was good. But not to die for, and sometimes you should just stick to what you want, not what you think you should get.

But we finished, have no fear. We never don't finish.


Another successful visit.