Raising a family in Thailand // Documenting Issan food, culture, music, and people
This was at the very end of last year. This cafeteria-type place near our friend’s bakery (the legendary Sang-R-Thit) has since closed down, but it was good while it lasted. This plate was pork panang and long bean stir fry with an egg from khai palo (five spice stewed pork belly and hard boiled eggs). All together about $1.75 US. The food at this place was pretty good, especially at those prices.
“Potak” apparently means “shipwreck,” although I haven’t confirmed it beyond a Google search.*
This may be considered a variant of Tom Yum Goong, although it really depends on who’s making it. Some online recipes describe it as Tom Yum soup with nam phrik pao (roasted chili paste) added, but every version I’ve had has been much more than that – some are more sour, some have a pinkish stock, some are clear, and some, as above, are packed with herbs. Either way, when we find versions we like, they are usually superior to Tom Yum Goong (which also comes in many versions, the most popular overseas version being the creamy style with coconut milk). Just looking at this photo makes my mouth water with anticipated sour garlic spice explosions – we will visit this place (near Nam’s uni) again, soon.
*Update: After some more research, the “Po” in “potak” refers to a fishing pontoon used in the south of Thailand. “Tak” means “break.” So this word compound refers to when a pontoon breaks off (e.g. during a storm) and floats away. My best guess as to a specific kind of pontoon (there are many, including floating docks and piers) is described by this page as a “bamboo stake trap” set in shallow or deep water. I will archive some photos from that page and others here:
I need to go check these out in person sometime, they look fascinating.
Thai meatballs (luk chin or look chin, depending on your preferred Romanization) are, like sausage, popular and of mysterious formulation — you never really know what they’re made of, even after eating them. More important, however, is the dipping sauce. Good dipping sauce has saved many a bad meatball, and sauce is actually one of the most important aspects of Thai culture.
It was hard deep frying inside the house until we upgraded our Electrolux hood with a 1HP Mitsubishi blower on our roof.
If I had to describe it in two words, I might say “peppery” and “fishy” – which is strange, because I hate most fishy things. For some reason, it really works with this soup, although not everywhere makes it fishy. This soup is a bit rare and old school, but I’ve found it’s an excellent indicator that you should try other less common dishes on the menu if it’s good. Places that don’t have fresh ingredients all the time won’t bother to make this.
Pork fried rice – in its purest form, but I can’t remember how this one actually tasted. I never order fried rice outside, but Mina loves it. I prefer making it at home, unless it’s really good. I think this one was at my friend’s café out on the Maha Sarakham ring road; the food is pretty good there.
Behold, dragonfruit ribs on my ghetto oil can smoker!
There were no leftovers that day.
I tried making a barbecue sauce out of red dragonfruit at the end of last year. It was colorful and pretty tasty, but nothing is coming close to the mango BBQ sauce I like making every year during mango season.
This is our typical order at Sampeenong, our favorite Isan food joint in the area.
Gai Yang (grilled chicken)
Somtam Lao (Lao-style Papaya Salad)
Tap Wan (literally, “sweet liver”)
Kor Moo Yang (Grilled Pork Neck)
And here’s my homie, Aot, working on a new coffee drink in a Chemex at his coffee stand in front of the restaurant:
