I have traveled far and wide and now I have earned my spot on SITCA's website (the cooking school I attended in Thailand)... Jay and I both agree that my face seems to be stretched a little though I swear I didn't eat that much Thai food!

When I was in junior high in Alabama, some of my friends and I went through a brief phase when we listened to a band of longhaired rockers called ‘The Cult.’ The Cult was a pretty popular rock band for a long time with plenty of worthwhile albums and even a greatest hits CD. At the time of our 'Cult' phase, I think their most popular song was a wonderful little ditty called ‘Fire Woman.’ It was not Fire Woman, though, but a different tune of theirs dancing through my head during our last week in Thailand. The song I couldn’t escape from was called ‘Bangkok Rain.’ 'Bangkok Rain' didn’t win any Grammy Awards that I’m aware of. Nor should it have. The song’s magnificently creative lyrics essentially describe someone sitting at a bar in Bangkok waiting for the rain to stop. But the rain doesn’t stop in Bangkok, so most of the song is a relentless – yet surprisingly catchy – screaming of the following chorus: “Bangkok rain keeps on […dramatic pause featuring rhythmic drum banging…] coming down!”

Given all this, I’m sure it will come as no surprise to anyone still reading, that, in fact, it rained a whole heck of a lot while Miranda and I were in Bangkok. And now maybe I will go to iTunes and buy that Cult album again just to play Bangkok Rain again. Like clockwork, really, we could expect every decent morning of humid sightseeing and spicy street food sampling to be followed by powerful afternoon and evening thunderstorms that lasted way into the night.

Due to the predictability of the rain, we were often looking for indoor activities to pass some of the time. One day I decided to treat myself to an authentic Thai foot massage. This was a little tricky. We had heard that there was a blurry line between massage parlor and brothel, that many times the masseurs will try to convince you to get your massage in some kind of seedy back room where anything goes. This wasn’t what I had in mind, so I looked carefully for an upstanding looking establishment. Around one corner I passed a well-lit place with three cheery young women singing, “massage,” as I walked by. The place had a wholesome name – Mama’s – and a wooden sign propped in the window reading “strictly nonsexual massage.” It doesn't get more upstanding than that, so I decided to try it out.

Well, I don’t know where the three cheery young women went, but when I sat down for my foot massage, out walked a very sturdy older woman with rippling forearm muscles and triceps as thick as my thighs. She said hello with a tight lipped smile and introduced herself: I had just met Mama, whom henceforth I will only refer to using her GLOW wresting handle, Big Mama.

Now, I haven’t really gotten many massages in my life, so I’m not sure what they’re supposed to feel like. What I can say is that Big Mama had hands of iron and fingers forged by steel. When she grabbed hold of my foot and clamped down, my pulse quickened, and I was just barely able to stop my face from contorting into a humiliating wince. Just relax, I reminded myself. This is a massage, for God’s sake. It’s supposed to make you feel good. But relaxing was pretty hard to do when all I could think about was what a humongous wimp I was being. After a while I managed to calm down, but then big Mama took out this wooden poker and started applying focused pressure to different spots on the bones of my toes and the balls of my feet. She pressed and pressed, using the full girth of her frame for better leverage. The pain was sharp and intense. When she dug into my big toe bone, I actually suppressed a yelp. It took all my energy to prevent my body from writhing under the pressure. I hated myself for being such a wimp, but it really hurt! Finally, I thought of Jack Bauer from the show 24 being tortured with knives, electricity and who knows what for inspiration to show no pain. If Jack could resist torture from the Chinese, but I couldn’t handle a foot massage in Thailand, what does that say about me? At the very least it says I am no secret agent. But had Jack Bauer faced off against Big Mama? No sir.

We are heading out of Thailand this morning after spending a great month here. These past few days we have been lying low and recharging before heading off to Cambodia today. We had a couple of memorable dinners with new companions here.

First we had a lovely dinner with Mithran and his fiancee, Pun. We were introduced to Mithran through my mom, who met Mithran on Zoetrope (a collaborative website for writers). They took us to a terrific restaurant where we dined riverside and got some great local info about Bangkok. Thanks Mithran and Pun!


Next, we reunited with our friends Melanie and Laurelle from the Waterfront in Koh Samui for a dinner at a great Thai restaurant near our hotel. We had lots of fun at dinner before they both jumped on a plane back to North America.


We are going to see Angkor Wat in Cambodia over the next few days. We are looking forward to seeing the world renowned temple area (and dreading its infamous heat!) Then we fly onto Hanoi to see Vietnam.

We woke up at an obscene hour. (And I don't mean obscene as in we have not been working for several months so any ordinary hour is obscene to us... this was legitimately early!) The alarm went off at 5:45AM and we quickly hurried to get ready in order to sneak in our complimentary breakfast before meeting our tour guide at 6:30AM. We knew little of what to expect on this tour. We had heard about it from a father and son pair, Allen and Victor, whom we met in Koh Samui. They had been traveling through SE Asia and this experience seemed to really stand out to them. So we booked it.

We met our guide, "Jerry" and hopped in his car and headed one and a half hours south of Bangkok in the opposite direction of the fierce rush hour traffic. Slowly the buildings grew smaller and the area less hectic. Jerry pointed as we passed a series of segmented farms covered in water. He explained these were in fact salt farms and immediately we began to pass tiny stands selling large bags of salt. A huge bag (about the size of a half bushel of apples) was selling for about a dollar.

Eventually, we were beyond the salt farms and turned off onto a dirt road. A couple more turns and we were clearly in a local neighborhood on a tiny dirt path. Jerry stopped the car and told us to hop out and pointed to a fisherman who would be leading our tour. While the fisherman spoke no English, he made it clear that we were to climb down a steep ladder onto a small long-tailed boat. Once settled, the diesel engine erupted and we headed off - although our speed did not match the boom of the engine...


Initially we meandered through the tiny muddy canals past small houses on huge bamboo stilts. The homes teetered high above the water and many had long tail boats hoisted under their homes or floating along side them. I was trying to take in the scenery. This small village was unlike any I had visited before.


The fisherman cut the engine and we came to a stop. I realized there was a person in the canal. The person turned towards us. Her head was covered with a traditional hat and her face obscured by a mask (like a ski mask). She was up to her shoulders in the water. The guide explained that in fact she was standing in mud up to her chest! (there was only a small layer of water covering the mud). Her hands foraged around and lifted cockles from the water. This work is incredibly taxing (imagine slugging through mud up to your chest all day long) and each kilogram of cockles only fetches about 70 cents at the market.


We then navigated into the Gulf of Thailand. The water stretched out before us, with small poles systematically poking out of the water to designate boundaries of each fisherman's farm.


Most fisherman have a land house (like the ones we saw initially in the town) and a sea house. The sea houses tend to be tiny huts on high stills where the fishermen sleep to guard their farms during the night.


We had been told before we left for the tour that we should bring some money for monkey food. Jay and I were both a bit skeptical. We have gone to great lengths to avoid the touristy and commercial spots where you can see wonderful animals often in miserable conditions. So when we heard about the monkeys, we tried to grin and bear it. Boy, were we wrong! We came near a mud flat and suddenly our fisherman guide started making a squawking, hooting call. We both looked intently trying to figure out what was happening. Suddenly, monkeys began emerging from the trees and climbing to the edge of the water next to our boat. Our guide handed Jay a bag of watermelon slices and he began tossing them to the eager monkeys.

After a couple of minutes, they told us the "superstar" monkey, Khao, was approaching. He is an all white monkey and he quickly leapt onto the boat and began helping himself to the watermelon slices. He ate rapidly with both hands and Jay had to battle to ensure there was still some watermelon left for the other monkeys waiting patiently on the beach.





He also pointed to some crazy looking creatures scouring across the mud. They are actually fish that run on land. Running fish?! They move too quickly for a decent pictures, but you can check them out here.

After the monkey visit, we traveled through the farms viewing the different types of seafood farmed in the village. In several cases the fishermen (and women) used a wooden "surfboard" to help them navigate the deeper waters or to provide a firm surface when they were harvesting shellfish on the mud flats.


The farms of mussels and oysters were also quite extensive.



After our tour, the fisherman brought us up to his own bamboo sea house for lunch. We had a delicious meal of fresh seafood all harvested earlier that day. We ate spicy and sour soup with fish, deep fried fish with shrimp paste, curried crab, fresh prawns and raw oysters with seafood sauce. Immediately following the meal, they asked us to lay on a bamboo cot while they ate their meals. At first we thought there was a communication break down. But we realized this was not the case, as they led us by the arm to the cot to lie down. We giggled at the thought of lying there, but did so dutifully.


It also gave us the opportunity to marvel at the construction of the house. We could see the lashings holding the structure together from our prone positions. And we were amazed to find out the house was put up by 10 men in only 20 days!


All in all it was a fascinating day. The tour was particularly special because they only take a maximum of three tourists a day into the village of 2,000, so it felt like a more intimate experiences than many of the "authentic" experiences you are offered while traveling. We leave with a deep respect for the work that goes into getting the seafood to our plates and appreciation to the fisherman for allowing us a little insight into a way of life we will never know.

One day in Koh Samui, I did the miraculous. I got up before 6AM to go jogging along Bophut Beach before the other tourists came out to play. Know what? It's hard to jog on the beach. Yer feet slip and slide everywhere, and sometimes they sink even. Nevertheless, jogging on the beach in Thailand provides much better scenery than jogging on a treadmill in Manhattan, so I was all smiles as I lumbered down the beach.  After about twenty minutes of slowly trudging down the beach in one direction, I turned around and headed back towards our hotel.

A few minutes into the return, I was very, very tired. It seemed that the more tired I got, the more the sand slipped under my feet, and the less traction I had. At least it was too early in the day to be hot, I thought happily, and plodded onward. Next I tried to distract myself from my fatigue by changing the songs on my ipod. This worked pretty well, and I ran onward, with my head down and my fingers switching songs repeatedly.  Then I looked up for a second. What did I find but two very large and very intimidating water buffalos directly in front of me.  They were looking me in the eyes from the edge of the beach and the water, right in front of my path, snorting and breathing heavily in a very loud and scary way.  Well, I did not feel like issuing a challenge, so I snapped my head back down, and kept my eyes on my ipod. I checked again – a quick glance upward. Alas, they were still there.

My instinct was to run. Of course I was sort of doing this already, but unfortunately I was running right towards the giant water buffalos.  Another option - to turn around and run away - might have been more prudent. But by now I was too tired to run any other direction then towards my hotel. Also, truth be told, I totally lacked the capability to actually run fast enough to "get away” if they didn't want me to.  As I got closer, it appeared that the water buffalo were on a "leash" held by a little skinny boy who didn't look a day older than twelve, nor and inch taller than four and a half feet. I say "leash" because it looked more like yarn than a leash - maybe he was knitting them matching scarves. Sizing him and his leash up thus, I determined that he would be no help whatsoever in preventing the water buffalos from stomping all over me.

On the other hand, perhaps the mere fact that the buffalos allowed themselves to be on the "leashes" was a sign of hope... I tried to decide whether it made me feel better or not that the buffalos were on completely useless leashes held by a skinny kid. I think it did make me feel better for a moment, but then I remembered reading earlier in the Lonely Planet that the locals on Koh Samui were avid gamblers, and lucky for me, their favorite leisure activity was betting on water buffalo fighting. Just my luck that I would come across a pair of battle hardened water buffalo on my first jog in Thailand. No wonder the hotels in our village were cheaper than in Chaweng! Eventually I decided to go for it. So I slipped and slid to the top side of the beach, keeping my eyes down, switching songs on my ipod every two or three seconds now, and hoping for the best.  I’m typing this with all my limbs and vital organs in tact, so I made it safely, but I did not expect large water buffalos to be blocking my way and exhaling loudly in a menacing way as I passed. Later in the week I got up early again for an early run and saw that the kid was "running" the water buffalos early in morning presumably to work them out, I assume to make them better fighters. All that loud breathing when I saw them before was probably from their workout - they were tired of running on the sand too, so there was no chance they were going to waste energy goring me or stomping me into oblivion. Whew!

I didn’t have much trouble keeping busy while Miranda spent her last few days in Koh Samui mastering the secrets of Thai cooking at SITCA in an intensive course. For three days I joined in the fun. After a morning *run* on the beach, I would clean up and accompany Mirm from our hotel in Bophut village on the fifteen minute trip to her cooking school amidst the busy streets of Chaweng village. There I also took a stab at learning the tricks of the trade in three “tourist level” half day classes. This arrangement worked out great for both of us, since we could travel to class together and then share, and eat, the fruits of our labor together at lunch. It worked out especially well for me, because no matter how much I messed up the dishes in my class, we always had seven or eight quality dishes from Miranda’s class to fall back on.

A nice, outgoing teacher named Yung taught my classes. Yung laughed a lot, and she credited her jovial mood to a mysterious mushroom tea she drank each morning before class. Yung led a fabulous class, which usually consisted of about five to seven other students, with plenty of other beginners eager to learn how to make a few Thai dishes. The menus usually included a curry dish (we made green, red, and “spicy red” curries), with the curry paste made from scratch, a traditional Thai soup called Tom Yum Soup, and a stir-fry or noodle dish like phad thai. Fortunately, some of being around Mirm’s cooking had rubbed off on me, and I was able to keep up pretty well as a result of having passable knife skills (for an ordinary human).

As for the superhuman knife skills in our family, each day the students in my class would ask about Miranda’s two week class, and watch in awe as she busily prepared one dish or another in the pro course. It seemed like every time we looked over at her, she was just finishing carving some ornate floral design on a previously bland looking fruit or vegetable!

By the end of my third class I could make an acceptable curry paste. But what I was most proud of was that I had doubled the amount of fresh red chilis I could tolerate in my Tom Yum soup (eight). This of course was nothing compared to Yung, who, perhaps under the influence of the odd looking mushrooms in her tea, only laughed as she tossed everyone's extra chilis into her Tom Yum Soup. One day she added twenty chilis to a portion of soup intended for just two people! It was liquid fire. Nevertheless, I felt eight chilis was a worthy accomplishment for my wimpy American palate.

After my last class, I even received a “certificate of participation” for “Basic Thai Cooking.” Thank you for playing! With any luck, I can parlay my newfound certification into a promotion in the Albany Stamps house from kitchen cleaner extraordinaire up to sous chef when we get home and have a kitchen again!

Going to the hospital is probably the experience I dreaded most on our trip. But unfortunately, it had to be done and luckily, it gave me something to write about too. I was sick for several days before finally conceding to go to the hospital. At the time, I was feeling OK, so I was able to fully appreciate the scene that was the Bangkok Hospital Samui. This hospital was completely unlike any hospital I have ever seen in the US. When we pulled up in the car, a man dressed as a bell hop came and opened our doors. We walked up to the reception desks and were greeted by women dressed as hotel receptionists.

Once I had registered, a nurse led us to the International wing of the hospital. As we walked by, Jay and I both noted the computers available for free web surfing while hanging out at the hospital. In the next wing, I was greeted by a nurse decked out from head to toe in the movie classic nurse outfit - all white, fitted skirt, small hat and white high heels. What a hoot! The usual stats were taken and then I was off to the doctor.

Following my visit with a (somewhat) English speaking doctor, Jay and I were led to a lounge where we were offered tea, coffee, soda, English television and several English newspapers. Moments later (just as I settled into a good article actually), we were brought into another area to pay and await my prescription. The well-clad nurse delivered the prescription complete with a little gift bag. A gift bag?!

After we completed the obligatory customer satisfaction form, we were led back to the lobby to await a taxi. We waited just a couple moments for the taxi, before another woman appeared carrying a tray of bottled water - offering it to us for the journey. Seriously, this was too funny. And the whole thing took less than an hour and cost about $130. Try that in the US!

... And for those who are concerned, I am all healed now and back on the scene!

Fruit carving was part of my Thai cooking course as it is an important part of Thai cuisine. I was not, however, looking forward to this portion of the course. It seemed difficult, unachievable and a bit boring. Well, it turned out that I actually rather enjoyed carving. It shares the repetitive and almost meditative aspects that I enjoyed about cake decorating, along with the pleasant surprise at the end where I think, "Oh wow, I did that? Pretty cool."

I know I'm a dork, but here are a few pictures of my carving adventures...

My first melon...



Never have a spent so much time pondering a single potato...




An unfinished melon...


Tomato roses, cucumber leaves and scallion and chili curlies


These are actually soap carvings...

Assuming my usual carving position

How a coconut turns to all of its various coconut byproducts (coconut milk, coconut oil, etc)? No? Really? I was prepared for your answer, because before my class, I hadn't either. But don't worry, I have decided to tell you, anyway. If you have ever used coconut milk, it was probably just another neatly packaged can in the cupboard, opened without much thought as to how it arrived there... didn't they just crack the nut, and then pour the milk into the can? And as for coconut oil, well, most of us probably only think of it in terms of something you might break out sunning on the beach. But I witnessed the whole process of taking a coconut from fruit to finish the other day, I thought I would share it with you...

We begin with a whole aged coconut with a brown shell. The younger green ones have sweet milk inside and are good for drinking. The milk is not as sweet in the older ones, but these are better for extracting the cream and oil from... Removing the outer shell is quite an operation when you are only using a knife. Many thanks to my teacher Roong for the superb demonstration.


After removing the shell and emptying the coconut juice into this silver bowl, the next step is to remove the coconut meat from the inner shell. This handy-dandy "tool" is specifically designed to scrape out the coconut meat. I think its funny that the little guy has a face




Once the meat is removed, it is pressed to extract all the coconut milk.


This is then boiled to separate the coconut cream from the milk. Once the cream has started to separate (it looks a little curdled), the heat is turned off and the mixture cools. The cream rises to the top and it is then skimmed off. The clearer liquid at the bottom is saved for used in soups. The coconut cream is used for curries and desserts (and many other cooking uses).



Once the clear liquid is removed, the cream is poured back into the pot to yield coconut oil. This is an extremely messy process because as the coconut oil is rendered, the concoction spits furiously.

Slowly the solids begin to coagulate and the oil becomes completely separated from the solids.

The mixture is strained and voila! coconut oil.


The final products from the coconut * - coconut cream, coconut oil, fried coconut meat (to feed animals) and toasted coconut to include in dishes


*In the interest of full disclosure, my teacher grabbed a bag of freshly grated coconut (about the sum of 10 coconuts) to extract the coconut milk and then used fresh coconut milk to get the cream. The machinery at the market is much more efficient at extracting the milk, but its still a pretty low tech process.

Shredding the coconut and pressing the meat to extract the coconut milk.

The second week of cooking school went well, although I was eagerly awaiting Jay's return. I had mentally prepared myself for a lonely time while Jay was away, but was secretly hoping to find some other solo travelers. I was a bit dismayed to discover that all the guests here at the small, but social hotel were here as couples (plus one family). Despite the bleak beginnings, of experimenting with the local restaurants by myself, I ended up meeting a wonderful group of people and we developed quite the crew during my second week here. Luckily, although they were all couples, they took pity on me and I was not relegated to spending every meal in this beautiful place by my lonesome

We had some great dinners and spent many hours chatting around the bar late into the evening. Jon and Caroline were in Thailand for a friend's wedding and were able to extend their holiday from Leicester in England for some relaxing time by the beach. Roz and Ralph were on a five month trip very similar to ours, after two more weeks in Bali they will be heading home to Ipswich, England. Sadly, Jay wasn't able to meet them because both couples left before Jay returned. Luckily, Drew and Alex were still here when Jay arrived, (so he didn't think I had a bunch of imaginary friends). They are from Toronto and will be moving to New York in July. Hopefully I will be able to introduce some of you to them once we are home.

Roz, Alex and Caroline (and me!)


Sampling my fare from cooking school...

Roz, Ralph, Caroline and Jon


(Somehow I failed to end up with a picture of Drew...)

It took me about 27 hours to get to Thailand from Birmingham, including a couple of decent layovers in Dallas and Tokyo. Lucky for me I had an unbelievably easy time in Thai customs at the Bangkok airport at midnight, and then I grabbed a little shuteye before my early morning flight to reunite with Miranda in Koh Samui. Total time from Birmingham to Koh Samui including all stops, sleep, and transit: 36 hours.

On my flight to Bangkok from Koh Samui I relearned an old lesson: Grasshopper, never take a large bite into a pastry when you don’t know what’s inside it. Sadly, this lesson came just after I greedily shoved a pastry full of savory bean flavoring into my mouth. Unfortunately for me, I was expecting it to taste like it looked – sweet. Maybe it was being forced to watch the deadly double feature of Tim Allen in Wild Hogs and Nicholas Cage in Ghost Rider on my earlier flights that caused me to temporarily loose my sanity and bite into breakfast without checking to see what it was. Regardless, when I chomped into the surprising bean pastry, I realized that, yes, I was officially back on our trip.

Even though I was on the 6AM flight from Bangkok, Mirm greeted me at the airport with a wonderfully big smile and an even bigger hug. We chatted on a short ride to the hotel, and then ate some real breakfast: crepes and honey (although, to be fair, the crepes were mislabeled as “pancakes” on the menu). After breakfast, Mirm went off to cooking school. I pretty much went straight to the bed before she had closed the door on the way out.


(Mirm making a scrumptuous lunch!)

Despite the travel fatigue, though, my best decision of the day was to drag my jetlagged self out of bed and accept Miranda’s invitation to meet her at cooking school for lunch to see where the magic happens. When I got there, I was greeted by a very friendly staff and was led into the kitchen to say hello to Mirms. A few minutes later she finished up, and we went upstairs into a room filled with all of the goodies Miranda and her classmate Govind had made that morning. There was a stunning spread on the table. Suddenly I was extremely – extremely – glad Miranda was taking this class. There must have been at least eight courses, all prepared while I was trying to snore away my jetlag. A seafood salad, a few different curries, a wonderful tom yum soup, and several sweet smelling meats wrapped in delicate leaves were among the many beautiful dishes that decorated the long dining table.



We ate for a long time but barely made a dent in the banquet. There was far too much food to eat it all, even with me there, so we sampled tastes of all the dishes. While we ate I peppered Miranda, Govind, and their teacher with questions about the food. Then we went out for a break before their afternoon session and got hour-long foot massages. Miranda and Govind returned for their afternoon session, while I walked around town and took a gander at the beach. When I returned a few hours later I found another feast with seven different courses beautifully displayed on the table, and most importantly, ready for our immediate consumption.



Seriously, this is the life out here. Today my day was similar, but it also included a mini, tourist-level, morning cooking course for myself, eating lunch from the spoils of both my course and Miranda’s, and I plan on ending it with a nap in the hammock by the beach in front of our hotel. Let it be known that I know and appreciate how lucky I am.

So last week I was back in the Magic City, known on your trusty map as Birmingham, Alabama, for my oldest friend Matthew Boehm’s wedding to his beautiful, charming new wife Leslie. Matt & Leslie had their reception by my favorite Birmingham icon, Vulcan Park atop Red Mountain. For those of you who don’t know, The Vulcan is the largest cast iron statue in the world! I had a wonderful time catching up with so many friends and family in Alabama, and one of the questions folks had for me was “what do I miss most?” Since Mirm has been in cooking school, I thought it would make sense to answer this question in terms of food.

One would think that after so long away, I would crave some fine dining, or wonderful Southern food. My main food craving, surprisingly, was not barbecue (which of course I still did eat plenty of, being in Birmingham and all) but Mexican style food. I say “Mexican style” food because what I was craving was anything that included good melted cheese – really just nachos, which I associate with times when I go out to Mexican or Tex Mex restaurants.

Once home, I basically ate as many nachos as humanly possible. Like a man possessed, I only deviated briefly from my nachos diet a few times, usually when presented with good Southern food like fried chicken, my mom’s low country boil, cheese grits, and of course barbecued pork. Here’s a good example of my nacho frenzy. One night soon after I arrived in Birmingham, I went out to a fun dinner with my great friend Warren and his wonderful wife Leigh Marriott at a popular place in Birmingham called Rojo’s. We ordered chips with queso dip as a shared appetizer. That hit the spot, but apparently I couldn’t get enough melted cheese, because then, to the surprise of my friends, I just went ahead and ordered a heaping plate of loaded nachos for my main course. It was a good plate of nachos, too. The cheese was melted perfectly – it wasn’t overly glopped in the middle – and there was enough cheese for every chip. I would have ordered another plate for dessert if I could have.

In case the theme isn’t clear here, I became a freak who ate nachos with melted cheese again and again and again and again, regardless of the quality of the restaurant (although Rojo’s was a good place for them). In fact, I couldn’t even wait to get all the way home before ordering nachos. So, after four months away from home, the first meal I ate in the USA was at a Chili’s in the Dallas airport (during my five hour layover there). I sat at the bar, giddy, watching NASCAR, and wolfing down nachos with melted cheese, extra sour cream, and a green paste I believe was intended to resemble guacamole. Oddly, the same song that I couldn’t escape from the last time I was in the US was blasting in Chili’s, the song about having a bad day... at least it wasn’t the other song I couldn’t get away from before I left, the one by the weirdo with the voice like a pig squealing – the chorus is a screeching “You’re beautiful”. You’re welcome for the two awful songs stuck in your heads

Today is my first day off since starting my Thai cooking course at SITCA on Koh Samui a week ago. I am quite pleased to be having a day of relaxation because while I learned a lot, it has also required a level of attention and concentration that I haven't had to muster very often over the past few months.

The course is designed for cooking professionals (which I, of course, am not), but I decided to take it anyway. I wanted an intensive experience and Jay was going to be back in the US for a couple of weeks, so this seemed like a good way to entertain myself. The class covers at least 100 recipes over the 12 days and the last day is spent on the art of Thai fruit carving. Each day we start at 10AM and work our way through a wide variety of dishes - curries, soups, salads, desserts. Dishes are deep-fried, boiled, steamed, grilled and sauteed. We sit down to a hearty lunch then cook all afternoon ending up with a feast at dinner also. There are only two of us in the class - leading to lots of specific instruction. My classmate runs hotels in India, one of which has a Thai restaurant...

(It should be noted that I am writing this blog sitting outside looking at this view... I'll continue)


I decided that I needed a substantial course if I was going to conquer Thai cuisine because my solo efforts to create Thai dishes have been nothing short of disastrous. Of the five worst meals I have ever cooked, at least three of them were attempts to make Pad Thai. My first attempt was quite early in my relationship with Jay. We had tentative plans for dinner and I thought I would try out the famous noodle dish. It was in-eatable to say the least and I was overwhelmingly relieved when he postponed our plans. Had he held to the date, it would have been culinary suicide. The next notable failure was when Samara and I attempted it again a few years later. The result was a mushy mound of ugly noodles that had a pungent odor that rang of nothing other than smelly feet. I'm not kidding, it really smelled like feet! So I knew if I was going to devote some time to learning a cuisine, Thai would pay-off - certainly after two weeks I should be able to muster a meal that is at least mildly eatable!

As a result of this traumatic past, I have tried to be that much more diligent in the course. Taking lots of notes and pictures of the dishes in the hopes of having some of the information sink in. It has been a barrage of new ingredients - fish sauce, oyster sauce, multiple kinds of shrimp paste, eight kinds of eggplant, all types of soy sauce, palm sugar, pandan leaves, banana flowers, fresh green peppercorns and so many more. The ingredients that make the biggest mark are the assortment of chilies. Prior to this experience, I viewed myself as having an above average tolerance for spiciness when compared to the average American palate. But oh have I been ridiculed!

After a few too many scorching dishes, I began to wonder if I needed to change my approach. In one memorable incident, I tasted one of the dishes and fatefully licked my lip. For the next hour, my lip pulsed and burned and I knew something had to be done. Surely when I made this dish at home, I would need to know how it would taste without setting fire to myself and my guests. I started shunning the abundance of chilies placed before me. I would still include them, but made sure to carefully toss at least half of the little monsters off of my prep station before beginning the dish. This is met with laughter each time I discard them and then my instructor happily snatches them up and tosses the little buggers into her own dish. I have also learned to ignore comments like "Oh, this is a sweet sauce, it is not spicy at all". This only means that although your brain initially sends a signal that a little bit of sugar has arrived on your tongue, before the hammer falls and your mouth roars with heat. These incidents also tend to leave the people around me giggling as I scramble to find a cooling rescue.

[I started to worry that this meant I was a total spice loser. Perhaps, my self-image had been all wrong and in fact I had less tolerance for spice than a newborn! Last night I felt I had to know. I went to a restaurant and ordered red curry. This is a dish I loved at home, but it left me in tears when I tasted it in class. I felt I needed to face my fear head on. I ordered the dish at a restaurant, knowing others had found this same dish quite spicy and braced myself for humiliation, but alas you will all be glad to know that I survived without incident. It barely tasted spicy... ]

After a couple of days in class, I woke up one morning and my finger tips were burning severely. I tried to ignore it all day, but my fingers were on fire and I started to wonder if I might be having an allergy. There are so many new ingredients, so much shellfish, maybe there was something I was allergic to? I did what we all do when we need medical advice.... I searched online. Funnily enough, one of the first articles that popped up was a discussion board about what to do when chopping chilies has left your fingers burning and no amount of hand washing can cure it. I laughed at myself and by the end of the week my fingers seem to have adjusted slightly...

One of the most pleasant surprises of the class has been the desserts. I had never eaten any Thai desserts before this course. Not only are they a safe-haven from spiciness, but they are also very delicious. I was apprehensive at first, but many of the dishes have a unique flavor, but hit the spot when you want a sugar fix.

Here are a few shots from class.

Famous spring rolls - you have to love 'em


Spicy eggplant salad


2 desserts: Pumpkin custard and Pandan Pudding with Coconut Cream. Yum!


Approaching a chicken Thai style... Mastering whole birds is definitely not for the faint of heart here... I have to keep reminding myself, how lame it would be to become a vegetarian as a result of getting squeamish in a cooking course.


A chili bar at the local supermarket - the smaller the meaner!

Jay and I had a fabulous time in Japan, but all good things have to come to an end and on Saturday we had to temporarily part ways. Jay has made his way back home to Birmingham in the US, while I have forged ahead to Thailand. Jay's oldest friend, Matt Boehm will be marrying Leslie next weekend and, of course, he wanted to be there. (Congratulations Matt and Leslie!!!) So off he went!

I headed onto Koh Samui where I am going to be taking a cooking class here for the next two weeks. Jay will be back here to meet me in about a week and a half and we will continue our adventure around SE Asia. Not much else to report. Cooking school starts tomorrow, so hopefully that will provide some fodder for the blog.