MEMORIES OF INLE LAKE
Portraits from Inle Lake. CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: A march of chedis along the shore of a second lake south of Inle. A floating pagoda at the south end of the lake. Two small monklets play at a rural market by the lake. Pa-O women at the same market at the far end of the southern lake.
WHEN I FIRST traveled to Burma, in the early 1980s, foreigners were given a one-week visa, and nothing more. They were allowed to visit Rangoon and a triangle of places in the middle of the country: Bagan, Mandalay, and Inle Lake. Some people hit all three, taking short plane hops to manage the feat. I opted for sinking into one place and so flew straight up to the lake.
Only three other guests were staying at my small guesthouse in Yaunghwe, the old Shan capital next to the lake: a young doctor from Rangoon, her brother, and his wife. The brother worked for the Burmese Broadcasting Corporation doing radio news. The siblings both spoke beautiful English. It was not only a pleasure to listen to, but also a great bit of luck, for we could have easy conversations about anything and everything.
Many years later, at a hospital opening in Dawei (see “Meeting Monk,”), I was introduced to a fine-looking man from Inle Lake, dressed in a beautiful Shan-style suit. He looked vaguely familiar. I told him that I’d visited Inle Lake the first time I came to Burma. “Where did you stay?” he asked. “In a small, friendly guesthouse called the Inle Inn,” I replied. He responded, “Then you stayed with me!”
These days Inle Lake is a favorite tourist destination. Accommodations range from family-run guesthouses to exquisite hotels. But even with the growth in tourism the lake remains beautiful—and mysterious too. The Intha people live in villages that float on wooden stilts in the lake, and they grow tomatoes on floating islands. Lively village markets are full of fresh food. All the local people—Shan and Pa-O as well as Intha—welcome visitors warmly.
A fisherman with his net in the shallow waters of Inle Lake, with the Shan Hills in the background. The lake is rich in nutrients, home to many fish, and boasts floating islands where the Intha people grow tons of tomatoes for shipping to Rangoon.
herbed catfish laap
[LAAP PLA]SERVES 4 OR 5
From the old Tai Koen capital Chiang Tung, also known as Kengtung, in the mountains of eastern Shan State comes this wonderful take on fish.
Laap dishes are made of chopped fish or meat dressed with aromatics. Here the fish is poached whole in a little broth flavored with lemongrass and galangal, then flaked off the bone and finely chopped. The cooking broth is combined with a flavor paste of grilled aromatics to make a dressing for the fish. The list of ingredients is long because of the variety of herbs that are added just before serving. If you are missing one or two kinds of herbs, don’t worry, just increase the quantity of the others.
One 2-pound cleaned catfish (or 2 smaller ones), well rinsed, or another firm-fleshed freshwater fish, such as pike, pickerel, or trout
4 shallots
5 garlic cloves
5 dried red chiles
2 cups water
2 stalks lemongrass, trimmed and smashed
1 teaspoon shrimp paste (ngapi; see Glossary)
1 teaspoon turmeric
¾ teaspoon salt, or to taste
Peanut oil
2 tablespoons minced lemongrass
2 to 3 tablespoons tender coriander leaves
2 to 3 tablespoons minced scallion greens
1 tablespoon minced mint
1 tablespoon chopped Vietnamese coriander (see Glossary)
1 tablespoon chopped tender green tips of sawtooth herb (see Glossary)
If using catfish, preheat a gas or charcoal grill, or heat a large wok or pot over medium-high heat. Lightly brown the catfish skin by exposing it to the flame or hot surface just long enough that the skin sears and browns. Remove from the heat and rinse the catfish, rubbing it clean. If not using catfish, then just rinse the fish.
If you haven’t heated a grill, heat a cast-iron or other heavy skillet over medium-high heat. If using the grill, thread the shallots, garlic, and chiles onto skewers (this will make it easier to turn them and control the cooking process). Put the shallots, garlic, and chiles on the grill or in the skillet and cook, turning occasionally, to soften them. Be careful that you cook the chiles just until they are softened, not burned black, which would make them bitter. The shallots and garlic will take
longer; cook them until they are softened with some black patches on their skins. Set aside to cool for a moment. Add the soybean disk to the grill, wok, or skillet and toast for 30 seconds to 1 minute, until pale but not scorched.
Meanwhile, combine the water, lemongrass stalks, shrimp paste, galangal, and turmeric in a large pot and bring to a boil. Add the fish and cook at a strong boil for about 10 minutes, turning it to ensure that all parts of it get cooked through. Lift the fish out and set aside in a large bowl to cool. Strain the cooking liquid and set aside in a bowl. (You will have about ¾ cup.)
Remove and discard the stems from the chiles, and remove the skins and any blackened patches from the shallots and garlic. Combine the chiles, shallots, and garlic in a food processor or large mortar and process or pound to a paste. Add the grilled soybean disk or the miso and salt and process or pound briefly to blend. (You should have about ½ cup paste.)
Stir the paste into the reserved cooking liquid to make the dressing and set aside.
Lift the fish flesh off the bones and transfer to a cutting board. Finely chop to reduce it to a smooth texture. Place in a wide shallow bowl and pour on the dressing. Mix well and set aside.
Put 1 to 2 tablespoons of oil in a wok or skillet and heat over medium-high heat. Add the minced lemongrass and stir-fry until crisp, 30 seconds to 1 minute. Lift the lemongrass out and set aside. Add the fish skeleton to the hot oil and fry until crisp and brown, 2 to 3 minutes. Lift out and transfer to a mortar or food processor. Add the fried lemongrass and pound or process to a powder.
Just before serving, add the powdered fish bones and lemongrass, toasted rice powder, and herbs, and mix well. Taste for salt, and adjust if necessary. Serve at room temperature.
SERVES 4
In Sittwe, the capital of Rakhine State, there’s a family-run restaurant off the main street that features home-style cooking. The butterfish I ate there was delectable, bathed in a hot sauce and served with a small side condiment of green chiles—they were pounded with salt and a little shrimp paste, to give a fresh chile hit on top of the chile oil’s heat.
Since butterfish is now listed as endangered, I make this dish and its Rangoon variation with black cod (rich and delicious) or with salmon. Check an online list and use whatever fish you can find that is rich in oils and nonendangered. The dish has an intense and lingering chile heat. Those who want to proceed cautiously can start by using only 1 or 2 teaspoons chile oil; this also allows you to adjust for variations in the heat of different chile oils.
Serve with plain rice or over couscous or wild rice to soak up the sauce. In winter, roasted celery root slices or pan-roasted potatoes are a great accompaniment; in summer, pair with crisp salad greens or a Burmese salad such as
Intensely Green Spinach and Tomato Salad with Peanuts.
About 1½ pounds fish fillets—black cod, salmon, or other rich fish
¼ teaspoon turmeric
Salt
½ cup minced shallots
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced ginger
2 tablespoons peanut oil
1 teaspoon shrimp paste (ngapi; see Glossary), or substitute 2 teaspoons fish sauce
Green Chile Paste (recipe follows)
Rinse the fish and cut into 1- to 2-inch pieces, pulling out and discarding any bones. Place in a bowl, add the turmeric and ½ teaspoon salt, and turn and mix to coat the fish. Set aside for 10 to 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, if you have a mortar, pound the shallots to a paste with a pinch of salt; set aside. Pound the garlic and ginger to a paste with a pinch of salt; set aside.
Heat the peanut and chile oils in a wok or wide shallow pot over medium heat. Add the shallots and cook for several minutes, until softened and starting to turn golden. Add the garlic and ginger, the shrimp paste, if using (not the fish sauce), and the chile powder and stir to dissolve the shrimp paste in the hot oil. Cook, stirring, until the shallots and garlic are softened, another couple of minutes.
Add the fish and the fish sauce, if using, and cook for 2 minutes. Stir gently to turn the fish and cook for another minute or two, until the fish is just opaque throughout. Taste and adjust the seasonings if necessary, using salt or fish sauce.
Serve hot or at room temperature with the chile paste.
MAKES ABOUT ¾ CUP
8 green cayenne chiles
¼ cup hot water
⅛ teaspoon salt
Crush the chiles in a mortar, or use the side of a cleaver or chef’s knife to crush them on a cutting board. Slice each one crosswise into 3 or 4 pieces. Place in a bowl with the water and salt and set aside to soak until ready to serve.
fish with tart greens
A friend and I ate another memorable butterfish dish, this one at a restaurant in Rangoon called Aung Thu Daw. It was milder, without chile oil or green chile paste. Instead, the fish was cooked with tart local greens, a great pairing. I substitute sorrel or sawtooth herb (see Glossary) for the tart local greens used in the original.
Omit the chile oil and green chile paste, and increase the peanut oil to 3 table-spoons. When the shallots and garlic are softened, toss in 3 cups coarsely chopped sorrel or sawtooth herb and stir-fry for a couple of minutes, just until wilted. Then add the fish and proceed as above.
