In general terms, a Thai curry begins with a paste that is fried in a wok or saucepan before being dissolved into a liquid. Frequently, that liquid will be coconut milk; in the north and northeast, which is not coconut country, it will tend to be water.
So far, so straight-forward. But you will have noticed that I haven’t told you what to fry the curry paste with. Most of the recipes that follow instruct you to use vegetable oil. This is not technically correct, though it is convenient.
The Thai convention is to ‘crack’ coconut cream – the thick bit in an unshaken can of coconut milk, or the stuff sold separately. This is done by heating the coconut cream in your wok or saucepan to separate its water from its fat, which you will see happening. You then fry the paste in that fat. However, most commercial coconut milk and cream use emulsifiers to ensure their longevity, and these inhibit the ‘cracking’ process. Without access to the fresh stuff, we must a) make it ourselves (you will find a recipe to do just that on the opposite page); b) find a product without the preservatives and chemicals; or c) use something else, hence vegetable oil. Some may sneer, but I view it as a small sacrifice to make, and most people won’t notice the difference.
The quality of coconut milk varies enormously from brand to brand. Even so, I always have a couple of cans in the cupboard, ideally without additives. Aroy D, a Thai brand, is excellent. Above all, avoid the dried blocks of coconut ‘something’. They are abominable.
As for the pastes themselves, each recipe that follows will tell you how to make the one that’s relevant. This does not mean that you have to every time. Most Thai home cooks buy their pastes in the market or supermarket.
If you can source all the ingredients, and you have the time and the inclination, make the paste, if only for the experience. If you find that you prefer the flavour of a fresh paste, as I do, build its making into your schedule. I’ll often make pastes a day or two ahead of time, just to have one less thing to do when I finally cook. Don’t worry if you can’t be bothered: store-bought paste will work just fine.
Having said that, there are good pastes and not-so-good pastes. My favourite is the Nittaya brand. Next comes the Mae Ploy and Mae Pranom brands – they are all vacuum-packed rather than canned, which I prefer. When using one of these, replace my paste with 2 heaped tablespoons of bought. Better yet, go to Thailand, visit a market, and buy some fresh pastes. Many stalls have the wherewithal to vacuum-seal them for your trip home.
With a screwdriver and a mallet (and a willing helper), puncture the three eyes at the top of the nut. Drain out the water and discard it. Place the coconut on newspaper on the floor, and set about it with a hammer until it cracks open – I average about two solid blows.
Grate the coconut flesh away from the shell. The Thais have a handy tool for this, which allows you to hold the shell in one hand and grate away. If you don’t have one, prise the meat away from the shell with an oyster knife and grate the flesh with a box-grater. This is a more wasteful process, because the curve of the coconut means the flesh will not be flush with the grater, and some will get left behind. But, as someone said, waddaya gonna do?
Soak the grated coconut in lukewarm to hot water (allow 230 ml/8 fl oz/scant 1 cup per coconut) and squeeze the milk out of the flesh by hand for a few minutes. Squeeze out the coconut over a sieve (strainer), reserving the milk in one bowl and the flesh in another, then repeat the process. Finally, strain both batches of coconut milk through muslin (cheesecloth) into another bowl. All in all, it should take you about 1 hour 15 minutes and yield about 1 litre/1¾ pints/4 cups of coconut milk. Once it has settled, the rich coconut cream will have risen to the top.
How many times have you seen a green curry described as ‘mild’ or ‘sweet’? It infuriates me, and I’ve seen it done a thousand times. And it isn’t just Thai restaurants in Britain that do it. Several years ago, I took a boat down the river from Ayutthaya to Bangkok. As luck would have it, my husband and I were the only passengers and, after a long conversation with the crew, primarily about food, they promised to bin out the bland version they serve farang and to make it properly. And jolly good it was too: lively, fiery and delicious.
Part of the problem lies in how we translate the word waan. Generally, it means ‘sweet’. In this case, it should really mean ‘fresh’. This dish is all about bright, green flavours. The chlorophyll in the herbs should sing out like Maria Callas. This matter of freshness is the other reason for a poor green curry. Once the paste is made, it doesn’t matter how many preservatives they use in it, the inherent green freshness will deteriorate quickly, so a store-bought keow waan paste will always disappoint.
This is the one curry paste you should always make from scratch. It’s also the easiest, the best one to learn and practise on, and the best way to remember why the green curry became famous in the first place.
Serves 4
½ tsp coriander seeds
½ tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp white peppercorns
a good pinch of salt
1 tbsp finely chopped galangal
1 tbsp finely chopped lemongrass
2 Thai shallots or 1 regular shallot, peeled and finely chopped
12 green Thai bird’s eye chillies, de-stemmed and chopped
2 long green chillies, de-stemmed and finely chopped
4 tbsp finely chopped fresh coriander (cilantro) root (see tip), with some stem attached
1 garlic clove, peeled and finely chopped
2-cm/¾-inch piece of fresh turmeric, finely chopped
zest of 1 kaffir lime (see tip)
1 tsp kapi (shrimp paste)
for the curry
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 x 400-ml/14-fl oz can of coconut milk
350 g/12 oz chicken thighs, cut into 2-cm/¾-inch dice
1–2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
a pinch of caster (superfine) sugar (optional)
65 g/2¼ oz pea aubergines (eggplants)
2 Thai round aubergines (eggplants), cut into quarters
100 g/3½ oz bamboo shoots, chopped (see tip)
2 long red chillies, diagonally sliced into 3 pieces
a large handful of Thai sweet basil
1 long orange chilli (optional)
To make the paste: pound all the ingredients in a pestle and mortar (starting with hardest ingredients first, as listed, working down to the softest), until you have a uniform, close-textured paste. If it’s not completely smooth, don’t worry. If you prefer to use a food processor or a blender, again work from the hardest to the softest ingredients, and add about 1 tablespoon water or more to bring the paste together.
To make the curry: heat the oil in a wok or saucepan and fry the paste until it smells fragrant, about 1 minute. Add half of the coconut milk, bring to the boil slowly, stirring to dissolve the paste. Once the paste has dissolved, let the coconut milk simmer a little until you see oil appearing on the surface. Then add 200 ml/7 fl oz/scant 1 cup of water and bring to the boil.
Add the chicken and bring back to the boil, then add the rest of the coconut milk. Bring back to the boil and simmer for about 6 minutes. Add the nam pla and the sugar, if using. Taste and adjust the seasoning. If it seems a little thick, add a little more water – you want a soupiness, not a thick gravy.
Add the aubergines, the bamboo shoots and one of the long red chillies. Simmer for another 3 minutes or so. Taste – you want this to taste vibrant, hot, salty and herbaceous. Add the basil, the remaining red chilli and the whole orange chilli if you have one, and serve with some jasmine rice and Nam Pla Prik (Fish Sauce with Chillies, see here).
~ Sometimes, you cannot find coriander root. If you can’t, replace it with the same amount of coriander stem. It won’t taste quite the same, and it will give you a greener curry, but it works very well. ~
~ If you cannot find kaffir limes, leave the zest out of the recipe altogether. ~
~ You can buy bamboo shoots either canned or vacuum-packed in water. I prefer the latter. You can easily find them in most Asian stores. If you can only find them canned, don’t worry, they’re perfectly good. ~
~ In Thailand, coconut milk comes with a thick cream. Traditionally, you’d fry your curry paste in this cream, adding the coconut milk when the cream ‘cracks’ and you can see its oil separate out. This oil, which should always appear on the top of a good Thai curry, adds a particular and special flavour. However, the emulsifiers added to a lot of canned coconut creams and milks often prevent this. So, in this recipe, I have fried-off the paste in vegetable oil, which works perfectly well. ~
~ If you want to make this with beef, which is very traditional, serve with Roti (see here). ~
Note
No matter how many times you make this dish, the colour of the curry will vary. This is down to the quality and freshness of your ingredients. As the plants and fruits age, the green in their chlorophyll deteriorates. To punch up the green, add a few extra chopped coriander stems to the paste. A bit of a cheat, but it looks fabulous.
There are several iterations of the classic Thai red curry; in fact, the red curry paste is one of the most adaptable in terms of using it as a standard template from which to create others. So here is the recipe for a basic gaeng neua, or beef red curry, just as Prayoon taught me to make it. And opposite, I tell you how to pimp it up into a gaeng pet bpet, or red curry with roast duck, which is a much fancier proposition.
Serves 4–6 as a part of a meal
for the paste
8–10 dried long red chillies
4 dried bird’s eye (bird) chillies
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp coriander seeds
1 tsp white peppercorns
2 tsp kapi (shrimp paste)
a pinch of salt
2 tbsp chopped galangal
4 tbsp chopped lemongrass
1 tbsp chopped coriander (cilantro) root (see here)
4 Thai shallots or 2 regular shallots, peeled and chopped
4 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
zest of 1 kaffir lime
for the curry
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 x 400-ml/14-fl oz can of coconut milk
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce), or more to taste
1 tsp caster (superfine) sugar, or more to taste
350 g/12 oz beef, cut into strips
a squeeze of lime juice, if necessary
100 g/3½ oz bamboo shoots (see tip on here)
3 kaffir lime leaves, torn
To make the paste: toast the dried chillies in a dry pan over a low heat for a few seconds, being careful not to burn them. Set aside to cool, then use a pair of scissors to cut off the stems and slit them lengthways. Scrape out and discard the seeds. Cut the chillies up into small pieces and soak in warm water for 20 minutes or until soft.
Meanwhile, toast the cumin seeds, coriander seeds and peppercorns in the same pan until fragrant, about 30 seconds–1 minute. Set aside.
Wrap the kapi in aluminium foil, and toast it in the dry pan for 1–2 minutes and set aside.
Pound the paste in a pestle and mortar, starting with the dried chillies and salt and working from the hardest to the softest ingredients, in the order listed. When you’re done, it should be well amalgamated and pretty smooth.
To make the curry: heat the oil in a large saucepan, and fry off the curry paste until you can really smell it. Pour in half of the coconut milk, stirring it into the paste as it comes to the boil, until the paste is dissolved. Then add the rest of the coconut milk, along with 200 ml/7 fl oz/scant 1 cup water, the nam pla and sugar. Stir to incorporate. When the sauce comes back to the boil, add the beef and simmer until it’s cooked, about 6–8 minutes. Taste, and adjust the seasoning. You may need to add a little more nam pla and sugar, and perhaps a squeeze of lime. Finally, add the bamboo shoots and the lime leaves and simmer for another 3–5 minutes. Serve with rice.
This is a rather grander version of the red curry. You can roast some duck breast yourself for this, or you can simply buy some roast duck in your local Chinatown, and use about 350–400 g/12–14 oz of it instead. You can also replace the cherry tomatoes. Some people use pineapple or grapes, which I’m not so keen on. My friend Jao Fah adds lychees, which are delicious – use 8 here.
Serves 4–6
for the roast duck
2 duck breasts, skin on
2 tbsp dark soy sauce
1 tbsp caster (superfine) sugar
1 tsp Chinese five spice powder
for the curry
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 quantity of curry paste (recipe opposite)
½ tsp ground cloves
½ tsp grated nutmeg
½ tsp ground turmeric
1 x 400-ml/14-fl oz can of coconut milk
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1 tsp sugar
a squeeze of lime juice, if necessary
8–12 cherry tomatoes
3–4 kaffir lime leaves, torn
a handful of sweet basil
For the roast duck, marinate the duck breasts in the other ingredients for at least 30 minutes, or up to a couple of hours (in the refrigerator) if you have time.
Preheat the oven to 180°C fan/200°C/400°F/gas mark 6, and roast the duck on a baking tray, skin-side up, for 20–25 minutes for medium. Remove and set aside to rest and cool.
To make the curry: heat the oil in a large saucepan, and fry off the curry paste, along with the cloves, nutmeg and turmeric. Add half the coconut milk, stirring it into the paste to dissolve, and bring it back to the boil. Add the remaining coconut milk, 200 ml/7 fl oz/scant 1 cup water, nam pla and sugar and bring the sauce back to the boil, stirring to blend it together.
Slice the duck and add it to the curry. Taste and adjust the seasoning – you may need to add a little more sugar or nam pla, and perhaps some lime juice. Then add the tomatoes (or your chosen alternative) and lime leaves. Simmer for about 5 minutes, then add the basil and stir it in. Serve with rice.
This is a mild, southern curry, rich and redolent of the Spice Route, and a simplified version of the one our cook Prayoon used to make every Saturday lunchtime. She would serve this with sliced banana, peanuts and cucumber pickle on the side, or with Bombay duck and salted egg.
Vegans and vegetarians should note that this is the one curry paste I make without shrimp paste, so have at it. You can substitute the fish sauce with soy or with the Vegan Fish Sauce on here. In place of the chicken, use pumpkin or tofu or green papaya, or a mixture of the three. See the version opposite.
Serves 4 as a part of a meal
for the paste
8 long dried red chillies
seeds from 8 cardamom pods
1 tsp coriander seeds
2 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp black peppercorns
a good pinch of salt
a pinch of mace
1 stick lemongrass, finely chopped
3–4-cm/1–1½-inch piece of galangal, peeled and finely chopped
4–6 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
4 Thai shallots or 2 regular shallots, peeled and finely chopped
1 tsp grated zest of kaffir lime
4-cm/1½-inch piece of fresh turmeric, scraped and finely chopped
1½ tsp curry powder
½ tsp ground turmeric
for the curry
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 x 400-ml/14-fl oz can of coconut milk
200 ml/7 fl oz/scant 1 cup water
4 new potatoes or small potatoes, quartered
6 Thai shallots, peeled or 3 regular shallots, peeled and halved
400 g/14 oz skinned, boneless chicken thigh meat, cut into chunks
2–3 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1–2 tsp palm sugar
a squeeze of lime juice
to garnish
a handful of Thai sweet basil
a scattering of Thai shallots, finely sliced and fried until crisp (optional)
2 dried red chillies, fried until crisp (optional)
To make the paste: toast the dried chillies in a dry pan over a low heat for a few minutes, being careful not to burn them. Set aside to cool, then use a pair of scissors to cut off the stems and slit them lengthways. Scrape out and discard the seeds. Cut the chillies up into small pieces and soak in warm water for 20 minutes or until soft.
In the same dry pan, toast the cardamom seeds, coriander seeds, cumin seeds and black peppercorns until fragrant. Set aside.
Using a pestle and mortar, start pounding and grinding the paste ingredients, beginning with the chillies and the salt, and then working from the hardest ingredients on to the softest (in the order listed), making sure each ingredient is well incorporated before adding the next. You should end up with a homogenized paste – try to get it as smooth as possible, but don’t worry too much. You can do this in a blender, but you may need to add between 1–2 tablespoons of water to keep the paste from gumming up the blades, while making sure it does not become too loose.
To make the curry: heat the oil in a saucepan or wok over a medium heat, and then fry the paste until you can really smell all the spices, about 30–40 seconds. Add the coconut milk, and bring it to the boil, blending in the paste. Then add 100 ml/3½ fl oz/scant ½ cup of the water and stir it together. Add the potatoes and shallots, and bring back to the boil. Add the chicken and bring back to the boil again. If the sauce looks a little thick, add the remaining water.
Simmer gently for about 5–10 minutes, or until chicken, shallots and potatoes are cooked. Add the nam pla, sugar and squeeze of lime. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
Garnish with the handful of Thai basil at the last minute, the deep-fried shallots and the dried red chillies, if using. Serve accompanied with rice.
Variations
As with most curries, you can replace the main protein with pretty much anything you like. One of my favourite versions of this is called gaeng kari pla salmon fukthong, with salmon and pumpkin.
To make it, add 100 g/3½ oz peeled pumpkin, cut into 2-cm/¾-inch chunks, when you would have added the chicken and potatoes. Simmer for 10 minutes, until the pumpkin is cooked, add the lime juice and nam pla, to taste, and then add 200 g/7 oz skinned salmon, also cut into 2-cm/¾-inch chunks. It should take just 2 more minutes to cook the salmon. Remove from the heat, add a handful of Thai sweet basil leaves, and serve.
To make this completely vegan, add 250 g/9 oz peeled pumpkin and 150 g/5 oz peeled green papaya where you would add the chicken and potatoes. Simmer until the vegetables are cooked, about 10–15 minutes. Then season with lime juice and light soy sauce, to taste. Finally, remove from the heat and add the sweet basil.
~ When using fresh turmeric, you may want to wear disposable gloves. It STAINS. (Don’t use your favourite chopping board, either.) ~
~ If you want to use store-bought paste, I recommend Nittaya or Mae Ploy brands of yellow curry paste for this recipe. Use 2 heaped tablespoons in place of the home-made paste, and then follow the recipe as normal. ~
~ Each batch of paste – whether home-made or store-bought – will taste slightly different depending on its age and the strength of components, so always TASTE to avoid surprises! ~
This is probably the most complex of the Thai curries to make. And, while there are acceptable massaman pastes available to buy in the shops, it’s worth the effort to make from scratch because all the subtle fragrances of the freshly ground spices vanish if the paste sits around for too long.
Its complexity stems from the fact that the dish is not initially Thai. It either came to Thailand with spice traders in the Muslim south of the country, or (and this is my preferred story) it arrived at the Court of Siam with the first Persian envoys in the seventeenth century.
Most commonly, you’ll find it made with beef or chicken. I find it works beautifully with goat, and so I’ve used it here.
Photographed on here, bottom left.
Serves 4–6
for the paste
4 Thai shallots or 2 regular shallots
4 garlic cloves
1 coriander (cilantro) root (see here)
12 long dried chillies
1 cinnamon stick
1 tbsp cumin seeds
1 tbsp coriander seeds
a pinch of sea salt
2 cloves
seeds of 1 cardamom pod
¼ tsp black peppercorns
2 sticks lemongrass, bashed and finely chopped
¼ nutmeg, grated
1 heaped tbsp kapi (shrimp paste)
for the curry
2 tbsp ghee
400 g/14 oz goat, cubed
2 tbsp vegetable oil
4 Thai shallots, peeled or 2 regular shallots, peeled and halved
4 new potatoes, halved
2 tbsp coconut cream
1 x 400-ml/14-fl oz can of coconut milk
a handful of raisins (optional)
200 ml/7 fl oz/scant 1 cup water
2 tbsp tamarind paste (purée)
6 cardamom pods, broken open
1 tbsp palm sugar
1–2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1–2 tbsp roasted peanuts
To make the paste: preheat the oven to 180°C fan/200°C/400°F/gas mark 6.
Wrap the shallots, garlic and coriander root tightly in aluminium foil and bake in the oven for about 20 minutes, or until soft.
Meanwhile, in a dry frying pan (skillet), toast the dried chillies until they are crispy, shaking them in the pan to ensure they don’t burn. Set aside to cool, then snip them up into small pieces with scissors, discarding the stalks and the seeds. Soak the pieces in warm water for at least 20 minutes. Then dry them thoroughly with paper towels.
Toast the cinnamon stick, cumin seeds and coriander seeds in the dry pan until they’re fragrant. Then grind the paste, starting with the dried chillies and the salt, followed by the toasted spices, the remaining dry spices, and the lemongrass. Peel the shallots and garlic, cut the coriander root into small pieces, and pound them into the paste, followed by the grated nutmeg and the kapi. Keep grinding until the paste is as smooth as possible, and everything is thoroughly incorporated.
To make the curry: melt the ghee in a large frying pan, and gently brown the meat. You will need to do this in batches.
Heat the vegetable oil in a large wok or saucepan, then add the paste, and fry until it’s very fragrant. Add the meat, shallots, potatoes and the coconut cream, and stir them thoroughly into the paste. Then add the coconut milk, raisins (if using) and water, bring up to the boil, and simmer for 30 minutes.
Now add the tamarind paste, cardamom, palm sugar and nam pla and gently simmer, partially covered, for another 30–40 minutes, until the meat is tender. About 10 minutes before you finish cooking, add the peanuts.
Finally, taste the curry and adjust the seasoning. You’re looking for a sour start to its taste, which then develops in the mouth to become sweet and savoury.
Thai roti breads are akin to Indian paratha or Malaysian canai, and come from the Muslim south of the country. They can be served as a savoury accompaniment to curries, such as Gaeng Massaman (above) or the Gaeng Keow Wan made with beef (see here), or can be eaten smothered in butter and with condensed milk as a sweet treat.
Photographed on here, bottom right.
Makes 12
1 egg
4 tbsp milk
125 ml/4 fl oz/½ cup water
juice of ½ lime
½ tsp salt
1 tbsp caster (superfine) sugar
40 g/1½ oz/3 tbsp butter, melted
500 g/1 lb 2 oz plain (all-purpose) flour, sifted
125 ml/4 fl oz/½ cup vegetable oil, for coating and frying
In a large bowl, beat the egg with the milk and water until well combined. Add the lime juice and mix well. Add the salt and the sugar, then add the melted butter. Add the flour gradually, mixing as you go – you may not need all of it. When it is thick enough to handle, mix with your hands until it comes together to form a dough. Using any leftover flour to sprinkle over a cool work surface, knead the dough for about 5–8 minutes until you have a smooth ball.
Divide the dough into 12 pieces. Roll each piece into a ball. Coat each ball with oil, place in a bowl and leave to rest, covered with a damp dish towel, for 2 hours.
When the resting period is up, use a rolling pin to roll out each piece of dough into a square as thin as you can. Taking the dough by a corner, carefully twist each piece into a rope and then coil each rope into a snail-shaped roll. Flatten each one with the palm of your hand and roll out again into discs about 16–18 cm/6–7 inches in diameter.
Heat a smallish frying pan (skillet) and add a little oil. When hot, gently fry each roti, one at a time, on both sides until golden brown. You may need to replenish the oil as you go. Remove and serve warm. Before eating, slap the roti from hand to hand to make it extra flaky.
This is one of southern Thailand’s most famous curries. It is fragrant, a little salty and fiercely hot. And, despite its fame, it is unusual among the Thai curries for its dryness. There is no oil used in its cooking, and it has no sauce.
This recipe makes a large portion, but if you have leftovers, you can use them in a Thai omelette or serve them in lettuce cups as you would laarp.
Photographed on here, top left.
Serves 4–6
for the paste
15 dried red bird’s eye (bird) chillies (see tip)
10–12 fresh red Thai bird’s eye chillies, coarsely chopped
a good pinch of salt
1 tbsp black peppercorns
3 sticks lemongrass, bashed and chopped
2 tbsp chopped galangal
6 large coriander (cilantro) roots (see here), chopped (or substitute 1 heaped tbsp of chopped stems)
4 tbsp chopped fresh turmeric
zest of 1 small kaffir lime
4 small garlic cloves
2 Thai shallots or 1 regular shallot, sliced
1 tbsp kapi (shrimp paste)
for the curry
200 g/7 oz minced (ground) pork
300 g/10½ oz minced (ground) venison
1 tsp palm sugar
1–2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1 tsp ground turmeric (optional)
6 kaffir lime leaves, finely sliced
1 stick lemongrass, finely sliced
To make the paste: toast the dried chillies in a hot, dry frying pan (skillet) for a few moments until they are very crispy, shaking them constantly to keep them from burning. Using scissors, snip off the stem ends, then snip them up into small pieces, removing the seeds as you go. Soak the pieces in warm water for about 20 minutes. Drain and dry on paper towels.
Then, with a pestle and mortar, pound the paste ingredients together in the order listed above (alternatively, blitz them together in a blender along with 1–2 tbsp of water) until you have a smooth-ish paste.
To make the curry: heat a wok over a medium heat until it’s good and hot. Add the paste and start stirring and scraping until it’s really fragrant, no more than 1 minute. Note that this curry does not use any oil, so it’s important to keep the paste moving to ensure it doesn’t burn. If it looks like it is sticking too much, add a dash of water.
Now add the pork to bring some fat and moisture to the paste, turning and cooking and mixing it through the flavours. Then add the venison, really scraping and stir-frying it through the paste and pork. You want everything well combined and cooked through. Add the palm sugar and 1 tbsp of nam pla, stirring through. Add the ground turmeric, if using. Taste and add more nam pla if needed – the curry should be very hot, fragrant and salty.
Remove from the heat and stir through the lime leaves and the lemongrass. Serve with freshly cooked rice and some crunchy vegetables on the side.
~ If you can’t find dried Thai bird’s eye chillies, African dried peri peri chilies make a good substitution. ~
Khun Tieb Watjanakaomkul, our friends Lek and Yai’s mum, is a remarkable 77 year old woman and a legendary cook. Her parents were rice farmers, but she insisted on studying instead of working in the paddy fields, a revolutionary act back then, when Thai society in general, let alone rural areas, did not think a woman’s education was important. Secondly, she convinced her mother to let her move away to Hat Yai, where she met her husband, who was Thai-Chinese. Cross-cultural marriages used to be most unusual. She made it work. She cooks both Thai and Chinese food brilliantly, and this is her recipe.
In the south, they call this soupy curry gaeng som. We call it gaeng leung to differentiate it from the gaeng som of central Thailand. ‘Som’ means ‘sour’, and both curries are. Yet, this is a very different beast: it’s packed with turmeric and chillies and soured with lime juice, rather than the tamarind of the plains.
I use a blender for this paste – but beware: it will turn yellow. As will your hands if you don’t wear gloves.
Photographed on here, top right.
Serves 4–6
10–12 Thai bird’s eye chillies
12–15-cm/5–6-inch piece of fresh turmeric, scraped and chopped
4 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
2 Thai shallots or 1 regular shallot, peeled and chopped
a pinch of salt
1 tbsp kapi (shrimp paste)
½ ripe pineapple, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
300 g/10½ oz firm white fish fillet, sliced
4–6 tbsp lime juice
salt or nam pla (fish sauce), to taste
Place the chillies, turmeric, garlic, shallots and salt together into a mini chopper or blender with 100 ml/3½ fl oz/scant ½ cup of water. Blitz to a smooth paste.
In a large saucepan, add the turmeric mixture to 600 ml/1 pint/2½ cups of water. Bring to the boil, then add the kapi. Do not stir, as the soup will turn cloudy. Add the pineapple and bring back to the boil. Add the fish and bring up to the boil until the fish is just cooked. Remove from the heat and add half of the lime juice. Taste, and add more if needed, plus the salt or nam pla – you might need more than you think, so keep tasting: it should be sour and hot with the sweetness of the pineapple coming through. Serve with rice and the Moo Khem (Salty Pork, see here).
This dry curry most likely has its roots in Malaysia, or maybe even further west. It first appears in Thai cookbooks in the late nineteenth century, and reflects the aristocratic style of cooking from that period, when many spices were too expensive for ordinary Thais. It is rich, thick, salty and sweet, with the peanuts in the paste making this unique in the Thai canon. Alas, if you have an issue with peanuts, this is not for you – they’re non-negotiable.
The nineteenth century versions of the recipe call for beef, but you can also make this with chicken. Those older versions would also do away with the garnishes, and with the clove of garlic used here to flavour the oil before cooking off the paste.
Serves 4–6
for the paste
10 long dried red chillies
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp coriander seeds
a pinch of salt
2 sticks lemongrass, finely chopped
2.5-cm/1-inch piece of galangal, peeled and finely chopped
2 tbsp peanuts, toasted (see tip)
3 coriander (cilantro) roots (see here), finely chopped
4 Thai shallots or 2 regular shallots, peeled and chopped
4 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
zest of 1 kaffir lime
1 tsp kapi (shrimp paste)
for the curry
3 tbsp vegetable oil
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
300 g/10½ oz beef or chicken thighs, cut into strips
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1 tbsp palm sugar
175 ml/6 fl oz/¾ cup coconut cream
1 long red chilli, deseeded, finely sliced
3 kaffir lime leaves, finely sliced
a handful of holy basil leaves, to finish
First make the paste: in a dry frying pan (skillet), toast the dried chillies for a few minutes until they’re crispy and brittle. Keep them moving in the pan as you go to make sure they don’t burn. Let cool a little, then cut the stalks off the chillies with scissors, and snip them into very small pieces, removing the seeds as you go. Soak in warm water for about 20 minutes, then drain and dry thoroughly on paper towels.
In the same dry pan, toast the cumin and coriander seeds for 1–2 minutes, until fragrant. Remove from the heat and transfer to a mortar and pestle. Add the salt, and grind the seeds. Now add the chillies, and pound until broken down and smooth. Then work through the remaining paste ingredients in the order listed until you have a smooth paste. If you prefer, you can blitz everything together in a food processor. To do so, you will need to add 1–2 tbsp of water to help the paste come together. Add everything in the same order, as above.
To make the curry: heat the oil in a wok or saucepan, and fry off the garlic until golden. Then add the curry paste and fry for about 1 minute, until fragrant. Now add the meat, stirring it through the paste thoroughly. Keep it moving in the pan for a couple of minutes, then add the nam pla and sugar. Stir to combine, then add the coconut cream. Work it thoroughly through the paste, then simmer gently, without stirring, until the meat is cooked, about 3–4 minutes. Remove from the heat, then stir the chilli and lime leaves through the curry, followed by the basil.
~ The type of peanuts I prefer to use are often sold as pink peanuts. They still have their pinkish skins on and they’re unsalted. Toast them in a dry pan until they become a little crisp and have char marks. Let them cool before peeling, then the skins will just slip off. ~
As the name suggests, this curry has its origins in… you guessed it… the jungle, and from a time when folks living in the forested parts of Thailand had to make do and mend. This means, for a start, that there’s no coconut milk in it. And like Gaeng Ohm (Northeastern Pork and Vegetable Curry, see here), it is a dish whose roots lie in foraged ingredients. Traditionally, it would have been made with wild boar, and since that’s now readily available, I have chosen to use it here. But you can make it with any protein you like. One of the best versions I ever had, at Pailin in Los Angeles’s Thai Town, was made with slices of catfish. I’ve also had it made with rabbit, quail and with water beetles. The choice is yours.
Serves 4–6
for the paste
10 dried bird’s eye (bird) chillies
5 dried long red chillies
a good pinch of salt
2.5-cm/1-inch piece of galangal, finely chopped
2 lemongrass sticks, finely sliced
2–4 red Thai bird’s eye chillies
1 Thai shallot or ½ regular shallot, peeled and finely chopped
2 tbsp chopped krachai (fingerroot/Chinese keys, see here)
3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
zest of 1 kaffir lime
1½ tsp kapi (shrimp paste)
for the curry
1 tbsp vegetable oil
300 g/10½ oz wild boar or pork, cut into 2-cm/¾-inch strips
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
4–6 round Thai aubergines (eggplants), quartered
2.5-cm/1-inch piece of krachai (finger-root/Chinese keys), finely sliced
2–3 strands of fresh green peppercorns
3–4 kaffir lime leaves, torn
a small handful of holy basil leaves
To make the paste: toast the dried chillies in a dry frying pan (skillet) until brittle. Keep them moving in the pan to keep them from burning. Then, soak them in hot water for 10 minutes. Drain and dry them thoroughly. Cut them into very small pieces with scissors, removing the seeds as you go. You may want to use gloves for this so that you don’t burn your hands on the capsaicin.
In a pestle and mortar, pound the dried chillies together with the salt to break them down. Then work through the remaining paste ingredients in the order listed, pounding them together until you have a smooth paste.
To make the curry: heat the vegetable oil in a saucepan, and fry off the paste until it’s fragrant. Add the meat and stir it quickly through the paste. Add the nam pla and 700 ml/1¼ pints/scant 3 cups water, stir everything gently together and bring to a gentle boil. Add the aubergines, krachai and the lime leaves, and cook for about 5 minutes, until the pork or boar is done. Remove from the heat, stir in the basil leaves, and serve.
Khun Thip paused when she gave me this recipe. Then she said, ‘Why don’t you move here to Hua Hin. Then we can teach you all our recipes, and we can open a cooking school for farang.’ I was very tempted, not least because Chao Lay is one of my favourite places to eat in the world, and this is my favourite of their dishes. It is rich, creamy, spicy and delicious.
You can order it two ways. In the first, the crab comes in its shell, so there’s a lot of claw cracking and finger licking. The second way is made with lump crab only, in which case replace the whole crab below with 400 g/14 oz of it. Do take care when you’re cooking not to break it up; part of the dish’s joy lies in the sweet crab meat’s contrast with the sauce.
Serves 2–4
4–6 tbsp vegetable oil
8 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
1 onion, sliced lengthways
3 tbsp hot curry powder
2 swimmer crabs, cooked, cleaned and cut into 4
120 g/4 oz lump crab meat
1 x 400-ml/14-fl oz can of evaporated milk
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1 tbsp caster (superfine) sugar
a good grinding of white pepper
1 tbsp chilli oil
3 eggs, lightly beaten
a small handful of Chinese celery leaves
a small handful of spring onions (scallions), cut into 2-cm/¾-inch batons
2 Thai long red chillies, deseeded and finely sliced
Heat the wok over a high heat and, when it’s hot, add the vegetable oil. When the oil starts to shimmer, add the garlic and onion, and stir-fry until fragrant without letting it colour. Add the curry powder, stir it through, then add the crab. Stir gently but thoroughly to coat the crab in the curry powder, oil and onion. Then add the evaporated milk and bring to a simmer. Add the nam pla, sugar and white pepper, and stir together.
In a small bowl, add the chilli oil to the eggs, and beat gently with a fork until combined. Pour the mixture into the simmering curry and, when it starts to thicken, stir it through the sauce. Finally, add the celery leaves, spring onions and chillies, stirring everything together. Remove from the heat and serve with rice.
This pork curry from Northern Thailand has its roots in Myanmar. I am always astounded by its complexity and depth. It is not an especially fiery curry; instead it has a rich, sweet, salty sourness punctuated by fresh ginger and tart pickled garlic. I use two cuts of pork because the belly adds fattiness and the shoulder gives texture. Typically, this would be made with a hang lay powder, but it can be hard to find, so I use a Thai curry powder or a good Madras.
Serves 4–6
for the paste
12 long dried red chillies
a pinch of sea salt
2-cm/¾-inch piece of galangal, peeled and chopped
1 stick lemongrass, chopped
4 garlic cloves, chopped
2 Thai shallots or 1 regular shallot, peeled and chopped
1 tsp kapi (shrimp paste)
for the curry
250 g/9 oz pork belly, chunked
250 g/9 oz pork shoulder (butt), chunked
3 tbsp Thai or Madras curry powder
2 tbsp nam kratiem dong (the liquid from a jar of pickled garlic)
2 tbsp vegetable oil
300 ml/10 fl oz/1¼ cups stock
7-cm/2¾-inch piece of ginger, peeled and finely slivered
6 Thai shallots, peeled and halved or 3 regular shallots, peeled and quartered
1–2 teaspoons light soy sauce, to taste
1 tbsp dark soy sauce
1–2 tsp nam pla (fish sauce), to taste
1 tbsp palm sugar
100 ml/3½ fl oz/½ cup coconut milk
3–4 tbsp tamarind paste (purée), to taste
a good pinch of ground turmeric
4–6 heads of pickled garlic, peeled and cloves separated (chopped if large)
100 g/3½ oz unsalted peanuts, roasted
To make the paste: in a dry frying pan (skillet), lightly toast the dried chillies until fragrant, no more than 30 seconds. Fill a bowl with boiling water, and soak the chillies for 20 minutes, or until softened. Drain and dry them well on paper towels. Cut into small pieces with scissors.
In a pestle and mortar, pound the paste ingredients together in the order listed, making sure each one is well incorporated before moving on to the next. You can use a mini-chopper for this if you prefer, but you will need to add about 1–2 tbsp of water to keep the blade happy.
To make the curry: in a large bowl, mix the two cuts of pork together with the Thai curry powder, 1 tbsp of the pickled garlic juice and the curry paste, and place in the refrigerator to marinate for at least 1 hour, ideally up to 3 hours.
Heat the oil in a wok and stir-fry the pork until it has lost its pinky colour, about 10–15 minutes or so. Add the stock, bring up to the boil, then simmer over a low heat for about 25 minutes.
Add the ginger and shallots, and cook over a low heat, partially covered, for 30 minutes.
Finally, add the light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, nam pla, sugar, coconut milk, tamarind, a good pinch of ground turmeric, the remaining pickled garlic juice, the pickled garlic and the peanuts, and simmer gently, uncovered, for another 30–40 minutes. Add a splash of water if ever it looks a little dry. Taste and adjust the seasoning – it should be rich, sweet and salty, and the pork should be tender.
Serve with rice.
~ Thai pickled garlic heads are generally smaller than Chinese, so if using Chinese, just use 2–3. ~
Packed with vegetables, dill and chillies, this deliciously pungent curry is typical of northeastern Thailand, and – forget whiskers on kittens – it’s one of my favourite things. The pungency comes from pla ra, which is impossible to translate directly, but is basically fermented fish. Think of an extra-funky, thick, unfiltered fish sauce, and you’re halfway there.
Serves 4–6
for the paste
4 sticks lemongrass
1 kaffir lime leaf, finely sliced
6–8 red chillies
6 garlic cloves
4–6 Thai shallots, or 2 regular shallots, chopped
6–8 tbsp pla ra (Isaan fermented fish sauce)
for the curry
300 g/10½ oz pork loin, sliced
2 tbsp vegetable oil
600 ml/1 pint/2½ cups water or stock
6 Thai aubergines (eggplants), quartered, plus a handful of pea aubergines (eggplants), about 30 g/1 oz in all
300 g/10½ oz pumpkin, peeled and diced
100 g/3½ oz bamboo shoots, shredded
a large handful of Thai sweet basil
5 kaffir lime leaves
a large bunch of dill, cut into 5-cm/2-inch pieces
a dash of nam pla (fish sauce)
To make the paste: remove the outer sheath from the lemongrass and give it a good bash. Chop it up small, then smash in a mortar and pestle. Add the thinly sliced lime leaf and the chillies and bash again. Add the garlic and shallots and bash. Alternatively, do all of this in a chopper, adding a little water if needed.
Add the pla ra to the paste and then work it into the pork slices. Marinate for 1 hour in the refrigerator.
To make the curry: heat the oil in a large saucepan and fry the meat and paste until cooked and fragrant, about 3–4 minutes. Add the water or stock and bring up to a simmer. Add the vegetables and cook until they’re just done, about 2–3 minutes. Finally, add the herbs and a dash more water, if necessary. Add nam pla to taste, and a little more pla ra if you like. We want this to be hot, salty and a bit funky! Serve with rice.
This is a real central Thailand dish from the ancient capital of Sukhothai. It is sour, pungent and spicy, and shot through with the area’s big ingredient: tamarind.
It also contains an omelette made with cha om, or tropical acacia leaf – it looks like a fern and, though it smells a bit like chicken poop, is delicious once cooked. Beware though: the stems have very sharp thorns. Carefully denude them of the lush leaves, and discard the rest. If you cannot find cha om, don’t worry: you can use chives or spring onions (scallions) instead.
Serves 4–6
for the curry paste
6 long dried chillies
a pinch of salt
1 tbsp chopped galangal
4 Thai shallots or 2 regular shallots, peeled and chopped
2 tsp kapi (shrimp paste)
for the omelette
4 eggs
a dash of nam pla (fish sauce)
a good grinding of white pepper
200 g/7 oz cha om (acacia leaf), leaves only (if unavailable, substitute chives or spring onions/scallions)
vegetable oil, for frying
for the curry
200 g/7 oz raw prawns (shrimp), peeled and de-veined but with the tails left on, 4 finely chopped
2 tbsp tamarind paste (purée)
1 tsp sugar
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
150 g/5½ oz daikon (mooli), halved lengthways and sliced
65 g/2¼ oz sliced bamboo shoots
6 cherry tomatoes
100 g/3½ oz pak boong (Siamese watercress), trimmed and chopped
To make the paste: toast the dried chillies in a hot, dry frying pan (skillet) for a few moments until they are very crispy, shaking them constantly to keep them from burning. Using scissors, snip off the stem ends, then snip them up into small pieces, removing the seeds as you go. Soak the pieces in warm water for about 20 minutes. Drain and dry on paper towels.
Pound all the ingredients for the paste together in a pestle and mortar until smooth. Set aside.
To make the omelette, in a large bowl, beat the eggs together with a splash of nam pla and some ground white pepper, then add the cha om.
In a deep frying pan (skillet), heat a 2.5-cm/1-inch depth of oil until VERY hot. Pour in the eggs and swirl to coat the pan. Fry until cooked and golden, flip, then remove from the oil with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Let cool, then chop the omelette into squares and set aside.
To make the curry: bring 1 litre/1¾ pints/4 cups of water to the boil. Add the 4 chopped prawns and simmer until cooked. Remove the prawns from the water and work them gently into the paste in the pestle and mortar until combined.
Return the water to the boil, add the tamarind, sugar and nam pla, then add the paste and return to the boil. Add the daikon and bring back to the boil. Then add the bamboo shoots, tomatoes and pak boong, and return to the boil once again. Finally, add the whole prawns and simmer for a couple of minutes until cooked. Taste and adjust the seasoning: it should be sour, salty and spicy.
Serve in bowls, topped with the squares of omelette.
~ Thai omelettes are drier than Western ones, so cook the egg thoroughly in hot oil. ~
One of the things I love about this curry is the way it juxtaposes the creaminess of the chicken livers with the salty-spiciness of the sauce. It is one of my most requested dishes. In my humble opinion, we do not eat enough chicken livers. If you’re someone who has in the past felt squeamish about them, this may just be the dish to change your mind.
Serves 4
for the paste
6–8 large dried chillies (depending on how hot you like it)
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp coriander seeds
a pinch of sea salt
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 tbsp finely chopped galangal
2 sticks lemongrass, bashed, peeled and finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
2 tbsp finely chopped fresh turmeric (see tip)
1 heaped tsp kapi (shrimp paste)
for the curry
2 tbsp vegetable oil
250 ml/9 fl oz/generous 1 cup coconut milk mixed with 150 ml/5 fl oz/2/3 cup stock or water, or 1 x 400-ml/14-fl oz can of coconut milk
100 ml/3½ fl oz/scant ½ cup chicken stock
1 tbsp nam kratiem dong (the liquid from a jar of pickled garlic)
1 tbsp white vinegar
1 tbsp caster (superfine) sugar
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
a small handful of fresh green peppercorns
350 g/12 oz chicken livers, trimmed
a good handful of Thai sweet basil
deep-fried garlic (see here), to garnish
To make the paste: toast the dried chillies in a hot, dry frying pan (skillet) for a few moments until they are very crispy, shaking them constantly to keep them from burning. Using scissors, snip off the stem ends, then snip them up into small pieces, removing the seeds as you go. Soak the pieces in warm water for about 20 minutes. Drain and dry on paper towels.
Toast the cumin seeds and the coriander seeds in the same dry pan over a low heat until just fragrant, about 1–2 minutes.
With a pestle and mortar, pound the paste ingredients together in the order listed (alternatively, blitz them together in a blender along with 1–2 tbsp of water) until you have a smooth-ish paste. If it is not as smooth as a commercial one, don’t worry, it will still taste terrific.
To make the curry: heat the oil in a wok or heavy-based pan. Add the paste and stir-fry until really fragrant, just 2 minutes. Add the coconut milk and bring to the boil. Add the chicken stock, the nam kratiem dong, vinegar, sugar, nam pla and the green peppercorns. Bring back to the boil, then taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary. You’re looking for a balance of sweet, hot, sour, salty and spicy.
You can make the curry up to this point and finish it later – or even the next day, if necessary.
If finishing it now, add the chicken livers and cook for a few minutes until just done.
If finishing it later, bring the curry sauce back to the boil, and cook the chicken livers in it as above.
Finally, stir in the basil and garnish with deep-fried garlic. Serve with rice.
~ Wear some disposable gloves when dealing with turmeric root, or you will have yellow-stained fingers! ~
