In the home kitchen, three things are critical for a successful stir-fry. Firstly, you need the right wok (see here). Secondly, always heat the wok and then add the cooking oil, rather than heating the oil in the wok. This ensures that the wok itself is as hot as possible, and that the oil doesn’t pass its smoke point and burn. Thirdly, have your ingredients prepped and work fast!
This very simple stir-fry offers yet another demonstration of the fact that Thai food doesn’t have to be spicy.
You can find chive flowers in most Asian supermarkets. When you buy them and cook them, the flower bud should be closed. If any have opened, de-head them and use the stems. And if you cannot find them, young fine asparagus (‘sprue’) works as an excellent substitute. You can also use beansprouts, in which case the dish becomes Goong Pad Tua Gnork.
Serves 2–4
1 tbsp vegetable oil
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
175 g/6 oz raw prawns (shrimp), peeled
a small bunch of chive flowers, chopped into 4–5-cm/1½–2-inch lengths
1 tbsp caster (superfine) sugar
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
Heat a wok over a fairly high heat and add the oil. When the oil is hot, add the garlic and stir-fry until it’s really fragrant, but not brown. Add the prawns and stir rapidly. When they begin to turn pink, add the chive flowers and continue to stir-fry for a minute or so. Add the sugar, nam pla and 1 tbsp water. Let that bubble up while you keep stirring for about 1–2 minutes.
Turn out on to a plate and serve.
Really old Thai dishes, such as this one, do not feature chillies because chillies are not indigenous to Thailand – they were brought over by Portuguese traders in the sixteenth century. Prior to that, most flavouring and spicing was done with herbs and peppercorns. One of the particular joys of this recipe is licking the peppery fried garlic off your fingers after you’ve peeled the prawns – something that was actively encouraged by Prayoon, our family cook, whose recipe this is.
You can, of course, make it with ready-peeled prawns too, if you prefer.
Serves 4 as a part of a meal
12 large whole prawns (jumbo shrimp) (approx. 500 g/1 lb 2 oz)
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
2–3 large coriander (cilantro) roots and stems (see here)
1 heaped tbsp white peppercorns
6–8 garlic cloves, peeled
a pinch of salt
2 tbsp vegetable oil
In a large bowl, soak the prawns in the nam pla for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a pestle and mortar, pound the coriander roots, white peppercorns, garlic and salt roughly together – you want some chunky bits.
Take the prawns out of the nam pla, shake off the excess and then roll them in the garlic, peppercorn and coriander mixture.
Heat a wok and add the oil. When the oil is very hot, pop the prawns in, a couple at a time, turning them with a spoon or spatula until they are a lovely deep orange colour and are cooked through, about 3–5 minutes, depending on their size. When each batch of the prawns are cooked, set them aside on a warm platter.
When all the prawns are cooked, take what’s left of the garlicky mixture and quickly fry it off until it’s crispy. Sprinkle it on top of the prawns, and serve.
In all honesty, I’ve rarely met a shellfish I didn’t like, and scallops are among my favourites – Thai scallops especially so. They are smaller than most fished in European waters, similar in fact to the queenies or queen scallops you find in the Isle of Man. If you can find them, you won’t need to halve the scallop as requested below.
Krachai features here, too. It’s sometimes known as ‘lesser ginger’, ‘Chinese keys’ or ‘fingerroot’. It tastes like a herbaceous ginger, and it’s easy to find in most Asian supermarkets. If you can’t find it, make something else!
Serves 2–4
2 garlic cloves, peeled
2–4 Thai bird’s eye chillies
1 tbsp vegetable oil
300 g/10½ oz scallops, roes separated and each halved into 2 discs
30 g/1 oz krachai (fingerroot/Chinese keys), scraped and finely slivered
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1 tbsp oyster sauce
2 kaffir lime leaves, roughly torn
2 sticks fresh green peppercorns
1 long red chilli, sliced diagonally
a handful of Thai sweet basil
In a pestle and mortar, pound the garlic and bird’s eye chillies together into a loose paste.
Heat a large wok and add the oil. When it’s hot, add the garlic and chillies, and stir-fry until vividly fragrant. Add the scallops and the krachai and stir-fry until the scallops are half-cooked, then add the sauces, lime leaves, peppercorns, sliced chilli and the scallop roe, if you have it. As soon as you’ve stirred them in, add the basil. Stir-fry for another 30 seconds or so, then turn out on to a plate and serve.
For a dish that takes so little time to make, this tastes surprisingly complex. The sweet clams, rich chilli paste and fresh basil create a perfect balance of flavour. If you can’t find Thai basil, you can use regular basil instead.
Serves 2–4 as a part of a meal
500 g/1 lb 2 oz clams
2 tbsp vegetable oil
2–3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
1 tbsp nam prik pao (roasted chilli paste, see here)
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1 tsp caster (superfine) sugar
2 long red chillies, sliced diagonally
a handful of Thai sweet basil leaves
In a colander, rinse the clams well under cold running water, discarding any open ones that refuse to close after a firm tap with the back of a knife.
On a high heat, heat the wok until it’s very hot and add the oil. Add the garlic and fry until golden. Add the clams and the nam prik pao, and stir-fry for 1–2 minutes.
One at a time, add the nam pla, sugar, 2 tbsp water and the chillies, stirring them in well after each addition. Continue to cook, stirring all the time, until all the clams have opened (discard any that remain closed).
Finally, add most of the basil and stir it in until wilted.
Serve at once, with the last few basil leaves scattered over the top.
~ There are so many brands of nam prik pao on the market and it will keep in the fridge for ages. My preferred brand is Mae Pranom. As a kid, I used to eat it spread on thick white bread... Try it! ~
This is one of the first dishes I learned to cook – simple and delicious. And saw me through many a term as an impecunious drama student.
Serves 4–6
400–450 g/14 oz–1 lb cabbage (white, Savoy, spring, January King… whatever’s to hand)
2 tbsp vegetable oil
4–6 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
½ tsp caster (superfine) sugar (optional)
Core the cabbage, remove any tough outer leaves and cut it into chunks. Separate the leaves, then rinse in cold water and set aside to dry.
Heat a wok over a high heat, and then add the oil. When it’s hot, add the garlic and stir-fry until fragrant and just about to turn golden. Add the cabbage and stir-fry in its residual water, coating it with the garlic. Add the nam pla, pouring it around the cabbage on to the hot wok – you want to get a real hit of that funky smell and some caramelization. Continue to stir-fry the cabbage through the fish sauce until it’s softening slightly and ‘catching’. Add the sugar, if using. Give it all a final toss and add a little more nam pla or a dash of water, if you think it needs it.
Serve with Thai jasmine rice.
What could be simpler or more delicious than scrambled eggs? Here’s a Thai version, where the creamy egg is juxtaposed with the crunch of bitter melon (bitter gourd).
Serves 2–4
2 eggs
a few dashes of soy sauce
a good grinding of white pepper
2 tbsp vegetable oil
250 g/9 oz bitter melon (bitter gourd), deseeded, quartered and cut into slices
In a bowl, beat the eggs lightly with the soy and the white pepper. Set aside.
Heat a wok over high heat, and add the oil. Add the bitter melon, and stir-fry. Keep going until the melon starts to soften a little. Add the eggs and scramble through the bitter melon until cooked to your liking. I prefer a softer scramble, but you can go for something firmer, an omelette-style if you like, flipping it halfway through.
When I say mixed vegetables, I mean mixed vegetables – you can throw in pretty much anything you have in the bottom of the fridge. I like baby corn, mangetout (snow peas), cabbage and green beans.
Serves 4 as part of a meal
1 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp oyster sauce
a pinch of caster (superfine) sugar
200 g/7 oz mixed vegetables
2 tbsp vegetable oil
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1 large red chilli, sliced
In a small bowl, mix the soy and oyster sauce together with the sugar, and put it where you can reach it quickly when you’re cooking. Then, rinse the vegetables, but don’t dry.
Turn your largest hob ring/burner to maximum, and heat your wok until it’s almost smoking. Add the oil, and when it’s good and hot, add the garlic and the chilli. Stir-fry until the garlic turns a golden nutty brown. Add the wet vegetables, hardest first, and stir vigorously. As the veg begins to wilt, add the mixed sauces and continue stir-frying. The vegetables should be wilting in the hot sauce and their residual water; if not, add another dash of water, and continue stir-frying until they’re cooked to your liking and well coated in the sauce, garlic and chilli, about 3 minutes or so.
Turn out on to a plate and serve.
~ When stir-frying, always have a glass or mug of water or light stock standing by – just in case you need to add a dash. ~
This could be my favourite Thai vegetable dish of all. It’s made in broadly the same way all over the country but, as ever, some cooks have their own little tweaks. At my friend Khun Thip’s restaurant Chao Lay in Hua Hin, chef Khun Nai adds a fistful of peeled, whole, tiny Thai garlic cloves, which is simply heavenly.
One of the difficulties, however, for the home cook, is that we don’t generally have the chance to cook on charcoal braziers or even over the brutally fierce gas wok hobs that you can plug into a gas canister. So, we can’t easily ignite the oil in the dish to introduce that delicious ‘flamed’ flavour into the sauce – fai daeng means ‘red flame’ – and it’s the real secret to the dish.
Serves 4 as part of a meal
4 small garlic cloves, peeled
1 long red or orange chilli
2 Thai bird’s eye chillies, optional
a pinch of salt
2 tbsp vegetable oil
200 g/7 oz morning glory, trimmed and chopped into 5-cm/2-inch pieces
1 tsp caster (superfine) sugar
2 tbsp oyster sauce
3 tbsp yellow beans, rinsed
2 tbsp water or stock (if needed)
In a pestle and mortar, pound together the garlic, chilli and a pinch of salt. Set aside.
Heat a wok over a high heat and add the oil. Once the oil is hot, add the garlic and chilli paste, and stir-fry until it’s fragrant and golden. Add the morning glory and continue stir-frying for a minute or two.
Add the sugar, oyster sauce, yellow beans and a splash of stock or water, stirring after each addition.
Move everything around the wok (try to catch some red flame!) until it’s bubbling fiercely, the leaves are wilted and the stems al dente. If it looks a little dry at any point, add another splash of stock or water.
Serve.
~ If you want to make this vegetarian or vegan, you can substitute the oyster sauce for a mixture of 1½ tbsp light soy and 1½ tbsp dark soy. ~
I’ve said this before: you don’t know your place in the world until you walk beside an elephant, the true king of the jungle, and so integral to Thai culture that one used to feature on the country’s flag.
And yet, despite this, there are now only about 3,000 of them left in the wild, and just over 3,500 in domesticity. The species is in trouble. And it’s the humans’ fault.
I struggle with the human/elephant conundrum. We have created a world that has little room for them in the wild. And even though humans have worked with elephants for almost as long as they have with horses, there is still outrageous bad practice and cruelty involved.
I write this as one who rescued an orphaned male back in 1993 when he was just 5 years old. He’s 30 now, named Bo-That, over 3 metres/10 feet tall, and living at the Thai Elephant Conservation Centre in Lampang, where he’s cared for by his kwan, Tam.
Do I like that he’s in captivity? No. I do not. But I also know that he would be dead if he wasn’t. I know too, that most elephant sanctuaries only take in females because they’re easier – Bo-That’s in musth half the time, and 5,000 kg/5½ tons of rage and crazy is damned dangerous to be near. At Lampang, they don’t discriminate. And, aligned to the Conservation Centre, they have the world’s leading elephant hospital, where they have pioneered elephant C-sections and prostheses. He’s in the best place he can be. And Tam adores him.
The sad truth is that elephants – Asian and African – will not survive without our help. And the Asian elephant’s plight is by far the worse. So what can we do?
Encourage better husbandry, for one. At Lampang, they endorse the work of Dr. Andrew Mclean’s Human Elephant Learning Program (HELP) which, following the example of horse-whispers like Buck Brannaman and Warwick Schiller, re-teaches kwans and mahouts how to work with their elephants across Asia. And by supporting elephant charities: my favourite is Elephant Family (elephant-family.org) because they understand that we can’t be militant and say ‘elephants belong only in the wild’ if we’re to succeed in saving them.
I love my beautiful boy. He’s grumpy. According to Tam, he only likes him and me, and tolerates everyone else. And chaps like him are vital to the species’s survival.
This is a street-food staple, made in massive pans in night markets all across Thailand. It’s very simple to make a home version, too. I’ve cut back heavily on the oil – making it more of a scramble than a true Thai omelette – because I find that, with less grease, the oysters’ flavour has more room to shine.
Serves 2, or 4 as a part of a larger meal
12 oysters, shucked and drained
rice flour, for dredging
4 eggs
1½ tsp nam pla (fish sauce)
freshly ground white pepper
1 tbsp picked coriander (cilantro) leaves
2 tbsp vegetable oil
100 g/3½ oz beansprouts
2 spring onions (scallions), cut into 1.5-cm/½-inch batons
½ long red chilli, finely sliced
Dredge the oysters in the rice flour and set aside.
Beat the eggs together with the nam pla, pepper and half of the coriander leaves.
Heat a well-seasoned wok and add the oil. When it’s hot, add the oysters and cook for about 1 minute. Pour in the egg and add the beansprouts and half of the spring onions. Cook, stirring the egg from the outside in, until you have a scramble-omelette hybrid. The texture should be just firm.
Turn out on to a plate and garnish with the remaining spring onion, coriander leaves and the sliced chilli.
Serve at once with Nam Pla Prik (Fish Sauce with Chillies, see here) and/or Sriracha sauce.
There’s a strong Chinese influence in this simple stir-fry. It’s fragrant and delicious, and perfect for a quick supper on its own, with rice. In which case, this recipe makes enough for two. That said, I most often serve it in the context of a larger meal because of its relative mildness.
Serves 4 as a part of a meal
2 tbsp vegetable oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
300 g/10½ oz pork, thinly sliced for stir-frying
50 g/2 oz ginger, peeled and slivered
2 tbsp light soy sauce
1–2 tbsp oyster sauce
a dash of nam pla (fish sauce)
1 tbsp stock or water
a pinch of caster (superfine) sugar
freshly ground white pepper
1 large red chilli, sliced diagonally, to garnish
2 spring onions (scallions), sliced diagonally, to garnish
Heat the wok over a very high heat. When it’s hot, add the oil, followed by the garlic. Stir-fry until fragrant and almost golden, then add the pork. Stir-fry until the pork is almost cooked, then add most of the ginger, stirring it through, and add the liquids and the sugar. Stir-fry for 1 minute or long enough to bring the sauce together. Remove from the heat, season with white pepper to taste, and turn out on to a serving plate.
Garnish with the chilli, spring onions and the few reserved slivers of fresh ginger, and serve.
This is one of my favourite things to eat in the world, especially when served lart khao kai dao, as a one-dish meal over rice with a deep-fried egg to top it off. It is one of the first Thai recipes I learned to cook. Even so, I wasn’t surprised to receive a text from David Thompson when he read my version, that said: ‘Beans?! Beans!! If you were here now…’
This is something of a running joke between us, because – like many chefs – David is a purist, and rightly revered for his knowledge of Thai food. He was referring to a version of pad krapow made solely with nam pla. No soy and certainly no green beans. And he is both right and wrong.
There are no Larousse-like standard recipe texts in Thai cooking. Instead, as with Italian food, there’s enormous variation not only regionally but from cook to cook. And nowhere is this better demonstrated than with pad krapow.
I picked up the offending version from a road-side cook in Kanchanaburi. I like the deep savoury qualities given by the soy and the texture of the green beans. I also like the ‘pure’ fish sauce version David and I like to argue about. So I include both (see overleaf).
I most frequently make this with pork, but you can use beef, chicken, prawns (shrimp), duck, tofu, mushrooms, you name it. You can even use the Moo Grop (Crispy Thai Pork Belly, see here). And, while you really should finely chop up the meat yourself, when I make this for my lunch, I just buy minced (ground) pork from the supermarket!
Serves 2 lart khao, or 4 as a part of a larger meal
4–6 Thai bird’s eye chillies
1 large red chilli, cut into chunks
6 garlic cloves, peeled
a pinch of sea salt
2 tbsp dark soy sauce
2 tbsp light soy sauce
a pinch of caster (superfine) sugar
2 tbsp vegetable oil
300 g/10½ oz pork, minced (ground)
100 g/3½ oz green beans, topped, tailed and cut into 1-cm/½-inch pieces
a very large handful of holy basil leaves – the more the merrier (see tip)
In a pestle and mortar, pound the chillies, garlic and salt to a rough paste. Set aside.
In a small bowl, mix the soy sauces and 2 tbsp water, and stir in the sugar.
Heat a wok until its really hot, then add the oil. Throw in the chilli-garlic paste and stir-fry for a few seconds – until you can really smell everything in the pan, but not long enough to colour the garlic. Now add the pork and stir-fry until it’s cooked through, then add the green beans.
Add the liquid and stir through, allowing it to bubble up before adding nearly all the basil and letting it wilt into the dish.
Serve over steamed jasmine rice, with Kai Dao (Deep-fried Eggs, see here), as pictured, and the remaining basil leaves scattered on top.
~ If you can’t find holy basil (bai krapow), you can use Thai sweet basil instead. Worst-case scenario, I have even made this with regular basil – but it isn’t quite the same. If you do, just don’t call it Pad Krapow. ~
4–6 Thai bird’s eye chillies
1 large red chilli, cut into chunks
6 garlic cloves, peeled
a pinch of sea salt
2 tbsp vegetable oil
300 g/10½ oz pork, minced (ground)
3 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
1 tsp caster (superfine) sugar
a very large handful of holy basil leaves (see tip, above)
Pound the paste together as above. Then fry it off in the hot oil, followed by the meat, also as above. When it is almost cooked, add the nam pla and the sugar. Stir-fry together until amalgamated and the pork is cooked. Then add most of the basil and wilt it into the dish. Serve as above.
Should you head out on to the Thai streets between five and six in the evening, as all the young professionals hurry home from work, you will find plenty of khao gaeng stalls along the route. This is not street food, in the sense that they’re not cooking it on the street – it is often made elsewhere. And while these stalls may have a couple of tables, most people will take the food home for dinner.
The last time I was in Bangkok, I had this dish off a khao gaeng stall on Soi Saladaeng as I, too, was hurrying back from some appointments. I thought, as I ate it, ‘why don’t I make this more often?’ Now I do. You can vary the heat in it, depending on what you want to serve it with, or simply have it on rice.
I favour the vacuum-packed bamboo shoots for this. Preparing the fresh stuff takes a couple of hours, and the canned slivered shoots always disappoint.
Serves 4 as a part of a meal
3 garlic cloves, peeled
3–5 red Thai bird’s eye chillies
2 tbsp vegetable oil
125 g/4½ oz minced (ground) pork
200 g/7 oz bamboo shoots, cut into thin strips
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
a pinch of caster (superfine) sugar
2–3 kaffir lime leaves, finely sliced
In a pestle and mortar, pound the garlic and chillies together into a rough paste.
Heat a wok over a high heat and add the oil. When it’s hot, add the garlic and chilli mixture, and cook until fragrant and the garlic is just beginning to turn a light gold. Add the pork and cook until you no longer see any pink meat. Add the bamboo shoots, the nam pla and the sugar, and stir-fry for another 30 seconds or so, until the bamboo shoots are hot through. Finally, add the kaffir lime leaves, stir through, and turn the dish out on to a serving plate.
This is incredibly easy to make, and is the ideal accompaniment for the Gaeng Leung (Southern Spicy Sour Curry, see here). If you have any left over, add a tablespoon to a Kai Jeow (Thai Omelette, see here) or serve it cold, on the side, with the omelette and some freshly steamed rice.
Photographed on here, bottom left.
Serves 2–4
2–3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
2 tbsp yellow beans, rinsed
1 tbsp vegetable oil
250 g/9 oz minced (ground) pork
1 tbsp oyster sauce
1 tbsp light soy sauce
a pinch of caster (superfine) sugar
Mix the garlic and the yellow beans together in a bowl.
Place the wok over a high heat and, when it’s hot, add the oil. When it’s hot, add the garlic and yellow beans and give them a quick turn around the oil. Add the pork, stirring it into the mixture until it starts to take colour, then add all the rest of the ingredients. Stir-fry until the pork is cooked through, brown and fragrant.
A Southern favourite, sator (or ‘stink beans’) have a very, erm, pronounced taste. Nutty and slightly peppery, they also have a distinct smell. They are delicious, but… perhaps they’re best eaten with friends! If you can’t get sator you could use broad (fava) beans or sliced runner beans, but it’s the unique texture and flavour of the stink bean that makes the dish.
This is a Southern dish, and it’s one of the rare occasions where I’ve pulled my punch on the chilli. If you want to go for it, think in terms of 6–8 Thai bird’s eye chillies instead of 4–6.
Photographed on here, middle left.
Serves 2–4
½ tsp roasted chilli paste
½ tsp red curry paste
1 tbsp kapi (shrimp paste)
4–6 garlic cloves, peeled and coarsely chopped
4–6 Thai bird’s eye chillies, coarsely chopped
2 tbsp vegetable oil
150 g/5½ oz pork steak, thinly sliced into strips
60 g/2 oz sator beans (‘stink beans’), halved lengthways
80 g/3 oz raw prawns (shrimp), peeled
1 tsp nam pla (fish sauce)
a good squeeze of lime juice
4–5 kaffir lime leaves, shredded
1 tsp caster (superfine) sugar
1 tbsp coconut cream (optional), to serve
Mix the chilli paste, curry paste and the kapi together in a small bowl and set aside.
Roughly crush the garlic and the chillies in a pestle and mortar, then stir in the shrimp paste mix until well combined.
Place the wok over a high heat and, when it’s hot, add the oil. When it’s hot, add the chilli and shrimp paste mixture and stir-fry until fragrant, just 1 minute or so. Add the pork and stir-fry until cooked through – if you think it’s looking a bit dry, add a splash of water.
Keep on stirring while you add the sator and the prawns. Then add the fish sauce, a dash of lime juice, the lime leaves and sugar, and carry on stirring for a couple of minutes or so. Again, if it starts looking too dry at any point, just add a splash of water. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
Place on a serving platter and spoon or drizzle the coconut cream (if using) over the top.
Pak khana is also known as Chinese broccoli, and is easy to find in most Asian supermarkets. I especially like it because the leaves wilt and catch the sauce beautifully while the stems retain bite and texture. Here are three broadly similar ways to cook it.
Photographed on here, bottom right.
Serves 2–6
2 tbsp vegetable oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped or 6 Thai garlic cloves, squashed whole in skin
1 large red chilli, sliced (optional)
200 g/7 oz pak khana (Chinese broccoli), trimmed, sliced and washed
1 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp oyster sauce
½ tsp caster (superfine) sugar
Heat a wok over a high heat and add the oil. When it’s hot, add the garlic and chilli, and stir-fry until the garlic begins to colour. Add the pak khana and stir-fry, mixing it together with the chilli and garlic. After 1 minute or so, add the soy and oyster sauces, sugar and a splash of water, and continue stir-frying until cooked.
2 tbsp vegetable oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped or 6 Thai garlic cloves, squashed whole in skin
1 large red chilli, sliced
200 g/7 oz pak khana (Chinese broccoli), trimmed, sliced and washed
1 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp oyster sauce
1½ tsp white vinegar
½ tsp caster (superfine) sugar
200 g/7 oz Moo Grop (Crispy Thai Pork Belly, see here), cubed
Heat a wok over a high heat and add the oil. When it’s hot, add the garlic and chilli, and stir-fry until the garlic begins to colour. Add the pak khana and stir-fry, mixing it together with the chilli and garlic. After 1 minute or so, add the soy and oyster sauces, the vinegar, sugar and a splash of water, and continue stir-frying until the pak khana is almost cooked. Add the pork and stir it through to heat, but not so much that you lose its crispiness, then serve.
100 g/3½ oz pla kem (salted mackerel) (see tip)
2 tbsp vegetable oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped or 6 Thai garlic cloves, squashed whole in skin
1 large red chilli, sliced
200 g/7 oz pak khana (Chinese broccoli), trimmed, sliced and washed
1 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp oyster sauce
½ tsp caster (superfine) sugar
Skin and remove the bones from the salted fish, and cut it into small slices.
Heat a non-stick pan over a low–medium heat and dry-fry the fish until it’s golden brown and crumbly. Set aside to cool. You can do this step well in advance.
Heat a wok over a high heat and add the oil. When it’s hot, add the garlic and chilli, and stir-fry until the garlic begins to colour. Add the pak khana and stir-fry, mixing it together with the chilli and garlic. After 1 minute or so, add the soy and oyster sauces, sugar and a splash of water, and continue stir-frying until the pak khana is cooked. (I often premix the sauces, sugar and a splash of water in one little pot – it makes it so much easier when I’m stir-frying.) Finally, add the salted fish, stir it in well, and serve.
~ You can buy pla kem, or salted mackerel, in most Asian supermarkets. It tends to come vacuum-packed, in slices that are 1 cm/½ inch thick. I find that one of these slices is enough to make this recipe twice, so I take what I need and refrigerate the rest. ~
Yes, yes… of course you can buy them in shops, but they are often salted to the point of no return. Bleugh! And I say that as one who loves salt. Better to make them at home. It’s a good thing that this is such an easy recipe – you just need a friendly butcher who will save all his excess pork skin for you.
I haven’t added precise quantities here, because you never really know how much you’re going to get. This last time was a bit of a win-win – I got 2 pieces of about 9 x 20 cm/3½ x8 inches, which I then halved.
pork skin
salt
vegetable oil, for deep-frying
Begin by trimming as much of the fat off the pork skin as you can. Then pop it into a pan of well-salted boiling water, cover and simmer until it’s cooked. This takes about 1–1½ hours.
Remove the skin from the water and drain thoroughly on paper towels. Pat it dry, and let it cool for about 10 minutes, until you can handle it without burning yourself. Now, scrape off as much of the remaining fat as possible. I use a spoon. You can then either leave it in the fridge overnight to really dry out, or just leave it to dry for a couple of hours.
Preheat the oven to the lowest possible setting (50°C/120°F). Place the pork skin on a rack over a baking tray and leave it in the oven, turning it occasionally, for 24 hours. When it’s done, it should be hard and almost translucent, like a piece of amber glass.
Remove from the oven and let it cool. You can now store it in an airtight box or sealed bag until you want to use it.
Heat some oil in a wok until very hot. Break the skin into shards and fry a few at a time until puffed and crispy.
Scoop out and drain on paper towels, seasoning with a little salt while still hot.
Serve with the Nam Prik Num (Grilled Chilli and Aubergine Relish, see here).
This is not so much a dish in itself, but an ingredient for other things. You might slice it thinly and serve it with the rice and dipping sauce you’ll find in the recipe for Khao Mun Gai (Thai-Hunanese Chicken and Rice, see here); or cut it into chunks to use as the protein component of a Pad Krapow (Holy Basil Stir-Fry, see here). My favourite thing is to stir-fry it, cut into chunks or slices, with pak khana (Chinese broccoli, page 124). Even better, you can make it a couple of days before you need it.
Photographed on here, top left.
Makes 400 g/14 oz
400 g/14 oz pork belly, boned and in one piece, skin un-scored
1 tbsp salt, plus extra for salting the cooking water
1 tbsp white vinegar
vegetable oil, for deep-frying
Clean the pork, and boil it in salted water for about 1 hour, until soft. Set aside to cool.
Once it is cool enough to handle, cut crosses in the skin (but not so deep that you cut the flesh). Mix the 1 tablespoon of salt and vinegar together, and rub into the cuts. Leave to dry for as long as possible (you are trying to replicate drying it in the Thai sun). I tend to leave it uncovered in the fridge overnight.
Heat the oil in a stable wok or deep-fat fryer to 170°C/340°F and deep-fry the pork until the skin is crispy and golden. It should take 5–8 minutes, depending on the thickness of the pork. Set aside to drain on paper towels.
This recipe has been 25 years in the making. I first had moo nork kok at The Fern Restaurant in Mae Hong Son, when I was working on the movie Operation Dumbo Drop back in the early ‘90s. I became obsessed with it – so much so, that I ordered it every time we went there, which is a lot, because we were up there for 5 months and there weren’t that many places to eat. But I never got the recipe. I couldn’t find anyone else who knew how to make it. It got to the point that I began to wonder if I’d imagined the dish altogether until I found a guy in Thai Town, Los Angeles, who said he knew the dish but didn’t have the recipe.
I remained undeterred. As soon as this book started coming together, I knew it had to feature moo nork kok, so I went back to Mae Hong Son, and The Fern specifically, to find it. I ate it every day for four days, asking the staff about the recipe each time.
The cooked rice semi-cures the pork, lending it a sharp, almost lemony tang.
Here it is.
Serves 2–4
6 garlic cloves, peeled
1 tsp salt
6 tbsp cooked rice
300 g/10½ oz pork steak, cut into thin strips
vegetable oil, for deep-frying
In a pestle and mortar, pound the garlic and the salt together, then add the rice and pound again until you have a rough paste. Mix the pork through the paste. Put it all in a sealable bag or Tupperware container and refrigerate for 48 hours.
When you’re ready to cook, heat the oil in a wok or deep-fryer set to 170°C/340°F. Fry the pork, still covered in paste, until the rice is crisp and golden and the pork is cooked through.
Serve with batons of raw cucumber, steamed winged beans, finely sliced ginger, pickled garlic and Nam Jim Jaew (Roasted Chilli Dipping Sauce, see here), as pictured.
Like many before me, I have tried to prise the recipe from Khun Jae Kee at the Soi Polo Fried Chicken restaurant. And like every one of them, I have failed. I can tell you many reasons why theirs is so special – its sheer deliciousness, its lack of greasiness, the lashings of deep-fried garlic that come with it, the dipping sauce – and I can do my level best to replicate it. To do so, I travelled to Hat Yai in southern Thailand, which is pretty much ground zero for Thai fried chicken, to pick up a few tips, and ate more fried chicken that I had previously thought possible. I do it all for you, dear reader…
Serves 4–6
1 x 1.5-kg/3 lb 5-oz chicken, jointed into 8 pieces
1 batch of Gai Yang marinade (see here)
3 litres/5 pints/13 cups vegetable oil, for deep frying
1 batch of deep-fried garlic or deep-fried shallot (see here), to serve
for the batter
100 g/3½ oz/¾ cup rice flour
100 g/3½ oz/¾ cup plain (all-purpose) flour
1 tsp baking powder
350 ml/12 fl oz/1½ cups cold water
a dash of nam pla (fish sauce) or a good pinch of salt
Marinate the chicken for as long as possible – you can get away with 1 hour, but ideally you want to give it 24 hours.
When you’re ready to cook, make the batter. In a large bowl, thoroughly mix the flours and baking powder. Add the cold water and nam pla or salt, and whisk until you have a smooth batter.
Heat the oil in a wok or deep-fryer to 170°C/340°F. If using the former, the oil has reached temperature when a cube of bread will fry to a good golden brown in just under 1 minute.
Stir the chicken through the batter mixture. Allow the excess to run off before using tongs to carefully submerge the pieces in the hot oil. Fry for 7–10 minutes, until cooked through, setting the pieces aside on paper towels as you go. I tend to fry 2 pieces at a time to ensure the oil doesn’t lose too much temperature. Note that the fried chicken will be a deep mahogany colour. This is because the sugars in the marinade caramelize as the chicken cooks, not because you’ve burnt it.
Serve, covered with deep-fried garlic or shallot.
Simply put, this is nothing more than an egg poached in a wok of hot oil. Why? Because there’s nothing better than cutting that yolk open, and letting it dribble down on to fried rice or a plate of rice with Pad Krapow (Holy Basil Stir-fry, see here).
Makes as many as you require
300 ml/10 fl oz/1¼ cups vegetable oil
eggs (as many as you require)
In a small wok, heat the oil until it’s as hot as you dare. Then, crack in an egg – be careful, it will spit – and cook, basting in the oil, until the white is crispy at the edges but the yolk within remains runny. Set aside on paper towels. Bring the oil back to its full, furious heat, and repeat as often as necessary.
~ Make two of these, plate them and dress with a basic yum dressing (see here) and you’ll have a yum kai dao. ~
A lot of Thais like to eat this kind of simple omelette with a meal, but you will rarely find it on a menu because it’s assumed that every cook knows how to make one. It acts as a neutral foil to the other dishes on the table. On its own, with rice and a dot of Sriracha sauce, it’s also excellent comfort food.
Bear in mind that this is completely unlike a European or American omelette. You are almost deep-frying it in the wok, which gives it a fluffy texture; you don’t fold it in on itself; and you flip the whole thing over in its cooking oil to complete cooking, not unlike a Spanish tortilla.
Serves 2–4 as part of a meal
3 eggs
freshly ground white pepper
1 spring onion (scallion), finely sliced diagonally
1–2 tbsp minced (ground) pork or white crab meat (optional)
a squeeze of lime juice
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
90 ml/3 fl oz/⅓ cup vegetable oil
fresh coriander (cilantro) leaves, to garnish
In a small bowl, beat the eggs lightly together with the white pepper, spring onion, the pork or crab, if using (if you are, make sure the meat is well distributed through the egg), and the lime juice. Then add the nam pla, and beat it in too. Set aside.
Heat a wok over the highest heat until it’s smoking. Then add the oil, and heat until it shimmers – get it as hot as you dare. Add the eggs and cook until they begin to set, then turn the whole omelette – its base should be invitingly golden-brown – and cook for a further 20 seconds or so. Don’t worry if it breaks; it doesn’t have to be neat, and the last bit of cooking will bind it together.
Remove from the hot oil to drain on paper towels (you might also want to blot the top). Then plate it, garnished with coriander leaves, and serve at once.
A whole fried fish is something of a statement dish, and always proves popular. There must be over a hundred slight regional variations all across Thailand. I’ve had a deep-fried snakehead fish in Kanchaburi, smothered in a rich tamarind and cashew nut sauce; tiny crispy cotton fish in Khon Kaen with a dipping sauce; and deep-fried bass in gaeng som in Chiang Mai, which you can easily make using the recipe on here, leaving out the prawns (shrimp) and the omelette, and using the frying method here.
Serves 4
for the fish
1 sea bass, tilapia, snapper, sea bream or mullet (about 1 kg/2 lb 4 oz), gutted and scaled
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
vegetable oil, for frying
Cut diagonal slashes in both sides of the fish, then marinate it in the nam pla for about 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, make either of the sauces below or overleaf.
When you’re ready to fry, dry the fish thoroughly with paper towels. Heat 8–10 cm/3–4 inches of oil in a wok to 180°C/350°F, then fry the fish gently until it’s golden brown and cooked through – how long this takes will depend on the size of your fish. Set aside to drain on paper towels while you finish the sauce.
for the nam pla sauce
4 tbsp palm sugar
4 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
In small saucepan over a low heat, entirely dissolve the palm sugar in 4 tbsp water, then bring it to the boil. Add the nam pla, stir to combine, then remove from the heat.
Fry the fish as above. When it has drained of excess oil, place the fish on a warm platter and either pour the sauce over the top or serve it in a small bowl on the side.
Serve with the Yum Mamuang (Green Mango Salad, see here) on the side, omitting the deep-fried squid or fish and stirring 3–4 chopped fresh Thai bird’s eye chillies through it instead.
for the paste
2 tbsp coriander (cilantro) root (see here), chopped
a pinch of sea salt
4 long fresh chillies, deseeded and chopped
4 garlic cloves, peeled
4 Thai shallots or 2 regular shallots, peeled
for the sauce
1 tbsp vegetable oil
125 g/4½ oz palm sugar
2 tbsp tamarind paste (purée)
2 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
to garnish
2 long dried red chillies
a handful of Thai basil
In a pestle and mortar, pound together the paste ingredients in the order listed until smooth.
Heat a wok over a medium heat, then add the oil. When it’s hot, fry the paste until fragrant, about 1 minute or so. Then, add the palm sugar, tamarind paste and the nam pla. Stir together until the sugar has dissolved, adding 2 tbsp water if the sauce looks dry. Taste for balance – it should be sweet, sour, hot and salty – then remove from the heat and set aside.
Fry the fish according to the method on here, then deep-fry the garnish ingredients until the leaves are crispy. Drain on paper towels.
To serve, place the fish on a warm platter. Pour the sauce over the fish, then crush the fried chillies and scatter them with the basil leaves over the top.
Hua Hin has changed a lot since I was small. Where once it was a sleepy seaside town with one glorious old-fashioned hotel, it is now a heaving resort with hundreds of condos, hotels, and girly bars. It’s changed so much that now I have just three reasons to go there.
The first is its fantastic covered day market, Chat Chai, right in the centre of town, where I frequently go to stock up on dried shrimp and the best palm sugar I have found anywhere in the world. The second is Baan Bayan, a boutique hotel in a buttercup yellow, early twentieth-century house, which remains one of my favourite places to unwind, and which has an adorable cat called Cheese. And the third is Chao Lay, a restaurant that juts out into the sea on a pier.
I have been coming to Chao Lay for as long as I can remember. The seafood is excellent, the waiters have a charming piratical swagger, and the owners are friends. What’s not to like?
I love this dish so much that I order it practically every time I visit. The chef Khun Nai thought I ought to have the recipe.
Serves 2, or 4 as a part of a larger Thai meal
2 squid (about 25–30 cm/10–12 inches long), cleaned and cut into rings
2 heaped tbsp roughly chopped garlic
1 heaped tsp stock (bouillon) powder
1 tbsp light soy sauce
2 heaped tsp ground white pepper
2 heaped tbsp plain (all-purpose) flour
vegetable oil, for deep-frying
deep-fried garlic (see here), to serve (optional)
Put the squid into a bowl, and add the garlic, stock powder, soy sauce and pepper. Mix lightly but thoroughly with your hands. Add the flour, and lightly mix again with your hands.
In a large deep wok, heat enough vegetable oil for deep-frying until hot. Using your hands, carefully separate the squid pieces and put them into your frying basket or ladle. Lower the squid into the hot fat, and deep-fry for about 2 minutes, moving the squid in the fat to make sure it cooks evenly, until it is crisp and golden.
Drain on paper towels and pat dry.
If you like, serve with some deep-fried garlic scattered on top.
