Simple Thai Food

This review is by request from my boyfriend. As part of Food 52’s Cookbook Club, I spent April cooking almost exclusively from Leela Punyaratabandhu’’s Simple Thai Food (STF), and my boyfriend loved it. He’s usually reluctant when I go on a cookbook binge because it quickly becomes “too much of the same” or the beautiful photos convince me that this time we’re going to actually enjoy beets. After STF, he wasn’t looking for excuses to splurge on a fun restaurant or to ignore leftovers. “Are you going to write a review of this book?” he asked. “Because you really, really should.”

More signs that this book is special:

I found myself cooking more after long days at work because recipes rarely took me over 20 minutes and were restaurant quality. When we did order takeout, we would throw out the dipping sauces that it came with and use the Satay and Sweet Chili Sauce we had leftover from STF instead. One day I microwaved all the scraggly vegetables I had wilting in the fridge and put them on the table next to a bowl of the STF satay sauce. All the vegetables were devoured before I finished cooking the rest of the meal.

cucumber and red onion
Cucumber Relish

My boyfriend was right; this book deserves my words and the small bit of promotion that I can give it by talking about it on this blog. Not that it needs them; Punyaratabandhu is already food-Internet-famous from running shesimmers.com for almost a decade. Simple Thai Food was her first cookbook, featuring the kind of easy things that she cooks at home on a weeknight as well as the Thai favorites that her U.S. readers are familiar with from their local restaurants. It maintains the delicate balance between “authentic” and flyover state friendly, assuming that readers in the flyover states can find lemongrass and magroot leaves.  She demands that a home chef follow the recipe exactly if you want to do it right, but experience has shown me that the recipes are flexible enough to accommodate changes no matter what she says. My enormous local Asian market didn’t have galangal, which is integral to the sour Tom Kha Gai. It may not have been authentic, but the enthusiastic slurping around my kitchen table that night demonstrated that no one minded.

noodle stir-fry in a wok
Drunkard’s Noodles

If it weren’t as flexible, I would not have stuck to it with the level of dedication that I did. One of the initial drawbacks of the book, for me, was that the book appears extremely meat-heavy. There’s one non-meat mushroom stir-fry and the headnote makes it sound like she only added it a special concession to vegetarians. After experimenting, I learned that in most recipes, the protein can easily be swapped out. She may eat only chicken in her Rice Noodles “Drunkard’s Style,” but the chicken contributes so little that tofu works just as well, maybe even better since it sponges up the flavor. You’ll definitely want something like tofu to mop up the flavor in the restaurant favorite Chicken-Cashew Stir-Fry because the sweet brown sauce that the thin crescents of onion and fried cashews are tossed in is phenomenal. In the Phanaeng Curry with Chicken and Kabocha Squash, the chicken can’t compete with the sweet richness of the pumpkin or the herbaceous sauce. If I make it again, I might swap the protein out entirely for bamboo shoots which are as toothsome as the pumpkin is soft. It might not be as “authentic”, a word that Punyaratabandhu tosses around quite often in the headnotes, but it would not be unrecognizable and will still certainly be delicious.

There, I did it. I can tell my boyfriend that I reviewed the book and without taking up so much time that I can’t step into the kitchen and whip up another stir-fry tonight.

Pok Pok

“Kill the crab.”

So begins one of the recipes in Pok Pok, the cookbook spinoff of Andy Ricker’s eponymous Portland restaurant specializing in Northern Thai cuisine. Ricker doesn’t shy away from the fact that this cookbook is for the committed, for those ready to learn how to kill a crab before dinner. Even if you choose to start with your ingredients already incapacitated, you will still be in for an evening of work. Making your own curry paste is a given since the paste is the central flavoring component of most dishes. Ricker demands more than just making the paste by hand; he describes the two different types of mortar and pestles that you should buy to do so. You will have to track down not only the infamous live crabs, but also blood and banana leaves. Substitutions are frowned upon.

Ricker understands what he is asking, and in the introductory materials he reassures the reader several times that this is necessary. “Some dishes can’t be replicated at home with concessions to convenience,” he warns. If you do adapt the dishes to the point of being unrecognizable, he will sigh, but understand, because he “wouldn’t be upset if it simply helped you make great food at home.” In testing these recipes, I tried to follow the instructions as closely as seemed reasonable. I didn’t go out and buy a mortar and pestle; I used my coffee grinder. My grocer didn’t have fresh Chinese noodles so I settled for dried; which led to extra complication and a small disaster later when I had to separately fry some, but that was my own fault. Even after making adjustments to the recipes to make it easier for me as a home cook, my testing companion and I still found it to be quite a lot of work.

When we sat down to eat our hard earned meal, all our suffering was redeemed. Everything was unbelievably delicious. I don’t think I’ve tested another cookbook where every single dish I tried was “Oh Em Geeeeeee!” good. This became the type of meal where dinner conversation disappears after the first bite and all you can hear is slurping and burping. The Khao Soi Kai, a coconut-based curry from the Ching Mai province, was rich and fragrant. The fried egg salad caused great skepticism as we were preparing it. The proportions of greens and eggs seemed off; the dressing tasted too spicy to eat. When it all came together, it turned out that Ricker was exactly right about everything and we were wrong to doubt. The stir fried water spinach was so delicious we fought over who would have the last serving. The sauce used in that recipe is going to become my default stir fry sauce from here on out. This might have been one of the tastiest dinners I’ve ever cooked in my tiny apartment kitchen.

Going into this book expecting the immersive education experience of a culinary tour guide book like Burma: Rivers of Flavor may lead to disappointment. Ricker editorializes too often, compromises too little. If you approach this cookbook as you might a celebrity chef’s manifesto instead, with a little humility and a lot of determination, you will benefit more from the experience, and the delicious smells of Northern Thailand wafting about your kitchen will be your rewards.