Mizu Asian Bistro Bar’s executive chef Dylan Benoit spent the summer in Asia with his brother Lucas, exploring the region’s cuisines, techniques and ingredients, with the aim of enhancing and further perfecting the menu at Mizu. In the final article of a five-part series, he shares his culinary adventures.
Khao San Road in Bangkok, Thailand, is the stuff of backpacking legends. Hailed as a “backpacker ghetto,” it is a major hub for travelers from all over the world. Bangkok is a major start-and-stop point in southeast Asia because it has the largest and most central airport in the area. In 2013, tourism in Thailand amounted to more than 16 percent of the country’s GDP, and Time magazine named Bangkok the most visited city in the world. It’s no wonder that Thailand, and Bangkok in particular, has everything for the wandering spirit – from the beautiful and sublime to the wicked and weird. Whether you are after a wild party, live Thai kickboxing or a transgender companion, Bangkok has you covered. We, however, were here for the food.
As soon as we got out of the taxi at the top of Khao San Road, we needed to eat. Over the past five weeks. we had eaten our body weight in rice, noodles, broth, sir fry, curries, dumplings and even wood ants, so when we stood at the head of Khao San Road and I saw those big, golden arches illuminated in the evening light, I almost ran for the door, my tongue hanging out of my mouth.
It is often the case that after a long period traveling, one begins to miss the familiarity of the food they know, but while I was succumbing to my weakness for two processed “all beef” patties, lettuce, cheese, pickles and onions, on a sesame seed bun, Lucas had been scoping out the street venders. Just as McDonald’s Golden Arches started to lure me in, he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me toward a wiry man in a blue-and-white striped apron.
The man behind the small cart was all smiles, but not all teeth, and his menu boasted Pad Thai served four ways: with egg, with chicken and egg, with shrimp and egg or with chicken, shrimp and egg, in addition to spring rolls. I quickly snapped out of my McDonald’s daze as soon as I heard the clanging of his cooking utensils on the iron plate, quickly stir frying the egg and vegetables together for our first Pad Thai in Thailand. Before I could figure out all the sauces and accoutrement he had laid out on the front ledge of his mobile restaurant, he was handing us two small rectangular Styrofoam plates, each piled high with noodles, vegetables and shrimp.
The aroma was amazing, salty and sweet. We didn’t even bother to find a place to sit, we just stood there in the middle of the street with our bags, shoveling piping hot noodles into our mouths as fast as we could. I have had many Pad Thais in my life but none like this. I was so enthralled with my noodles that when there was no more on my plate for my chopsticks to pick up, I had a silent panic attack and promptly ordered us two more, with a side of spring rolls because, well, why not?
This time I kept my eyes on the cook. He tossed, sprinkled, sauced and fried, without even looking it seemed, boasting a lackadaisical confidence that comes with making the same dish, day in and day out. I watched intently, asking him what each ingredient was and estimating its weight or volume in my head, compiling a recipe I could test when I returned to Mizu.
It never ceases to amaze me that the street food I have had on my travels around Asia is consistently better than in restaurants. There is magic in the simplicity and unpretentiousness of eating out of a Styrofoam container or tucking into something that was grilled on a stick.
We track down our hotel, drop the bags off and head back to the street. Rather unassuming during the day, Khao San Road looks like any other entertainment district with bars and restaurants on both sides of the street, speckled with tailors hawking custom-made suits and stalls selling pirated DVDs and knock-off head phones. The odd mobile cart meanders the 1-kilometer strip selling fresh pineapple and lychees to hungover tourists in need of some serious vitamin intake.
At a roadside restaurant, we find a table where we recap our trip, discussing the places we went, the people we met, as well as the epic (and not so epic) meals we had along the way. We order a Tower of Chang, the equivalent to two pitchers in a tall cylinder with an ice core and try to absorb our surroundings as the night goes on. Every three minutes, someone comes by trying to sell bracelets, magic tricks, or just to beg for coins. A large lady comes by with a tray full of deep-fried scorpions on sticks, like some kind of twisted popsicle, exclaiming she has the cheapest prices in town at only $2.50 apiece. We politely decline, but a traveler at the table next to us agrees to buy one for his friend and we all watch with a mixture of surprise and disgust as he crunches down on the scorpion’s poisonous tail. He gags and spits but his friends aren’t letting him get off that easily.
They taunt him to finish the scorpion, and like a champion, he does. Cheering and jeering ensue, and another Tower is ordered as a makeshift trophy. We join their table and relish in travel stories for what seems like hours.
Tomorrow was going to be our last day before returning to Hong Kong and our bus was picking us up at 8 a.m. to go to the airport. Luc and I check the time; it’s getting late and we have to pack tonight, so we excuse ourselves from the table and head back to the hotel. En route we pass our friend slinging Pad Thai and he waves to us from across the street.
“You hungry?”Luc asks me.
“Not at all” I said, “but this may be out last chance.”
We walk over and are greeted with a massive toothless smile.
“Two shrimp and egg,” Luc says
“And an order of spring rolls,” I add, because, well … why not?
Related Videos
