Dear Family and Friends,

Besides offering a myriad of opportunities for walking, breathing, and buying used paperbacks, Chang Mai is a city packed with restaurants. And some of these restaurants are quite good. While diligently eschewing normal tourist activities in favor of responding to Web job advertisements, I often rewarded myself for good behavior by planning excursions to new parts of town, to new restaurants and I had a few memorable meals.

My first dinner in Chang Mai proved prescient. In a dark, open air garden, guarded by curly mosquito repelling incenses set in beer cans, under the pinging rain upon a corrugated roof, my first dinner was at a Thai place called The Wok. That dinner was lovely as I harkened back to my Bangkok cooking class with an appetizer of tender chicken cooked in pandanus leaves and an entrée of roasted duck in red curry plus Northern Thai sticky rice and lemon “water” juice with shaved ice, decorated with an orchid. Delicious. And amusing because although I ate alone, there was a waiter that I became immediately friendly with who teased me about wanting to read the menu all the way through (he kept mock-threatening to charge me 100 THB for the pleasure). My second dinner at The Wok was late into another rainy evening and frankly, I wasn’t very hungry so I ordered an appetizer plus sticky rice. The appetizer was called “Galloping Horses” and was a mixture of ground shrimp + pork + herbs, cooked and stuffed into slits in pieces of orange or topped slices of sweet pineapple. The combination of sweet plus savory proved literally mouthwatering. I have not yet seen this dish listed on any other Thai menu but you can bet that I’ll be keeping an eye out for it as well as a recipe. I splurged on my final dinner at The Wok, my final evening in Chang Mai. I ordered fried “ruby fish” with garlic and pepper, a pandanus leaves drink, and banana cake for dessert. A whole, good-sized fish was set before me, resting on a blue and white fish-shaped platter, topped with bunches of green peppercorns, garlic shavings, and fried kaffir lime leaves. It was hard to be delicate and well-mannered when tearing into the fish and necessity sometimes had me spitting out the bones so I sat at my semi-lit table, white lights draped from the rafters, candles flickering and tore into the poor thing. It was amazing – the fish was tender and the flavorings complemented rather than overwhelmed or detracted. The drink was refreshing. The Thai banana cake – which is truly closer to a steamed pudding – was sans leaf the leaf that they steam it in but heavy with fresh-tasting bananas and not too sweet… And the bill for my splurge? 283 THB - ~$7.50. The Wok was my favorite place for dinner in Chang Mai.

Unsurprisingly, I discovered my favorite lunch place (which did not have an English named posted) based on dessert. I am on constant watch for the classic Thai dessert of mangoes and sticky rice and I was originally enticed by a scrawled sign for the dessert priced at 20 THB ($.50). That first time, it had just begun to rain and so I looked in to the place with many Thais sitting at the plastic tables and I said aloud “sold!” before stepping in for a plate of fried noodles, a glass of iced ginger tea, and, yes, mango and sticky rice. The fried noodles were cheap and the portion quite small, which rendered the rationalization of dessert simple. Between the decent quality food, the cheap price, the excellent ginger tea not to mention the mangoes, I was set for lunch although it took a good week before I stopped getting lost on my way there. In fact on more than one occasion, I put off eating or tried other restaurants due to navigational difficulties until I finally realized that the darn place was in the shadow of a brick gate that I full-well knew the location of. (There was a Starbucks on the other side that gate, no doubt a contributing factor). (For the record, I went to Starbucks three times in two weeks. V. respectable).

You may ask, how did I select places to eat? The Lonely Planet (“LP”) proved to be informative about restaurants but I learned after a few tries that it was a guide for safe food versus good food. Of course, it is not the LP’s fault that my criteria for good food exceeds the average traveler’s. For example, LP was borderline effusive about the restaurant that I celebrated my job acceptance at, which proved expensive and mediocre. Another LP recommendation was Huaen Phen a classic Northern Thai restaurant with dark wood, dark textiles, and heavy, carved antiques. The food was Northern Thai, too, however the pork that I consumed that night obviously did not agree with me and I spent the next day regretting that meal. However, to be fair to LP, they were almost enthusiastic about a fusion restaurant called The House, and they were right on that account.

Also, during my first Chang Mai bookstore foray, I purchased a colorful map by one Nancy Chandler (“NC”), an American artist who splits her time between San Francisco and map-making in Thailand. Her map of Chang Mai is truly an artistic rendering and acted as a stylized visual guide for my city walks with unique listings such as pubs, shops that support causes, museums and more. One night I went searching for dinner sans map and I stumbled across a row of shops, each with hideous plastic flowers arranged on wicker wreathes. Later, thanks to NC’s map, I realized that these shops were Chinese Funeral arrangement shops. During the day, they have several models of claw-footed, gold lacquered coffins on display as well and the ascetic combination is repulsive enough to put me off dying forever! Dad, Mom, sisters, if you are reading this, I can safely assure you that my last wishes will never, ever include Chinese funeral flower arrangements.

Oops! I digress.

Anyway, through trial and error, I found that a combination of LP plus NC could guide me through the city, to good food. If LP listed a place but NC did not, I did not select that restaurant. It was through this method, that I had a lovely cheese and bacon sandwich at “The Amazing Sandwich,” a burrito at “The Art Café” and a green tea + mint iced tea and a chocolate waffle at the Siam Celadon tea room. Good meals, all.

I never ate anything intolerable although I did have many mediocre meals. My first breakfast was at a guesthouse and momentarily forgetting that I was in Thailand, I impulsively ordered the “German” breakfast because it included Gouda cheese and cold cuts. Big mistake. The cheese was salty and almost bitter and the cold cuts all resembled salami but were supposed to be ham (I couldn’t touch them). Latter breakfasts were supplied by my Paddy Fields hotel and I duly tried the “American,” “Continental,” and Thai breakfasts before concluding that the American was the best choice. Eggs (fried but very runny until I talked them into scrambling them), white toast with hard butter (that I learned to soften between by placing between the two pieces of warm toast), and coffee. A memorable mediocre dinner occurred one night after I had purchased the Lonely Planet guide to Japan, spent the entire day reading up on Japan and fruitlessly applying for Japanese jobs. I felt as if the hand of the divine had guided me to a dark soi and to a Japanese place. Well, I felt as if I had been guided until I tried the food. No, being on the same continent of the originating country does not ensure good food. Another night I was very tired and troubled myself to walk only as far as the restaurant abutting my hotel, only to discover why the place is generally empty: the only item on the menu that was half-appealing was fried rice and the live band was terrible – a salient fact that kept my hotel window for the majority of my nights in Chang Mai. Well, that and the discovery of a small gecko scrambling across the terracotta tiles of my bedroom floor.

Yet it was a posh restaurant in an old-style Thai mansion built by an exiled Burmese prince that provided me with my two best meals. Non-fancily dubbed “The House,” and listed by both LP & NC, I was intrigued to read that there was a tapas place of some repute in Chang Mai. I made it a priority to walk there while it was still light one evening and I spent the entire evening, a happy bar fly. First, I was lead into a gorgeous, open air bar, decorated with carved wood lanterns, pounded silver tables, and comfortably cushioned furniture. The bar was utterly empty and after I had placed my order for a drink called “Original Sin” and a plate of the appetizer tapas (my dinner), the waitress gleefully informed me that it was Happy Hour and that she’d be bringing me two of everything I ordered. I laughed but didn’t refuse. And happy I soon became.

Original Sin turned out to be a mixed drink of lime, pastis and two other ingredients (I cannot currently locate my notes for an exact description). It was fresh, tart, alcoholic and splendid. I snuggled my lower back against my chair’s cushions, crossed my legs, closed my eyes and smiled blissfully. I planned only one drink and I meant to savor every sip. And then the tapas arrived and I was truly in hog heaven: sushi grade tuna, covered in sesame seeds and placed on a bed of Thai flavored cabbage, 3 mussels, still in their shells, covered in a tomato sauce, chicken sate complete with peanut sauce, fire-roasted prawns, and one heavenly piece of bruschetta comprised of ok French bread and sweet basil + tomato + fresh mozzarella. It had been that same day when I was coaching myself to get over my craving for caprese and enjoy Thai food while it lasted… and the very first thing in my mouth that evening was fresh mozzarella. Oh, it wasn’t as good as can be but it was good enough – and although the tuna was a bit chewy, the rest of the food was delicious. And the best part? There were two plates of tapas. Consequently, I was able to hungrily eat through the first plate and then I slowly relished the second. When I was done, the waitress appeared at my elbow and she and I proceeded to have a long English-speaking practice session. When that petered out, the waitress kindly brought me another drink under the 2-1 happy hour policy. Life was good. As I was working my way through that second drink, a few people walked in and settled themselves amongst the bar, including a really nice, kindred Canadian lady. She and I started talking and talking and talking and we stopped talking around... 11:30 pm when we exchanged names, blog addresses, etc. Happy Hours were always a favorite Seattle past-time… my Seattle happy hour friends would’ve loved, just loved The House.

It was during my English practice session with The House waitress “Oi” that I learned about the seven course pre-fix meal at The House for the grand sum of 700 THB - $18.64. Gentle readers, you all know me well enough to know that there came an evening when I dined in a ice-blue painted dining room with vaulted ceilings, at a linen-covered table sprinkled with rose petals. It was after a day of perturbment not at all improved by my foregoing lunch. My seven courses did not count the starter of a crusty roll and my first course became a goat cheese and tomato torte, lined with pesto sauce. Next came a warm spinach and soy bean soup which was immediately followed by a soft-shelled crab with wakame sea weed and passion fruit jelly. Yes, this sounds odd but it was fusion, not strange, and my enjoyment escalated with every course. It was some time later when home-smoked sea scallops in a bed of greens arrived – this wasn’t the best. I was beginning to be a bit filled at the point that the next course of seared tuna loin served with avocado & caper relish arrived. And I could’ve used a second opinion: do tuna have loins???

How many courses are we at? 5? Number 6 was probably my favorite: hoison-marinated duck breast on Japanese pumpkin risotto with a side of orange glazed white asparagus. The risotto wasn’t superb but every bit of the tender duck was. Yum. At that point, two obnoxious men and their tittering girlfriends were seated at the table behind me. You’d think, especially as I was dining alone, that I would’ve been pleased by the opportunity for obnoxious people-watching but the guys were howling and not so long afterwards singing the wedding march, encouraged by giggling girls. Yuck. Best case scenario: those guys were plastered. Worst-case scenario: those guys were obnoxious. Either way, I was grateful to detect a very strong British accent from the conversation between the howls. Finally, a strong cup of coffee and a rhubarb spear poached in grenadine and accompanied by vanilla ice cream appeared in front of me and subsequently disappeared. Even a visit to the second floor bathroom before my departure felt magic as each teak stair was lit by a candle. Can you blame me that night’s state of bliss?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a faithful account of my meals in Chang Mai.

Bon appetite!

Laura