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best wishes Natacha
Phia Sing’s personal collection of Lao recipes has just been republished in a new and fine edition by Tom Jaine of Prospect books. It is a seminal work and would make the most fabulous and unique Christmas present. Here’s a link to buy it, go on, you know you want it. Traditional Recipes Of Laos
A few years ago I read a sentence in the ‘Lonely Planet Guide’ stating that there was only one book in print on Lao cuisine written in the English language. For someone, like me that was just too tempting.
This was like a food-tourist equivalent of a whodunit: a real treasure hunt. I had to find that book.
The lone cookbook was called “Traditional Recipes of Laos” and was printed by Prospect Books, a tiny publisher of culinary academia and rare recipes. I placed my order and within a week I had it in my hand. A slim, cream paperback, exquisitely illustrated with delicate pen-and-ink drawings. It was a real find, for it contained the recipes of the late king of Laos’s chef, Phia Sing – the recipes of the royal court of Laos!
The book was fascinating. The forward included essays on Lao eating habits, culinary equipment and “unusual ingredients – illustrated and explained”. The recipes had intriguing titles, like ‘Deer prepared as a salad’, ‘Pickled fish roe cooked in banana leaf packets’, and ‘Sour wild chicken soup’.
As I relayed my excitement to the ladies at ‘Books for Cooks’, they told me that the owner of Prospect Books was none other than the ex-ambassador to Laos, Alan Davidson. He’d started the publishing company when he retired from the diplomatic service in 1975 and was one of the world’s foremost authorities on food, particularly fish and fish cookery. He had just finished compiling ‘The Oxford Companion to Food’, an encyclopaedic work which came out in 1999 to great acclaim.
So, that’s how I found myself knocking on Alan Davidson’s door in Chelsea. He had just arrived home from his office and greeted me, wearing a floral-patterned sun hat and carrying a bright orange patent-plastic shopping bag full of papers. A silver Buddhist medallion glinted at his neckline. Aged about seventy-five, with thick grey hair and a wicked expression, he reminded me of an absent professor. His appearance however, belied a mind like a bear-trap. As I got to know him over the coming months I noticed that he remembered every word I ever said to him. Sometimes he lost patience with my occasionally dreamy approach to life.
We sat down to tea in his living room and in his distinctive cultured drawl, he began to tell me the extraordinary story behind the book.
“Ohhhh, I was in Luang Prabang, and as a matter of courtesy I called on the Crown Prince. We were having a bit of a boring conversation when I mentioned the book I was writing, ‘Fish and Fish Dishes of Laos’. [Davidson subsequently published this – a catalogue of Lao fish species that included a score of recipes, in 1975.]
Well! He became all at once, interested and interesting and said ‘One moment I’ve just remembered something.’ He brought out these two French notebooks with lots and lots of Lao writing. ‘These are the notebooks of Phia Sing, the man who was the tutor to the royal princes and the royal Chef.’ Said the Prince. ‘He was also the court choreographer, Master of Ceremonies and attended to many, many other things. When he died he left behind these recipe books. In fact there were three, but I can’t find the other one. If you would like to borrow them you may.’
Alan looked at me conspiratorially from under his lashes.
“Mmmm, please, I said, I was convinced there must be fish recipes in them and there were. So I photocopied them and gave a set to the national library (I hope they still have them) and then returned the original notebooks to him.”
As he poured me some more tea and I noticed that he wore a watch on both wrists and his cuffs were shaggy with ‘good luck’ cotton strings tied on during the mysterious Lao ‘Baci’ ceremony.
“So then I called on the widow of Phia Sing.” He continued. “She was a very charming and dignified lady. She, in effect, determined we would become publishers by saying that if we could get the notebooks published, then Phia could rest in peace.”
He laughed and raised his eyes, “She was intonating that Phia could NOT rest in peace unless this happened. It was his DYING wish.”
This chance encounter with the Prince and the notebooks became an act of preservation, soon after this conversation, the communist party – the ‘Pathet Lao’ took over the country, dissolved the monarchy and the original books were lost forever.
Alan Davidson published a translation of the notebooks in 1981, giving the proceeds to the Laotian political refugees fleeing from the country’s re-education camps, thus ensuring the only written record of royal Lao cuisine available at the time.
I wanted to know more about Lao food and grilled Alan many times about what made it unique. He was extremely kind and helpful towards me but even though he has lived there, written a book of Lao fish species and edited Phia’s recipe book he would not be drawn into any detail unless I referred specifically to fish. Instead, he encouraged me to go and find out for myself.
I did, and then wrote my own book about the adventure – Ant Egg Soup (which you can also buy, to make it a set!) I became friends with Alan who was one of the most interesting and entertaining people it has ever been my pleasure to meet. I also befriended Soun, who drew the exquisite illustrations that pepper the translation of Phia’s book and who taught me some delicious recipes of his own. Happy days.
Prospect Books was founded by the late Alan Davidson and his wife Jane Davidson in 1979, at the same time as their journal of food history Petits Propos Culinaires. Since 1993, Prospect Books has been owned by Tom Jaine. Prospect Books continues to publish books only about cookery, food history and the ethnology of food. It is one of the very few British publishers to specialise in this field and produces four to eight books a year. Petits Propos Culinaires is published three times a year and contains articles, sometimes extracts from books or reprints, as well as reviews of current publications.
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This is a fragrant treat for the barbeque on a Summer’s eve. The chicken is pounded with aromatic herbs and wrapped in banana leaf, then barbequed The chicken steams in the banana leaf and the charcoal adds that faint hint of smokiness that is so frequently found in Lao cuisine. Yum.
125g uncooked sticky rice
4 stalks of lemon grass, sliced (or 6 kaffir lime leaves)
8 cloves of garlic
3 shallots, peeled and sliced
2 spring onions (green part only)
10 basil leaves, sliced
500g chicken cut into small pieces
1 tablespoon fish sauce or a tsp salt
1. Soak the rice in warm water for half an hour or so, rinse three times and drain off the water.
2. Using either a food processor or more traditionally, a pestle and mortar blend or pound the soaked sticky rice, lemongrass, garlic, shallots and spring onions.
3. When the mixture becomes a rough paste, add the chicken and basil and pound/blend again to create a mousse-like texture. Then add the fish sauce and eggs and mix them in with a spoon.
4. Take you banana leaves and wash them. Blanche the banana leaves in boiling water from the kettle. This cleans the leaves and also softens the fibres which helps prevent splitting when you wrap the chicken mixture.
5. Place a leaf on a chopping board and cut a square about 12cm (6”) wide. Cut away the hard stem, this will help when wrapping. Add a couple of heaped tablespoons of the chicken in the centre of the leaf. Fold the leaf into a packet and tie with kitchen twine.6. Grill on a BBQ for 5 minutes or so turning half way through. Open one to check it is cooked through and replace on the BBQ for a few minutes more if needed.
I’m moving – follow my new Lao Food site https://anteggsoup.wordpress.com/
I’ve had mushrooms in my veg box for the fifth week running which put me in mind of a recipe taught to me by Seng Sone Darasavath, at the Darasavath guesthouse in the Northern Lao town of Luang Nam Tha. Seng Sone was an extrovert, thirty-year-old single mother who ran her own business in Laos with canny charm. She spoke English and Chinese and crocheted hats at great speed in between capably multi-tasking the business and looking after her excitable toddler, Micky.
The evening I arrived, she took the time to sit down and introduce herself to me, whilst coping with twenty raucous communist party officials on a drunken night out, and offered to teach me to cook the meal I ate on my first night there – chicken and potato curry, served with a plate of steamed vegetables and two super hot jaew, one made with fermented shrimp paste and another with mushrooms.
Jaew is pounded sauce or rough paste, the main ingredient of which is chilli. The varieties are endless, and you may wish to try my tomato jaew recipe on my blog link here. Seng Sone’s jaew was extremely hot; she used twenty bird’s eye chillies for one small bowl, though today I used four, as I didn’t want to my guests to detonate during our barbeque.
Seng Sone had big plans to build another guesthouse and restaurant in the hills ten kilometres away near her family’s poppy fields, and I’m sure a woman of such determination is now the head of a mini-empire in the region. I still have a delicate crocheted hat she presented to me when I left the area and, of course, her recipes to share.
4 -20 birds eye chillies, seared, stalks removed
1 head of garlic, seared black and then peeled
2 shallots, seared black and then peeled
a little peanut or sunflower oil
½ tsp coarse sea salt
1 tblsp of paa dek or alternatively, Thai fish sauce. (see paa dek notes at the end of the recipe)
10 Basil leaves
Baste the mushrooms with a little oil and grill until juicy. Set aside.
Spear the chillies, garlic, and shallots on a skewer. Then sear them over an open flame (gas ring or even a candle if desperate) until well they begin to blacken.
Rub off the worst of the soot and discard the onion and garlic skins. Roughly chop up the onion and garlic, leaving the chilli to one side.
Transfer everything to a pestle and mortar in the order below and pound until they turn to rough paste.
First pound the chillies and salt pound to a paste then add the garlic and paa dek (or fish sauce) and keep pounding.
Next add the shallots and when they have reached paste form add the sliced grilled mushrooms and pound some more. You may need a spoon to scrape the mixture around as you pound it. I prefer the mushrooms to stay in larger lumps so I only pound for about ½ a minute.
Add the basil leaves and pound some more. Serve with sticky rice.
Paa-dek is a condiment of fish chunks mixed with brine, rice dust and rice husks. These ingredients are fermented in large pottery jars for up to a year to produce a salty fishy sauce with a pungent aroma. This may sound a little off putting (remember, we eat fermented mouldy milk) but the taste is very similar to preserved anchovy fillets. The mixture may be used straight; or the fish chunks are washed of their rice husks and used alone; or the liquid is used without the fish chunks. I often saw people pour a ladle into a wok with another ladle of water, then hard boil it for a minute, sieve the result and use the flavoured water.
You can buy Thai and Philippino versions of paa-dek in jars which will give you the closest similar flavour .
Home made English Paa Dek water
Place 400ml of fish stock (or half a stock cube with 1/2 litre of water) in a small saucepan with ten tinned anchovy fillets (in oil). Bring to the boil and simmer for a few minutes until the anchovies have almost dissolved. Sieve out the lumps and boil vigorously for another few minutes to produce a salty, muddy brown liquid. Yum.
I’m moving – follow my new Lao Food site https://anteggsoup.wordpress.com/
Papaya salad in Laos and is always made with paa-dek. It is also a dish of huge popularity in Thailand, particularly in the Northeast, where it has many incarnations, according to the preference of the chef. It can be made with fish sauce instead of paa-dek or shrimp paste and sometimes with added ingredients such as dried prawns, crab, tamarind, chopped green beans and often, sugar. In Laos, I found it tended to be made simply, with unripe green papaya, lime, paa-dek (see directions at the end of the recipe) and no sugar, but it is a recipe that is constantly evolving. In Vientiane, a sour fruit, Mak Kaw (hog plum, a small orange fruit sometimes available in Asian stores) was a popular addition. The dish should be juicy and taste hot, sour, salty, sweet and garlicy with a hint of the piscine. It is very refreshing with a Lao Beer.
Living in the middle of the Dartmoor wilderness, green papayas are hard to find, these were a little on the pink side but hard and sour enough for this dish. Hog fruit? Impossible to find sadly.
Green Papaya Salad
2-6 birdseye chillies
2-4 small cloves of garlic, peeled
a pinch of salt
1 green papaya, skinned and shredded into matchstick thin strips
8 small cherry tomatoes cut into quarters
1 mak kaw fruit (Hog fruit, small round pips orangy flesh) very optional
3 tablespoons of paa-dek water or 1-3 tablespoosn tbspn or so of fish sauce
1 lime – juice of
10 salted peanuts, crushed (optional)
1/2 lime, cut into 8ths, leave the rind on.
Take a green unripe papaya and peel it with a vegetable peeler. To do this, place a dishcloth in one hand so the fruit does not slip and place the papaya on top of it in your palm. With the other hand use a cleaver or heavy chopping knife to chop at the flesh leaving many roughly parallel cuts.
Now take a pestle and mortar. Add the chilli, garlic and a pinch of salt and pound roughly (about 20 pounds) so the chilli is still in quite large pieces, not a paste.
Then add the papaya and pound gently using a spoon to turn the ingredients in on themselves.
Add the lime juice and paa-dek (instructions below) or fish sauce. Pound gently, a little more and then add the tomato and the Mak Kaw fruit. The tomato should just be bruised. Pound again and serve with lime wedges. You can add more lime or fish sauce to taste. I like to add a topping of salted peanuts too.
Look up the English turnip version I was shown by my friend Soun in London in my book – Ant Egg Soup The Adventures of a Food Tourist in Laos – now out of print but available from me if you wish to buy a signed copy.
The famous Paa-Dek of Laos
Paa-dek is a condiment of fish chunks mixed with brine, rice dust and rice husks. These ingredients are fermented in large pottery jars for up to a year to produce a salty fishy sauce with a pungent aroma. This may sound a little off putting (remember, Westerners eat fermented mouldy milk in the form of cheese!) but the taste is very similar to preserved anchovy fillets. The mixture may be used straight; or the fish chunks are washed of their rice husks and used alone; or the liquid is used without the fish chunks. I often observed people pouring a ladle into a wok with another ladle of water, then watched them hard boil it for a minute, sieve the result and use the flavoured water. Here I have done the same, using a mini frying pan.
Heat the pan until it is hot.
Mmm, yummy paa-dek!
I usually serve this refreshing salad on a large platter for everyone to help themselves. However, today I thought I’d try serving it in glasses like a prawn cocktail as I might make this as a starter for our Christmas meal. If serving in glasses you can to layer the salad rather than mixing it all in the bowl, then I spoon the dressing on top. I had ripe mangoes in the house but I personally prefer to make this with greener mangoes, but what can you do, in a wood in Devon? It’s still good. Enjoy.
2 mangoes, peeled and cubed
4 spring onions
250 g Bean sprouts
300g Cooked king prawns
A generous handful of coriander leaves
10 Basil leaves (Thai basil or Italian if you can’t get it)
A half handful of peanuts
Fresh chilli finely chopped
Serve with Nouc Cham sause as dressing
This is a dipping sauce that has many variations. Some are sweeter or more sour than others. You have to find your own balance. This makes 150ml so you will have some left over for another time.
1 chilli split and seeded
1 teaspoon of fine white sugar or more to taste, dissolve in hot water if necessary.
2 limes juice of (30ml)
60ml rice vinegar or mild low acid vinegar like cider vinegar
60ml fish sauce
To make the dressing, finely chop a red chilli and combine with fish sauce, lime juice, rice vinegar and caster sugar. Stir well to dissolve the sugar.
Peel the mango and dice the flesh, cutting around the stone. Take a large mixing bowl and place the chopped mango in it. Add the beansprouts.
Roughly chop coriander and basil and add this to the mango.
Finely slice the spring onions and add to the salad.
Add some cooked king prawns, then add the dressing a little at a time to taste.
Roughly pound some peanuts in a pestle and mortar. Slice the chilli
Serve topped with chopped peanuts and some extra fresh chilli.
( It works well using mint instead of basil, too)
I’m moving – follow my new Lao Food site https://anteggsoup.wordpress.com/
Jaew is pounded sauce or rough paste, the main ingredient of which is chilli: it is essential to a Lao meal. My favourite is Jaew Bong, a specialty of Luang Prabang made with buffalo skin (don’t be put off, it’s delicious).The varieties are endless, ranging from simple blends of chilli, salt and fresh herb leaves to unctuous condiments whose recipes are handed down through families. The secret of a really good one is to sear one or more of the ingredients on a charcoal fire. It is served in a separate bowl and everyone dips food into the communal dish rather than scoop a personal portion onto their plate.
In the North of Laos, jaews are so hot that when I first tried one it felt like someone had sneaked up behind me and slapped me on the back with a frying pan. I almost lost my breath, not to mention the roof of my mouth and my tongue. I soon got used to it and my chilli tolerance has gone up a thousand fold forever. Lao people believe chillies are beneficial in many ways. They stimulate the production of mucus in the stomach lining which protects it against irritation; they’re antiseptic, good for the circulation and excellent at clearing the respiratory system of excess phlegm. Try eating jaew next time you have a heavy cold, it works wonders.
Between 4 and 20 (depends on how hot you like it) fresh birds eye chillies, stalks removed.
3 cm piece galangal root, peeled then seared,blackened.
1/2 tsp rough sea salt
1 salted anchovy (Paa-dek is the authentic condiment to use here, in the UK we use salted anchovies (not oily ones) as a replacement, fish sauce is just about acceptable if you have none. Shrimp paste would be used in Thailand but the flavour tone is quite different.)
1 head garlic, seared blackened.
3 shallots, seared blackened.
500g/1lb small, flavourful tomatoes, chopped roughly.
1 the juice of one lime
1 handful coriander leaves or Thai basil leaves
A pinch sugar (optional)
Spear the chillies, garlic, galangal and shallot on a skewer. Then sear them over a open flame (gas ring or even a candle if desperate) until well they begin to blacken.
Transfer the vegetables to a pestle and mortar in the order below and pound until they turn to rough paste.
First pound the chillies, salt, and galangal, pound to a paste then add the garlic and anchovy and keep pounding. Next add the shallots and when they have reached paste form add the tomatoes a few at a time and pound them down. You may need a spoon to scrape the mixture around as you pound it.
Add the herbs.
Now add the lime juice and taste. You may want to add a pinch of sugar.
Chillies, of course, are not native to Laos but come from Mexico and the Americas. The Portuguese brought chillies to Southeast Asia when they arrived in Siam in 1511. Over the centuries, they replaced peppercorns (a native of Malabar, India) as the preferred spice of heat, starting as a subtler flavouring which built up over the years. My friend Khamtoune, believes that Lao food has become hotter, even in her lifetime. She came back from Laos recently and was shocked by the new strength of chilli use in her native Luang Prabang cuisine. She believes this to be the influence of Northern Thai cuisine brought in by the many Thai tourists in Laos.
The name ‘glutinous’ rice is misleading as the grain contains no gluten. The stickiness of the cooked rice is due to the combination of the carbohydrates in the starchy interior and this rice is steamed rather than boiled. Buy a packet of glutinous rice from an Asian store, it should be labelled clearly. Pour out as much as you would like to serve because it DOES NOT EXPAND when cooked like fluffy rice. Then put into a bowl with plenty of water and soak overnight, changing the water a couple of times. If you forgot to soak it overnight then you can soak it for a minimum of two hours but longer is better. Give the rice a final rinse and drain it. If you do not have a traditional bamboo steamer you can wrap the rice in fine muslin and steam it in a regular steamer.
The traditional steamer, a conical bamboo basket with matching aluminium pot, (available cheaply in Thai supermarkets) adds a certain perfume to the rice and is worth seeking out. First, fill the aluminium pot with about a litre of water, the water should not touch the bamboo basket. Place the bamboo basket on top of the pot, fill with a pound of drained rice and bring the water to the boil. Once boining, steam the rice for approximately twenty-five minutes without a lid (varieties differ a little) turning it over in one lump, halfway through. To do this take it off the heat and toss it. The rice should lift from the bottom and turn over in one lump.
When ready, the rice should look opaque and firm. If it is gooey you’ve cooked it too long, if it’s crunchy, not enough. Laotians cook it perfectly every time, I however, sometimes get a little gooey bit at the bottom of the conical basket. I’ve learnt to live with it. Take the rice out of the steamer and roll it around on the work surface to release a bit of steam, then put it in a basket and serve. To eat, roll it into a ball in your hand and use to to soak up food juices as you would bread.
N.B. Once cooked do not store it in the fridge, it goes hard.
Some information about Lao sticky rice.
Rice is the single most important crop in Laos and takes up 72% of the cultivated area, 85% of which is ‘sticky rice’. It tends to have a shorter growing season (90-110 days as opposed to 100-200) than non-sticky varieties, grows better in poorer soils with erratic rainfall; and once cooked, keeps longer and is easily transportable. Nearly all Lao sticky rice is consumed locally.
The differences between plain and sticky rice the proportion of two starches, amylose (linear glucose molecules) and amylopectin (branched glucose molecules), within the grain. Dry and fluffy rice varieties have a high amylose starch content of 10–25 percent, while sticky rice contains only 0.8 to 1.3 percent. It has been suggested that the variety came about by the selection of man but the evidence has been lost in time.
Farmers tend to grow a small area of prized native varieties for their own needs, spreading them through the growing season, and it is not uncommon for one family to have been growing their own special strain for centuries. They grow and distinguish between early (Kau do), medium (Kau kang/theung) and late growing rice (Kau pee). This enables farmers to stagger the workload and hedge against natural disasters that might affect the entire harvest
The rice can be cultivated wet or dry. In the lowlands, the wet method is preferred and the crop is grown in irrigated flooded paddy fields. In this method they plant a ‘nursery field’ and allow the rice to grow to about 12 inches high while the main fields are plowed and flooded. The young plants are then transplanted manually (twelve to fifty days worth of an individuals labour) and tended by hand until they are harvested after the rains and the fields are drained.
In the mountains the dry method is preferred for topographical reasons. The fields are prepared using the slash and burn technique prior to the rains in late April. The seeds are hand planted with a dribble stick in rows of holes and they begin to sprout in the rains at the beginning of May. The fields then have to be weeded every day until the harvest at the end of the rainy season in late September/ October, (though I saw rice harvested as late as December and January). It is extremely labour intensive, and a farmer will typically spend one hundred and sixty-five days of the year on his rice crop.
At harvest time, many families build a small hut in the fields and move into it to save time and guard against pests. They fence off an area to grow vegetables and keep animals such as chickens and pigs who live off the discarded rice bran and kitchen scraps.
The mature plants, with their droopy seed heads, are usually harvested with a sickle and gathered into sheaths or hung on a scaffold to dry. The rice has to be threshed to separate the grain from the stem. This can be done by simply thrashing the sheaths against the inside of a large basket, on a log or alternatively laying the sheaths down on a mat and beating them with a stick. I have even seen people riding over them on a bicycle. Alternatively some ethnic groups strip the grain by hand directly in the fields by holding the stem and pulling off the grain into the hand.
The grains are then winnowed to remove the chaff using a large flat tray. The grains are thrown in the air and back onto the tray so that the breeze carries away the chaff.
Finally, the rice has to be pounded to remove the bran. Village women typically spend half an hour each morning pounding the family’s rice which they put by to soak overnight. Yesterdays hulled, soaked rice would then be steamed in a bamboo basket for thirty to forty minutes for the family’s consumption. The cooked rice is placed in a ‘lunch basket’ to be eaten in the fields.
Sticky rice is also used in many other ways: fermented to make spirit or beer; ground into flour to make noodles, cakes and sweets or ground and roasted to add flavour to other foods.
A fragrant salad made with perfumed lychees and zingy citrus. Fresh lychees are best but if you have a can of lychees gathering dust in the cupboard, this is the way to use them.
8 Mandarins or fragrant citrus fruit
1lb or 2 tins Fresh Lychees peeled or canned in syrup, drained, reserve the syrup
30g pack Fresh mint leaves ( a generous handful) chopped
3. Add the fresh or drained lychees to the mandarin segments in the serving bowl.
6. De-stem the mint and roughly tearthe leaves. Add to the salad and serve.