Being married to a Thai man for the past few years has meant learning quite a bit about Thai food. This is not a great achievement because it is usually the main topic of our conversations.
My wife once told me that a Thai woman would be happier if she could eat seven times a day and I think she’s pretty close to that mark. As long as you are not eating, you can be counted on to be thinking about what or where to eat next.
Obviously, here is some kind of health secret. If he’s two pounds too much, I have no idea where he’s hiding it. If I ate like her, it would take a lift to get me out of bed in the morning. The answer must be that what you are eating must be healthy and delicious. His favorite food, snack, between stimulating meals, comfort food and health potion is … somtam.
I confess that I had been thinking of somtam as a lower-class street food vendor until I read a review of a local restaurant in Chiang Mai (Huen Phen) that quoted world-class chef and author, Anthony Bourdain, as saying that “his salad papaya is actually the best salad I have ever eaten. ” Interesting.
Since then I have eaten it there, ordered it in other restaurants and stood next to the street vendors in the alleys while they prepared me some. It is always very good and I remember the great phrase David Mamet wrote in Wag the Dog: “There are two things I know to be true. There is no difference between good flan and bad flan, and there is no war in Albania.” . “My wife tells me that all somtams are good, but there are some that she likes more than others.
Regardless of where you get your somtam from in Thailand, what I like is that it is always prepared fresh and usually in the front section of the restaurant (or behind the little glass booth placed on the street cart).
The essentials are basic: a sharp knife, a spoon and a mortar. Preparation is a blur of culinary poetry.
Pour a handful of chiles into the mortar and mortar a pound or two to release the heat. In quick succession, add some coarsely chopped tomato, a pinch of sugar, a nice splash of fish sauce (available now in most oriental markets), a small tablespoon of lemon juice, a clove or two of garlic and (usually) a little MSG.
The sauce is finished with the addition of a few small whole crabs. (poop) and some fermented and salted fish (Balak.)
Beat and stir to bruise and mix in the sauce, then quickly julienne a firm green papaya and add the spaghetti-sized pieces to the infusion.
Hit and stir one last time so the green fruit wilts in the sauce. Place the salad on a plate or bowl and it will invariably look naturally elegant.
Now for the vocabulary to make sure it’s done to your liking. Order Somtam Lao if you want the sour and spicy taste of the balak (fermented fish). Somtam Thai omits the balak and add peanuts, which I prefer.
“Mai Sai Poo” means to hold the crab. “Mai Pom Chulot” it is “not MSG”. Somtam beginner should say: “mai phet” which means “not spicy”. I like to order “phet mai mak” or “not very spicy”. Only a serious masochist should say “phet gadai” and then you shouldn’t complain about the burning pain that the true somtam addict craves.
Hot or not, somtam mixes smooth with crunchy and has an intense yet surprisingly balanced flavor that’s sweet, salty, tart, and bitter in every bite.