Traversing Thailand

They say the best things in life are sweet. Or at least they should. There’s a whole meal dedicated to the masses who suffer from sweet-tooth syndrome and glutton-itis. This is the phenomenon we call “dessert”.

Standing under the shelter of a small tin roof, the pancake man makes his humble living from dessert. He is of short stature but his voice punches through the salty air of a sweltering Phuket night.

“PANCAKES!” he calls, “BANANA PANCAKES!”
I watch his first customer scuttle over to his cart, eyes widening as the smell of freshly cooking crepes fills their nostrils. They pick their poison and the pancake man gets to work.

He pulls a ball of dough out of nowhere and begins throwing it and kneading it against his stainless steel bench with more gusto than I’d expect from an accomplished pizza chef. He spins, stretches and spools the dough around his hands before placing butter on his crepe pan with one hand and throwing the dough on with the other.

Making small talk with his diner, he pulls a banana off the bunch and begins chopping it at lightning speed. He manages to land each tiny slice of banana directly in the centre of the crepe while still maintaining complete eye contract with his customer.

By this time, quite a crowd has formed around the stand. Jaws are dropping at this man’s skill and speed. As the crepe sizzles, he grabs his spatula and flips it around the pan effortlessly. Grinning at the crowd, he takes it off the heat and slices it up faster than a sous chef before handing it to his customer with pride. They exchange pleasantries as he shouts, “YOU WERE NEXT MA’DAM?”

I step up to the stand and look at all of the fresh ingredients placed before me, smacking my lips. As the crepe cooks, I ask why it’s called a pancake in Patong.

“Pancake, crepe, roti. Same same but different in Thailand, eh?” he responds.

I nod, laughing. He begins to tell me about where he lives up on the hill, his girlfriend, his Thai-Indian descent and how much he likes Australians and their accents. What he lacks in English, he makes up for in charisma.

He hands me his glorious creation smothered in chocolate sauce and my knees go weak. I tip him and shuffle back to my hotel, stuffing my face the whole way.

This becomes a routine every night I’m in Phuket, my family and I become his regulars. We converse and learn about each other’s cultures, ending each night with a warm goodbye and another kilo to my butt.

Dessert has a new face; the pancake man.