Thoughts in Transit

Tired, hungry and all out of bahts from exploring the indomitable Chao Phraya and its mystifying temples the whole day, I headed back with no choice but to charge dinner via hotel room service with all the money changers already closed for the night.

The Gang Kiew Wan Gai (Sweet Green Curry with Chicken) immediately caught my eye. And it was a strategic decision: a “sweet” kind of curry would avoid the unbearably spicy Thai dishes like the Gang Ped (Red Curry) that I had struggled to eat earlier.

When I called room service the lady on the other line checked whether or not I wanted my curry “extra spicy.” With a nervous laugh I told her that I didn’t, and that in fact I didn’t want it spicy at all. “Maybe a little spicy?” she teasingly suggested. And not wanting to seem rude, I gave in, saying, “Okay. But only a little spicy.”

When the curry finally arrived in my room, my fears were confirmed. The sweet green curry was now undeniably phet mak: extra spicy. I felt my scalp starting to heat up and itch just staring at what looked and smelled like a steaming bowl of volcanic wasabi soup, tasting it vicariously through the prickly fumes that now sent water down my nose.

Every burning spoonful I had to extinguish with gulp after thankful gulp of ice water. But as the shock of the spices started to wear off, I began to probe into its unique flavor. And so cautiously I made my way to the end of the bowl until its secret finally became clear. In true fortune-cookie eloquence, this curry was a living parable for how there is sweetness waiting for those who see past the seemingly overpowering spiciness. And I put the bowl down, taking it all in.

Maybe this was why the lady just had to make my curry spicy: to tell me that spice is unavoidable and that to remove it would be dishonest to authentic Thai cuisine and reality in general. The only curry worth eating in this world is that which ignites your senses into new life. And hers definitely did.