Lemongrass, Coconut Milk and Everything Nice...

Thailand, I think, may translate directly to "Land of everything delicious!" As much as I adore Turkish food, I'm afraid Thailand takes the number one spot for best tasting. Literally every single dish I had was awesome! As many know, I hate shrimp and mushrooms, but even those were decadent!

Soaking in creamy coconut milk, the mango desserts are (eek cliches) to die for! Mango Tango still haunts me in my dreams; its clearly the most delicious dessert in Bangkok. Featuring mango pudding, mango ice cream, mango tapioca, mango lassi, and yes, just mangoes, Mango Tango has stolen my heart and then cheated on me repeatedly with the same three lady boys leaving me heartbroken and desolate.

Even the streets wreak of lemongrass and ginger, and fresh fruit stands litter every alley. Regardless of what you hear or read, eating the street food is essential! No matter how shady the cook looks, or how dirty his utensils appear to be, ingest as much of this heaven-on-a-stick as possible. Even if you do contract an intestinal worm, know that the food is worth it.

In addition to my newfound addiction, Mango Tango, there's another amazing street feature found (I believe!) only in Bangkok, and that is The Waffle. Ridiculously hot and gooey, they're made fresh with every order and found everywhere there's people ie, shopping plaza, bus stations and train stations. Just when you feel you're craving something sexy and sweet, one pops up before you! These psychic vendors charge very little (5 baht!) and generally only have four flavors, but each a different flavor than the last; original, rum raisin, and tarot were my favorites!

 I must say Thai food any where else in the world may be ruined for me. I will never leave an American Thai restaurant satisfied. My tongue will turn its smug little nose up at all impostors and forever be angry with me until I venture back to the Southeast.

Damn you, Thailand! Why are you so delicious?

Dog Soup (boshin tang) 보 신 탕

Walking up and down one incline to the next, we're on a mission. Rumored that this particular area features restaurants specializing in dog meat, from barbecue to soup. We finally find a restaurant that looks promising. "Big Dog" restaurant with paw prints on the window and door, this has to be it. We go in, sit down and look at the only Korean menu. While we wait for our server, we comment on the horrific stench inside. Finally the waiter comes over, greets us and asks what we'd be having. In Korea, we ask her if they have Kae go gi? Looking disgusted, she tells us "No." We leave, laughing at how unmistakably coincidental it was for that restaurant to not be a dog restaurant.

So the hunt continues, but by this point, we're starving! Finally, we come upon this putrid smell leaking from a small, fluorescently lit eatery. We cautiously walk inside and are greeted with what seems like disgusted, and judging glares. One of the guys in our small group asks the owner if they serve dog. She says yes and seats us at a stove top table.

The smell is almost unbearable. Not even one I can accurately describe. Somewhere between something unbelievably sour and spoiled meat. I'm getting nauseated now just trying to remember it. Never quite adjusting to the stench, I decide to still go through with it.

Even as a dog lover, I've always wanted to try this dish unique to Korea ever since I learned about it. So here it is. In the dog days of summer the six of us all foreign to South Korea are going to finally indulge in boshin tang.

The cook comes to our table, both hands full of a different cut of dog meat inquiring to which we'd prefer. Virginia, the Australian girl, freaks out and backs out, deciding she just can't go through with it!

Then the cook brings out a large table top pot and sets it to a boil in front of us. Some sort of broth with onions, scallions, garlic and some other vegetables are already inside. Then as that cooks, the lady cuts apart Lassie next to us and adds it to the boiling mixture. Much like a witch over a boiling cauldron, she says several foreign words as she adds and adds ingredients to her potion. Finally, she adds some strange, milky liquid and she's done! This last step is what really grossed us out; even more so than the wreaking stench and the dog meat!

Now, its time to try this cruel concoction. We serve ourselves and mentally prepare as we blow cool the first bite. Surprisingly delicious, it tastes much like roast beef. The meat was striated and came apart like some types of cooked pork. The broth was my favorite part. It was satiated and hearty; a great soup, I imagine, in the winter time.

Finally, we decided we couldn't have anymore and agreed it probably wasn't a good idea to ask for a doggy bag. We paid and left. Never to return again. Our strange experience behind us. Happy I tried, certainly won't make it habit, and praying that all dogs do go to heaven.

Huo Guo 火锅; Chengdu, Sichuan, China

       Huo Guo, or Hot Pot, is a traditional Sichuan meal. Basically, you take everything edible you can think of and things you didn't think were edible, and drop it strategically into a giant pot of spicy boiling oil. My first experience, we let the only Chinese girl in our party do the ordering...bad idea. We told her to order what ever was "typical." She went crazy, ordering everything from a mountain of beef to cows' throat, from mushrooms (ick!) to ducks' blood and pigs' brains. And being the culinary pioneer that I am, I tried it all!

       First, we put in these little hotdogs that resembled lil' smokies you find at a light hors d'oeuvre party...except, after they cooked, they split open and resembled strange pork butterflies or flowers. My horrible Chinese interpretation leads me to call them zhu hua...Pig flower. The little hotdog butterflies weren't bad. Let me explain the process: First, you check off what you want and the quagoat the hands of your personal hot pot. You also receive a little bowl with more oil, you have the option of adding salt, garlic, MSG, and other unidentifiable spices. Upon deliverance of all your items, you put them in strategically. This "strategy" of timing is unknown to me, I suggest you bring a Chinese person with you, But take part in the ordering!

       Okay, so after the little hot dogs, everything else just kind of went in. And when our friend, Xianyou told us it was ready, we reached in with our chop stix and plucked out a piece of our choice. Then dipped it in our own oily mixture and ate it. All of it pretty much tasted the same, texture was the only variable. The brain wasn't bad, just strange. The throat was tough. And the ducks' blood I actually liked! It was cool, it melted in your mouth like sugar. When the blood showed up to our table it looked exactly like a big bowl of freshly made cherry jello, but after boiling it lost almost all of its tautness and was just blobby and less cohesive. The mountain of meat was good and familiar. And the vegetables were delicious; lotus root, cauliflower, and potatoes. Last, you eat the noodles, but I was all too full to put another thing in my mouth.

     The experience was terrific and all in all, necessary when traveling to Sichuan province. In all its strangeness, I'm glad I tried Huo Guo. However, for the rest of the evening, I writhed in pain in the fetal position for the duration of the night, forcing me to pass on future invitations to this cultural feast. I strongly urge one to try, only once, this cultural meal of Chengdu. I met other foreigners who loved Hot Pot; it just wasn't for me.