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Nam Pla Prik น้ำปลาพริก – The Ubiquitous Thai Table Sauce


This simple table sauce is so commonplace — lowly even — in the Thai households that it’s almost ridiculous for me to blog about it. A blog post on this sauce is in many ways like a blog post on table salt and pepper. And I bet this post, just like a few similar ones in the past, will bring my way many have-you-run-out-of-stuff-to-blog-about-HUH? email and voice messages from my friends and family in Thailand.

Oh, well.

My only justification is that although nam pla prik(RTGS: nam pla phrik), or sometimes called prik nam pla, is considered ordinary, its presence cannot be ignored. This meal accompaniment is one of the most ubiquitous items in the Thai cuisine. Everywhere you look, you see it. On make-shift tables set up by street food vendors. On the tables of sit-down type of restaurants. On your family dining table. On the seasoning table in every corner of every food court. In a tiny bowl that comes with the plate of fried rice you order. In a little rubber band-fastened plastic bag nestled inside your fried rice to-go box.

You see it everywhere.

I was tempted to call it a dipping sauce, but that somehow feels weird to me as it’s not something we dip stuff into in the manner of buffalo wings and bleu cheese dip. If anything, nam pla prik acts more like a flavor enhancer (mainly for rice or rice-based dishes). You take a spoonful of it and drizzle over or mix into whatever it is that’s on your plate. If your fried rice is a little bland, or could use some heat, a dab of fish sauce and a few pieces of fresh chilies would be of tremendous help. Sometimes, having a little bit of the vibrant kick of fresh chilies along with rice and curry makes for a very pleasant meal.

Most Thai food vendors aren’t so sensitive when it comes to the customers adding seasonings to their food; most of them don’t take it personally. If anything, they seem to encourage self-customization. Anyone who has eaten street noodles in Thailand is familiar with the seasoning set that’s always there on the table for people to use, not to visually admire from afar or meditate on as you eat your noodles.

When my mother was alive, if we had invited any of you guys to our house for a meal, I can assure you that the infamous Joy Luck Club scene, where the (Chinese) mother is greatly insulted by her daughter’s (white) boyfriend naïvely adding soy sauce to her signature dish, would never happen at our house. The members of my entire clan, thankfully, are beyond laid-back. My mother would’ve definitely put a bowl of nam pla prik in the middle of the table for everyone just in case. And if you actually used it, she would never have taken offense.

Notice that when you eat at a Thai restaurant, sometimes Thai diners will ask their server for a bowl of nam pla prik — a reasonable request that is in most cases gladly fulfilled with no extra charge. In some restaurants, once they know you’re Thai, they bring out a bowl of nam pla prik along with your order without you even asking. When I see non-Thais request a bowl of nam pla prik at a Thai restaurant, I automatically assume they either live with a Thai or have lived in Thailand for extended periods of time.

I’m not much of a nam pla prik addict in the sense that I don’t automatically add it to everything that’s put in front of me. I only use it when it really makes a difference. In fact, I can only think of one thing that I refuse to eat without a bowl of nam pla prik nearby: rice and soft- or hard-boiled eggs. Take nam pla prik away from the picture and the whole thing becomes pointless to me. Nothing else can take the place of nam pla prik in that situation, not even my beloved Maggi or Sriracha. But in most situations, I can easily get by without it.

Each person approaches the stuff differently, though. Many consider nam pla prik to be the side item without which a meal is not complete. Someone I know can get really cranky if she makes herself a bowl of rice topped with crispy fried eggs and sits down to enjoy it only to find the last person who finished the last batch of nam pla prik didn’t replenish the stock. This could cause friction in the household.

Each person (or family) has his own idea of what nam pla prik consists of. I’m a minimalist, so as long as there are thin slices of fresh bird’s eye chillies floating happily in a pool of aromatic fish sauce, I’m happy. In fact, I would say that those two components are the bare essentials of nam pla prik., i.e. as long as you have fish sauce and fresh chillies, you have nam-pla prik. After all, the name nam-pla prik is made by sticking two nouns together: nam pla (fish sauce) and prik (chilli). But it wouldn’t be uncommon to see sliced garlic or shallots floating in there as well.

Try asking for nam pla prik next time you visit a Thai restaurant and look for that subtle ah!-you-eat-like-we-do expression on your server’s face. And if they actually give you a bowl of it gratis, please tip them well and support their business for that is a sign of hospitality — of them welcoming you into their “home.”

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Soy Sauces Used in Modern Thai Cooking and How to Make Your Own All-Purpose Stir-Fry Sauce

thai stir fry recipeOur subject today is the major soy sauces (ซีอิ๊ว) used in Thai cooking. This is by no means an exhaustive list. Only what I consider to be the major players are included.

Let’s start with the ubiquitous table sauce, Maggi, a sauce generally described as being made from vegetable protein to resemble soy sauce without actually containing soy. [Maggi is by no means the only brand used in Thailand, but it has become a generic name for all brands of table soy sauces, much like Kleenex. It’s not uncommon for some people to point to a bottle of obviously non-Maggi brand of table sauce and say, “Could you pass me some Maggi?”]

However, due to the way in which it is used among the Thais, I think it’s appropriate to put this very concentrated sauce in the soy sauce category.


This is the table sauce of choice for most Southeast Asian kids and adults alike. In general, Maggi is not used as a cooking sauce; its job is to accent or embellish a finished dish rather than act as a cooking ingredient. In other words, Maggi functions in a similar manner to Tabasco sauce, A-1 sauce, or—in some way—table salt and pepper. A few drops of Maggi over a bowl of pork congee, or rice and hard-boiled eggs or Thai-style omelet (ไข่เจียว) made my childhood a truly happy one.

Another major soy sauce is sweet dark soy sauce (ซีอิ๊วหวาน). This is very similar to the sweet soy sauce in the Indonesian kecap family — the essential ingredient in the much-loved Pad See Ew (phat si-io, ผัดซีอิ๊ว), fried flat rice noodles with sweet dark soy sauce. It is also heavily used in Chinese-influenced red-cooked or braised dishes that are found in the Thai repertoire. Nothing can replace or mimic its salty-yet-sweet, caramel-y-yet-smoky flavor. It’s one of my favorite soy sauces in the whole world.

Notably, sweet dark soy sauce is also often served as a table sauce alongside the spicy ginger-chilli-garlic-soy sauce which accompanies Khao Man Gai (khao man kai, ข้าวมันไก่) for those who prefer a less spicy sauce. Both sauces are almost always offered at a Khao Man Gai joint for this reason.

thai sauce recipe
When I was a little kid, Dad and I would go on dates once or twice a month. One of our favorite date spots was a neighborhood Khao Man Gai eatery that served what I remember to be the most delicious version of this chicken and rice dish I’ve ever had. (Or it simply could be that anything eaten in Dad’s loving presence tasted good.) Knowing I was too young to handle the spicy Khao Man Gai sauce, Dad would drizzle some sweet dark soy sauce over my rice. And oh, how I adored it.

The taste of sweet dark soy sauce is seared into my memory and will always be mentally associated with how wonderful life was when Dad was alive and how blessed I am to have a truly magnificent man as my father.

[You fathers out there, please go on dates with your daughters. I’m willing to bet that years from now they will write blogs or books about how everything eaten in your presence tastes wonderful. Yes, even soy sauce.]

Another major player on the soy sauce scene is light or thin soy sauce (ซีอิ๊วขาว). “Light” in this context doesn’t not refer to its lower sodium content (as in 50% less sodium “light” Kikkoman that comes with a green cap); it refers to its lighter, thinner consistency and gentler, less in-your-face taste.

Its Thai moniker, ซีอิ๊วขาว, can be misleading as it literally means, ‘white soy sauce.’ Well, there’s nothing white about it. I guess it’s a convenient way of differentiating this thinner, lighter soy sauce from its more concentrated, thicker, darker counterparts.

This type of soy sauce is less salty than the dark soy sauce and—unless my taste buds play tricks on me—sweeter. The consistency and taste of “white” soy sauce are very close to those of fish sauce, although the two are never interchangeable, in my opinion. Some have asked me whether it’s a good idea to use “white soy sauce” instead of fish sauce to make vegan or vegetarian Thai curries, and my answer is, no, use salt. But this is just a personal opinion and by no means a dogma. I happen to think traditional Thai curries that are seasoned with soy sauce (of any kind) are disgusting.

thai sauce recipe
We’re moving on to the penultimate item: dark soy sauce (ซีอิ๊วดำ—literally “black soy sauce”). Golden Mountain and Healthy Boy are what I use in my cooking and recipe testing. (They’re also two most prominent brands among the imported Thai soy sauces in the US, from what I’ve seen.) At a risk of stating the obvious, dark soy sauce is darker than light soy sauce. (Isn’t this enlightening?)

One last note on soy sauces used in modern Thai cooking: I don’t ever use Japanese-style or Korean-style soy sauces or soy sauces brewed according to the Japanese tradition (Kikkoman) in Thai cooking unless in extreme cases. The flavors of such sauces lend themselves to the East Asian cuisines for which they are designed, and I find them to be out of place in Thai cooking. The same holds true in reverse. Serve Golden Mountain or Healthy Boy soy sauces with sushi to those who know better and watch sake flasks fly in your general direction.

Lastly, oyster sauce (น้ำมันหอย or ซ้อสหอยนางรม – literally “oyster oil” and “oyster sauce” respectively). Again, this is not exactly soy sauce, but I have placed it in this category due to the manner in which it’s used in Thai cooking. I think of it as umami-filled soy sauce with built-in starch. For vegetarians, look for Chinese brands of “oyster” sauce that is made from mushrooms.

Some facts about oyster sauce:

  • While the other types of sauce listed here function either as a table sauce (Maggi) or both a table sauce and a cooking sauce (light, dark, and sweet dark soy sauces), oyster sauce is almost exclusively a cooking sauce. At least, I’ve never seen it used as a table sauce in my lifetime.
  • Oyster sauce is a complex sauce containing what I suspect to be high amounts of Monosodium glutamate (MSG). That’s why a little bit of it goes a long way in providing flavor as a stir-fry sauce or marinade. If you’re ultra-sensitive to MSG, ask your favorite Asian, especially Chinese, restaurants that put up the “No MSG” sign whether they use oyster sauce in their cooking. If so, and I think that’s mostly the case, their foods contain MSG by way of the oyster sauce even though they do not lie about using the crystalline MSG.
  • A recent Oyster Food and Culture article on the making of soy sauce around the world reminded me of someone I’d thought about introducing to you since last summer. I had drafted a post on him and kept it in my draft folder for a long time. You see a part of me wanted people to know of him; another part of me wanted to keep him a secret.The urge to share won out. Everybody, meet Bruno.thai sauce recipe
    My dark tan (hence the name) love, Bruno, is the strong, quiet type, but gets along with others really well. He is low-maintenance and can take care of himself just fine. Though Bruno is the type that spends most of his time in a cold, dark corner minding his own business, the moment I reach for him, he can leap to work at a drop of a hat. All I need to do to get him ready is shake him up violently. Bruno’s performance is solid, stellar, consistent, and always satisfying.You know how bread geeks avid bread bakers name their sourdough starter? Bruno is the name which I have given to my all-purpose, go-to brown stir-fry sauce. I am never without Bruno.
    Containing soy sauce, oyster sauce, sesame oil, and Chinese wine, it doesn’t take an expert to figure out that Bruno is not a traditional Thai stir-fry sauce. What would an ‘authentic’ Thai stir-fry sauce be? There’s no such thing. Thai-style stir-fries are very simple. Most often, they start with the browning of chopped garlic in lard or vegetable oil, followed by the sauteing of your meat of choice (sliced thinly and small enough to fit on a spoon), and vegetable(s). Decades ago, the seasoning ingredient would be a few splashes of fish sauce and a pinch of ground white pepper. These days, light soy sauce and oyster sauce are almost always added along with the fish sauce.

    Bruno takes you in a different direction, setting you on the path of the stir-fries you’d most likely find at most Thai restaurants in the US which are heavily influenced by the stir-fries you’d most likely find at Chinese restaurants in the US. Having a premade sauce like Bruno is often the way they cook at most Thai restaurants stateside. You know what it’s like. You and five co-workers visit a Thai restaurant during the busy lunch hour. You all flip through the menu and order six different lunch specials. Less than 10 minutes later, your server places six plates of steamed Jasmine rice topped with six different stir-fry and dry-curry varieties—all complex-looking stuff that you don’t even dare attempt to replicate at home. You look around and notice that other diners also receive their orders around the same time. You start thinking that they either have a legion of cooks in the kitchen or the one they have has 5 extra sets of hands.

    In a perfect world, upon receiving your lunch order, someone in the kitchen would measure out 10 different fresh herbs and spices, grind them up into a paste with a pestle and mortar, and create one perfect single serving of Thai stir-fry for you. In the real world, it’s all about pre-fab cooking. This is fact. And I don’t see anything wrong with that. Without going all Sandra Lee on you, most, if not all, Thai restaurants have (and guard with their lives) their own Bruno formulae for various types of Chinese-influenced stir-fried dishes.

    My Bruno consists of 1 part Thai light soy sauce, 2 parts oyster sauce, 1 part Thai dark (not sweet) soy sauce, 1 part Chinese wine or sherry, 1 part cornstarch, 1/2 part sesame oil, and 1/4 part ground white pepper. I usually make about a quart of Bruno at a time and keep him in a huge glass jar in the refrigerator. You need to put Bruno in a jar with enough head space, because the cornstarch sinks to the bottom of the jar and you need to give Bruno a good shake in order to get him ready to work.

    How to use Bruno? I use 1/2 cup of Bruno, plus 3/4 cup of water, for every 2 pounds combined weight of stir-fry ingredients. This is my favorite ratio; your mileage may vary.

    thai stir fry recipe
    What’s good about Bruno is that apart from the added sesame oil I don’t put additional oil into my stir-fries at all; there’s just no need for it. When I stir-fry with Bruno, I go against the usual stir-fry protocol. I heat up the pan over medium heat, add to the pan the ingredients in the order of lengths of time required starting from the longest first, add Bruno to the mix followed by the water, and close the lid. When all the ingredients have been cooked through and the sauce has thickened, remove the pan from heat. That’s all there is to it.

    Have fun with Bruno. Use him with different vegetables, meats, add-ins (fresh chillies, sliced ginger, herbs, etc.). I bet you’ll love him as much as I have loved him and only him these past several years.

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Durian Flan คัสตาร์ดทุเรียน

durian recipe
Ah, durian. Can you think of any fruit that’s more controversial and divisive? You either despise it or adore it.

Those who hate it, please avert your eyes (Now that you’re here, may I interest you with some Thai or gluten-free recipes in the archives?). Those who can’t have enough of it, please read on.


Durian (ทุเรียน), as is the case with most fruits, is best eaten fresh. The opportunity to enjoy perfectly-ripe Mon Thong (หมอนทอง) or Kan Yao (ก้านยาว) durians in their natural state alone justifies flying half way around the globe, if you’re a durian fiend like me. Short of that, the only durian avatar that does any justice at all to fresh durians would be durian in sweet coconut cream over sweet coconut sticky rice (ข้าวเหนียวน้ำกระทิทุเรียน). On a good day, I’m also willing to make an exception for sweet durian paste (ทุเรียนกวน) — the concoction most commonly used as one of the most popular mooncake fillings. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.

But durian cakes or cookies? Nah. Growing up or these days whenever I visit Bangkok, it has never occurred to me to seek out or make any treats wherein durian serves merely as a perfuming agent. I don’t have anything against durian chiffon cake or durian-flavored spritz-type cookies — the most common of all inferior durian avatars; I have eaten tons of them and would still continue to do so, if force fed. I just don’t think those are the best applications for such an expensive fruit whose greatest virtue lies in the creamy, custardy texture and sublimely sweet taste. I’ve seen tons of durian cake or cookie recipes where you’re supposed to whip up a huge batch of batter with just a tiny bit of durian pulp added. The exiguity of durian used in those recipes only serves to magnify their pointlessness.

You don’t really taste durian that way. You detect mild durian scent and that’s about it. (At a risk of undermining the width and depth of my love for durian, the scent is not the best part about durian; the texture and flavor are.) I’m sure there are people who don’t agree with this, but such is the fate of all opinions in this world.

Besides, I don’t really see the point of consuming any durian derivatives if you live in a place where plump, golden, sweet, and creamy flesh of the incomparably delicious fruit can be found any time, anywhere.


Alas, things are different here in Chicago and I am forced to drastically lower my standard. In my neck of the woods, “fresh” durians are available in two forms: frozen whole durians (sometimes thawed and sold at room temperature to lead people into thinking that they’ve never been frozen) and frozen prepared durian pulp (pitted durians wrapped in cellophane and frozen).

Both are barely edible.

In this case, transforming durian into durian-flavored treats is more than justified in my biased mind. Still, some respect needs to be paid to the king of fruit. Though undressed, abused, gutted, and previously-frozen, the thawed-out monarch still reigns and I am obligated to treat him accordingly. If he can’t be restored to his former glory, at least I need to make his avatars as close as possible to the taste and texture of the original.

And that means sweet, creamy, and custardy.

In future posts I will be writing about three ways which I like to use frozen durian pulp: durian in sweet coconut cream over sweet coconut sticky rice (ข้าวเหนียวน้ำกระทิทุเรียน), durian coconut gelato, and durian coconut flan. While the first is strictly Thai, the second and the last are obviously not traditional Thai desserts. I’m doing my best to keep them as Thai, or at least Southeast Asian, as possible. The use of coconut milk certainly helps make that goal possible.

In case you have been distracted by my rambling, we’re making durian flan today. I’m offering two ways in which you can make this.

durian recipe
1. Do you have a favorite sweet potato or pumpkin flan recipe which you’ve successfully used over the years? If so, all you need to do is:

  • Replace the sweet potato or pumpkin with equal amount of durian pulp.
  • Reduce the amount of sugar in the flan proper(not the caramel) by 30% as durian pulp is much sweeter than sweet potato or pumpkin.
  • Replace all or half of the milk (or half and half or cream) with coconut milk.
  • The only caveat for this method is that if your favorite recipe calls for sweetened condensed milk, it’s too complicated to swap out ingredients. In that case, your best bet is to go with the other way to make durian flan.

    2. Follow my recipe:
    Print It

  • In a blender, liquefy 16 ounces of durian pulp (thawed), 3 egg yolks, 2 whole eggs, 1 1/2 cups (12 fl. oz.) of full-fat coconut milk (I use Chaokoh, of course), 1/3 cup of granulated sugar, and 2 tablespoons of cornstarch; set aside.
  • Preheat the oven to 350° F. Get some boiling water ready, along with one 8-inch pan and a larger pan into which the smaller pan can fit.
  • In a saucepan, melt together over medium-low heat 1/2 cup of granulated sugar and 4 tablespoons water. Do not stir, but swirl the pan gently to allow the sugar to melt and caramelize evenly. Watch the caramel very closely. When it takes on the dark amber color, immediately remove the pan from heat and pour the caramel into the 8-in pan, trying your best to cover the bottom of the pan entirely. Should you fail, fret not; the problem will somewhat solve itself after the custard is baked.
  • Pour the prepared durian mixture over the caramel. Place the filled pan inside the larger pan, place the whole thing in the oven, and pour boiling water into the larger pan just enough to come half way up the side of the smaller pan. Bake for 45 minutes or until the center is barely jiggly. Remove the custard from the water bath, let cool, refrigerate for 3 hours, and unmold by running a knife around the edges and turn the pan over gently onto a serving plate.

 

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