Archive | She Thais RSS feed for this section

What Kind of Rice Is Thai Sticky Rice?

By on March 19, 2009 in She Deglutenizes, She Rants and Muses, She Stocks a Thai Pantry, She Thais, She Veges

thai sticky rice
Now that I have cleared up a few things on how to choose mangoes, how to peel and slice mangoes, and quality canned coconut milk, I’m moving on to the last item before getting to the recipe for Thai Sweet Coconut Sticky Rice and Mango. While most Southeast Asians take the terms for granted, those who did not grow up eating this long grain glutinous rice often find themselves confused about just what kind of rice it is. What does it mean — sticky? An attempt to call it “glutinous rice” doesn’t help all that much. You don’t solve a problem by giving it another name.

The thing is, any short grain rice is considered sticky in comparison to its long grain counterparts. This is due to the difference in starch contents which vary from one type of rice to another. Higher starch content = stickiness. (Even within the same type of rice you see a difference in starch content. In general, a new crop is more starchy than an old crop.) Sushi rice is often called sticky rice. The types of rice used in Korean cuisine are also referred to as sticky rice. If you’re confused, your confusion is completely justified.

Though several types of short grain rice are lumped together into the “sticky” category, only one kind of rice is used to make steamed sticky rice common in the Thai and Laotian cultures. Wiki has a pretty good article that spells it all out for you; go straight to the section on Thai-Laotian tradition, if you’re short on time.

In terms of helping you to pick out the right type of rice, I could tell you that this type of rice is opaque and not translucent like regular long grain rice. But that’s not to help much, because all short grain rice, even the types that cannot and should not be used in place of Thai sticky rice, is opaque. Brand names also vary and may not always be written in Engligh.

The best thing is to commit to memory the circled portion in the picture below. If you can read Thai, good for you. If you can’t, think of it as a single-unit logogram — an image of the lexical kind.

(Added August 9th, 2013: 3 Horses is the brand I recommend and one of the easiest to find. It looks like this. Keep the picture on your phone as a reference.)


Here’s your sticky rice in four languages, namely English, Chinese, Laotian, Vietnamese, Thai (in that order), and, as a bonus, one unintelligible language found just above the net weight.


[Note: Do not let the “scented” part confuse you. The rice doesn’t have any artificial “scent” added. This is different from the “scented” versus “unscented” designation you find on deodorant or toilet paper packages. In this case, they’re just telling you that the rice is the superior kind of sticky rice that is naturally fragrant.]

There are a few sub-categories within the same type of Thai sticky rice. All of them work just fine. As long as the package bears the name ข้าวเหนียว and the grains look opaque white, you’re on the right track.

Related Posts:
The Easiest Way to Make Perfectly-Steamed Sticky Rice
Thai Mango and Sweet Coconut Sticky Rice

Comments are closed

How to Choose the Right Mango for Thai Mango and Coconut Sticky Rice

By on March 16, 2009 in She Deglutenizes, She Steams, She Stocks a Thai Pantry, She Thais, She Veges

mango for Thai sweet sticky rice recipe
Southeast and South Asian people are usually gentle and polite — sometimes to the point of being shy and withdrawn — in social situations. But if you put them all together in one place and one happens to make a bad move of claiming the types of mango (banana, coconut, etc.) found in his/her country are superior to those found in the rest of the region, things could get awkward at best and ugly at worst. So even if I do think Thai mangoes are the best, I rarely say that out loud.

Okay, I’m going to remain ducking under the table until you Malaysian, Indonesian, Indian, Filipino readers put away your broomsticks.

This time of year, those in Thailand are starting to see more and more mangoes in the market and I’m here in Chicago totally depressed. The beginning of the mango season in Thailand can only be described as magnificent in the most literal meaning of its Latin etymology. At least, there was excitement to that degree in our family. We love mangoes and durians, as do most other Thai families. The fact that the mango season is closely followed by the durian season only increases the joy ten-folds. It’s like nature’s way of apologizing for turning on the heat and humidity full blast during the months of April and May.

[As a side comment, though I can see why durian is referred to as the king of fruits, whoever took the liberty of crowning mangosteen the queen of fruits has some explaining to do. I just don’t understand why the much, much more delicious mango doesn’t make it into the royal fruity palace.]

In the backyard of the house in which I grew up there were at least five different kinds of mango trees. They started budding and blooming in the colder months of December through mid-February. Then the withered flowers gave way to baby mangoes the size of the tip of your pinkie. At a risk of sounding like a kid who didn’t have a life, one of my favorite things to do was checking on the growth of the mangoes every morning before I left for school. By the time April rolled around, these wee mangoes would have grown into full-sized mangoes, ready for harvest.

My grandmother would snap full-grown, yet green, mangoes right off the branches, one by one, with a bamboo basket attached to the tip of a long pole. For the ones meant to be consumed when green, we would eat them right away. For those meant to be eaten when fully ripe, we would let them ripen, undisturbed, in the basement.

The Thai people are very picky when it comes to mango. (I have previously stepped on some international toes by expressing my shamelessly-bigoted opinion in my post on mango-lime jam). Thailand might be a country that seems to get a new prime minister and cabinet every Tuesday afternoon as we take our time deciding just what kind of democracy we dig the most, but certain things remain static.

Mango rules are one example of things that never change. Though these rules are not written, they’re instinctively followed. Certain types of mango are made to be eaten when they’re green; certain types are made to be eaten when they’re ripe. Certain types of green mango are to be served in paper-thin slices; certain types are to be cut into long spears. Certain types of mango are used exclusively to make mango-based chutneys, relishes, or dipping sauces. We’re a bunch of neurotic mango sticklers, I guess.

The mango rules kick in big time when it comes to choosing the right types of mango to pair with sweet coconut sticky rice. As far as I know, only two types of mangoes are principally used for this very purpose: Ok-Rong and Nam-Dokmai.

Though pairing other types of mango with the coconut sticky rice probably would not result in one being murdered and buried in an unmarked grave, it would most definitely result in the perpetrator being stared down by a mob of miffed Thais. Respectable Thai restaurants in the US always pull this dessert off the menu when good mangoes are out of season. That tells you something.


The closest thing to the aforementioned Ok-Rong and Nam-Dokmai is Manila or Ataulfo mangoes (shown here) which are widely available in the US. They’re light green when green (oh, so helpful …) and dark yellow with a tint of orange when ripe. In stark contrast to the disgusting greenish-reddish mangoes that are available all year round in the US, Ataulfo mangoes have all the characteristics of good eating mangoes: meaty, non-fibrous, fragrant, and very sweet. If you see this type of mango at your local grocery store, by all means, buy them by the case.

The mangoes shown here present an example of what ripe mangoes look like. However, personally, I would let them sit on the kitchen counter for 2-3 more days until the taut skin turns a bit wrinkly. That is when I know they are perfectly ripe and sweet with no trace of tartness left. Only then will they be good enough to pair with the sweet coconut sticky rice. Biting into a piece of tart mango and sweet sticky rice is one of the biggest food bummers of all time, in my opinion.

There are many kinds of mango in the market, but only few are suitable mates for your coconut sticky rice. So, to quote the Grail Knight from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, choose wisely.

Comments { 25 }

How to Peel and Slice a Mango

By on March 15, 2009 in She Deglutenizes, She Rants and Muses, She Thais, She Uncooks, She Veges


When an American sees me peel something with a knife — be it a piece of fruit or a potato — he or she invariably makes a comment about the way I hold the knife. Apparently, Americans generally hold their knife with the blade facing the body and, with the thumb guiding the knife, also work their way toward the body as they go. (The only exception to this is when they use a vegetable peeler in which case the peeling is done in quick strokes away from the body.) This is my observation. If you’re an American and you don’t peel this way, I’d say you’re definitely in the minority.

Thais, and perhaps other Asians, hold a knife with the blade facing away from the body and also peel away from the body, guiding the knife with the index finger. I can’t explain this cultural disparity. I am not presenting one way as better than the other either. I’m just reporting it.

That’s how we peel a mango — a ripe one, that is. (We have 2-3 different ways of peeling and slicing a green mango, but that’s irrelevant here.) Peeling a mango with a knife is as common to us as flipping a pancake or a burger patty is to most Americans. It’s done in a simple, straightforward, gadget-free fashion. It’s so instinctive that we don’t even think about it. When I told one of my cousins that I was going to blog about how to peel a mango, she wondered out loud whether I had completely run out of blogging ideas.

During my mother’s last visit to the US, we watched a cooking show together. You should have seen her reaction when the chef demonstrated three ways to cut a mango. The first was done by cutting the fruit — skin and all — into two halves, flipping each half over so the mango half rests on the skin side, scoring the flesh with a knife, and scooping out the scored flesh with a spoon. The second method was done with what the chef thought was the greatest kitchen tool ever — OXO mango splitter. The last method was done by slicing a piece off the base of the mango, standing it on the base, and slicing off the skin (along with half of the edible flesh in the process, unfortunately) the way one would a butternut squash.

My mother looked at the TV screen then at me. Not just her face, but her whole being, turned into a big question mark. No trace of self-righteous incredulity was found on her face; just sheer puzzlement. All that was followed by a monosyllabic utterance that captured it all, “Why?”

You see, I am a self-proclaimed non-dexterous dunce. So I’m the last person to tell you how you should peel a mango. This is just a post on how the Thai people peel a ripe mango, especially when it’s prepared for our traditional dish — mango with coconut sticky rice.

How to Tackle a Ripe Mango the Thai Way

1. Start off by getting a good semi-ripe mango from the store. You shouldn’t buy a mango that is perfectly ripe, but one that is a day or two before it reaches that stage. Perfectly ripe mangoes are very fragile and can easily get bruised in transit. It’s better to let your mango ripen on your kitchen counter than in a huge pile of mangoes at the store where it gets fondled by other shoppers.

2. Wash the mango thoroughly. The dirt and pesticide residue on the skin can be transferred to the exposed flesh through contact with your hands.

3. With a very sharp knife (or a serrated knife which works very well), make a shallow under-the-skin slice at the top of the mango. With your thumb pushing the blade (away from your body) and your index finger navigating the path, slowly peel a strip of skin off the mango along the curvature of the fruit. Start off with a thin strip as the wider the strip, the more likely you are to slice off too much flesh along with the skin.


4. Once the entire mango is peeled, position your knife parallel with the wide surface of the pit. (A mango is built like a fish with its flesh analogous to the fish meat and the pit analogous to the spine bone. So “fillet” a mango the way you would a fish.) Make a cut as close to the pit as possible. In see-sawing motion, work your knife blade along the length of the pit all the way to the end tip of the mango.

5. Cut the mango crosswise into thick slices. Serve immediately.

Comments are closed
Older posts Newer posts