Welcome back to The Deep Dive. Today, we are
taking a stack of research that honestly I thought
I already understood. Right. And we're just completely
dismantling it. We are talking about Thai cuisine.
Yes, we are. And I know you're probably thinking,
I know Thai food. I've had Pad Thai. I know it's
spicy. And that. that is exactly where we need
to start. Because if you look at the source material,
especially the encyclopedic records and the work
of chefs like David Thompson, the idea that Thai
food is just defined by being spicy, it's actually
a massive oversimplification. It's almost a complete
misunderstanding of the whole philosophy. There's
this quote from Thompson in the notes that I
absolutely loved. He says, Thai cooking isn't
about simplicity. It's about, quote, juggling
disparate elements to create a harmonious finish.
He compares it to a musical chord. Such a beautiful
analogy. I mean, think about a complex chord
on a piano. You have three or four different
notes played simultaneously, and individually,
they might actually sound dissonant or like they're
clashing, but together they create this smooth,
unified sound. That is the ultimate goal of a
tie -dish. You are balancing extremes to create
a center. So, our mission today is to basically
decode that chord. We're going to look at the
history, which involves a genuinely mind -blowing
fact about where chili peppers actually come
from. Yes. We'll break down the four culinary
regions that are totally distinct, and we're
going to talk about a literal robot built by
the government to taste test soup. The e -delicious
machine. It sounds like science fiction, but
it is very, very real. But let's start with the
basics. If the musical chord is the philosophy
here, what are the actual notes? So broadly speaking,
Thai cuisine is the interplay of four primary
sensations, sweet, sour, salty, and spicy. OK.
Now, Western palates often just get hit with
the spicy note and completely miss the rest.
But the balance is the key. And historically,
the way these flavors are delivered falls into
four broad categories of dishes. You have tom,
which are boiled dishes, yam, which are the spicy
salads, tam, which refers to pounded foods. Wait,
pounded? You mean like with a mortar and pestle?
Exactly. And the pounded category is distinct
from, say, chopped or blended. Oh really? Yeah,
when you pound a chili or a clove of garlic with
a heavy pestle, you're actually crushing the
cell walls in a way that releases oils and aromatics
that a knife just doesn't. It literally changes
the texture and the flavor release. So throwing
it in a food processor technically changes the
taste of the food compared to doing it by hand.
Significantly, yes. Wow. And then the fourth
category is kang, which we usually translate
as curry, though the Thai definition is much
looser than, say, the Indian definition of a
curry. Right. But before we even get to the curries
or the salads, we really have to talk about the
canvas, the thing that holds the entire cord
together, rice. Rice is king. The research was
extremely clear on this point. Oh, it is way
more than king. It's the linguistic anchor of
the whole culture. In Thai, the word for rice
is cow. But cow is also just the generic word
for food. So they're completely interchangeable
Essentially. Yeah, there is a very common greeting
King cow ru yang and literally translates to
have you eaten rice yet? But practically it just
means how are you? Exactly, right? You could
have just eaten a massive steak or a sandwich,
but the question is always about rice Yeah, it
implies that a meal without rice isn't really
a meal at all That is a level of dietary commitment
I can respect and it's not just one type of rice,
right? The notes highlighted a geographic split
here that I hadn't realized before. Yeah, and
that's actually your first clue to the regional
diversity we'll get into later. In the central
plains, around Bangkok, the staple is Jasmine
Rice. Khao Hong Mali. It's fragrant, long grain,
grows really well in the wet paddies. But if
you go north or northeast, the absolute staple
is sticky rice khao nyum. Sticky rice is the
best. It's basically an edible utensil. It is.
It creates completely different dining experience.
You use your hands, you ball it up, you dip it
into things. It's very tactile. Yeah. And rice
is so central to the culture that you even have
dishes like khao chai, which is rice served in
jasmine -flavored ice water. Rice and ice water.
That sounds, I don't know, soggy. It's a summer
dish. Yeah. You have to remember, before air
conditioning, the hot season in Thailand was
brutal. Oh, true. Khao Chai is incredibly refreshing,
floral, savory. It's served with these very intricate
side dishes. It just shows how versatile this
single grain is. OK, so we have the foundation,
the rice, and we have the four flavors. But let's
go back to that spicy note, because there is
a historical plot twist here that genuinely shocked
me when I was reading the sources. Ah, yes. This
is the big reveal for anyone studying Asian culinary
history. The chili pepper, the ingredient that
we all think of as the absolute soul of Thai
heat, is not native to Thailand. It's not native
to Asia at all. Correct. Chiles are a new world
crop. They did not arrive in Thailand until the
Columbian exchange. That is wild. Likely in the
16th or 17th century, brought over by Portuguese
and Spanish ships. This just blows my mind. So
for thousands of years, the people in this region
were cooking food that had zero chilies in it.
Narrow. None. Was it just bland, then? Not at
all. But the source of the heat was completely
different. They relied heavily on black pepper,
garlic, galangal, ginger. OK. These ingredients
provide heat, but it's a different kind of burn.
It's a slow warming heat, not that explosive
sharp punch you get from, say, a bird's eye chili.
It's amazing to think about how quickly a culture
can just adopt a completely foreign ingredient
and make it their defining feature. I mean, can
you imagine Thai food today without chilies?
It's really hard to do. But that is the genius
of Thai cuisine. It is incredibly adaptive. It
has always been this melting pot. You have a
massive influence from India, which brought the
use of dried spices like cumin and coriander,
and the whole concept of using food as herbal
medicine. Right. And then from the other side,
you have China. Exactly. The woke. Yes. The woke,
stir -frying, deep -frying, and noodles. Yep.
The word for noodles, quite see -how. is a direct
loan word from Tochu Chinese. So you basically
have Indian spices colliding with Chinese cooking
techniques, and then the Portuguese just show
up with chilies. And it wasn't just chilies the
Portuguese brought. We have to talk about dessert.
Oh, yes, the golden desserts. This story about
Maria Guiomar da Pina. It is such a fascinating
slice of history. So in the 17th century, the
capital was Ayutthaya. which was this incredibly
cosmopolitan trading hub. Right. And Maria Grigomar
da Pina was a woman of mixed ancestry. Japanese,
Portuguese, Bengali. She lived in Ibothaya and
actually worked in the royal kitchens. And she
introduced eggs to dessert. Specifically, egg
yolks and sugar syrup. Traditional Thai sweets
were mostly just coconut flour and palm sugar.
Maria adapted Portuguese recipes that normally
use cow's milk and egg yolks. But dairy wasn't
really a thing there. Exactly. Since dairy wasn't
common in Thailand, she swapped in coconut milk
but kept the egg yolks. And created things like
fly thong. Golden threads. It's literally egg
yolks boiled in syrup until they form these long
sweet strands. It's totally Portuguese in its
technique, but it became a signature Thai dessert.
It just reinforces that whole idea of the melting
pot. Okay, so we've established that Thai food
is this historical hybrid, but the research also
strongly suggests it's geographically fragmented.
We tend to just say Thai food, but a curry in
the north is apparently completely different
from a curry in the south. Absolutely. Treating
Thailand as a single culinary block is like saying
American food and lumping Texas barbecue in with
New England clam chowder. Good point. They are
completely distinct ecosystems. You can roughly
divide the country into four main culinary regions.
Let's take a tour. Start us in the center. So
the central region is the mixing bowl. This is
the Chao Phraya River Delta, home to Bangkok
and the old capital Ayutthaya. Because it's a
trade hub, the food here is the most complex.
It blends everything together. OK. This is where
you find the really heavy use of coconut milk.
And the flavor profile is generally that standard
balance of sweet, sour, salty, and spicy all
at once. So this is what most of us get at a
standard Thai takeout place in the West. Green
curry, red curry. Correct. It's also the home
of royal cuisine, which we'll touch on in a minute.
But from there, let's head north. And the geography
here changes everything. Completely. You are
up in the mountains, cooler valleys, bordering
Burma and Laos. And the first thing you notice,
no coconut trees. So no coconut milk in the curry.
Traditionally, very little. Coconuts just don't
thrive in the cool dry winters of the north.
So northern curries, like Kai and Kai, are broth
based. Interesting. They're highly herbal, spicy,
bitter even, loaded with jungle vegetables. But
they don't have that creamy sweetness we usually
associate with a Thai curry. But wait, I have
to stop you there. The most famous northern dish,
the one everyone is always posting on Instagram,
is khao soi, and that is a noodle soup literally
swimming in rich coconut milk. But that is the
exception that proves the rule. Oh, really? Yeah.
Khao soi is actually a result of the caravan
trade. It came from Chinese Muslim traders coming
down from Yunnan. It's a dish born entirely of
the trade routes. It's not originally native
Lana food in the ancient sense, but it has absolutely
become the region's mascot today. I love that.
A foreign dish becomes the core regional identity.
OK, moving to the Northeast, Isan. This seems
to be the region that hardcore foodies are completely
obsessed with right now. Isan is the soul of
the peasantry in many ways. It's an arid plateau
bordering Laos and Cambodia. It's hot, it's dry,
and the food here is intense. Intense how? Well,
it's not about that polite balance of the central
region. It's about extremes. Very spicy, very
sour, and very salty. And the salt doesn't come
from that clear fish sauce we all know, right?
No, it doesn't. In the West, and mostly in central
Thailand, we use Nam Pla, the clear amber liquid.
But Izan uses Pla Ra. Pla Ra. Yes. It's opaque,
it's thick, and it's made from fermented fish
chunks. It is incredibly pungent. The notes described
it as having a, quote, deep, savory funk. That's
a very polite way to put it. For the uninitiated,
it can be completely overpowering. But it provides
a depth of umami that makes Ezon food incredibly
addictive. And this is also the region where
protein gets quite resourceful. You're talking
about the insects. I am. It is a massive industry.
There's something like 20 ,000 cricket farms
in Thailand, and most are right there in the
Northeast. I saw the bamboo worm mentioned in
the sources, the rot duan. Literally translates
to express train. because it looks like a little
train car. That's hilarious. They deep fry them.
And honestly, if you can get past the visual,
it tastes like a nutty potato chip or popcorn.
Yeah. Just a crunchy, salty snack. I'll take
your word for it. And some tam, the famous papaya
salad, is from here too. Yes, but be warned.
The Bangkok version you might know is sweet and
mild, often with peanuts and dried shrimp. Yeah.
The real Isan version uses plara, salted field
crabs, and a frankly frightening amount of chili.
It is a completely different beast. Noted. Proceed
with caution. Finally, let's go south. The south
is a tropical peninsula. You have oceans on both
sides, Malaysia to the south. Down here, turmeric
is king. So that's why southern curries are often
yellow? Exactly. And because you are surrounded
by palm trees, the coconut milk usage is very
heavy. It's rich, oily, and fiercely spicy. Think
dishes like kong kai plaw, which is a fish innards
curry. Wow. And this is where Massaman curry
comes from. Yes. Massaman is fascinating because
the name itself is related to the word Muslim.
It reflects the Persian and Indian traders who
came through the southern ports. Oh, that makes
sense. It uses dried spices like cardamom, cinnamon,
cloves, nutmeg, the things that you rarely ever
see in other Thai curries. It's a true hybrid
dish. It was actually ranked number one in a
CNN poll of the world's best foods a while back.
And it deserves it. It's a powerhouse of flavor.
It has the richness of the coconut, the depth
of the dried spices, and the heat of the chili.
So we've toured the regions. Now imagine I am
sitting down to eat this incredible spread of
food, I pick up my chopsticks, and you are looking
at me like I've just committed a crime. Well,
maybe not a crime, but perhaps a minor cultural
faux pas. There's a very common misconception
in the West that all Thai food is eaten with
chopsticks. But I see chopsticks in Thai restaurants
all the time. You do. But traditionally, chopsticks
are only used for noodle dishes. The kway teow
we mentioned earlier. Ah, the Chinese influence.
Exactly. If you are eating rice and curry, which
is the core meal, chopsticks are actually very
impractical. The rice literally falls through
them. So what is the actual tool of choice? The
scone and fork. But there is a very specific
system to it. You hold the spoon in your right
hand and the fork in your left. The fork is just
a tool, kind of like a hoe or a shovel's assistant.
Okay. You use the fork to push the rice and curry
onto the scone and the spoon goes into your mouth.
The fork never actually touches your lips. Really?
Why is that? Is it considered dirty? It's just
considered crude. It's simply not how it's done.
Where did this even come from? Because spoons
and forks aren't exactly ancient Asian utensils.
No, they're a relatively modern adaptation. The
practice was introduced by King Chila Longhorn,
Rama IV, in 1897. He toured Europe, saw Western
dining habits, and decided to modernize Thai
etiquette. Before that, people mostly ate with
their hands, which, by the way, is still the
best and most traditional way to eat sticky rice
in the North and Northeast. So the fork and spoon
is basically a royal decree. Pretty much. Well,
speaking of royalty, I often see royal Thai cuisine
or a hanshao wang on menus. Is this actually
different food or is it just marketing to charge
an extra five dollars for my green curry? That
is a subject of intense debate among food historians.
If you look at the source material, specifically
Chef McDang, who's a huge authority and actually
descended from the royal family himself, he argues
that the flavor of royal cuisine isn't fundamentally
different. The soul of the dish is the same.
So what makes it royal, then? Labor and presentation.
It is all about refinement. In true royal cuisine,
you will never find a bone. You will never encounter
a stray fruit seed. The fish is entirely deboned.
The vegetables are carved into these intricate
flowers or geometric shapes. It's like the high
definition version of the food. That's a great
way to put it. And the flavors are often tamed.
You won't find the extreme stink of the plara
or the face melting heat of a jungle curry. It's
polite food. Right. It's balanced, elegant, very
pretty, but it's not necessarily tastier than
what a grandmother in a rural village is cooking.
Well, speaking of exporting a specific image
of Thai food, the polite, elegant version, we
have to talk about the government. Because I
had absolutely no idea that the proliferation
of Thai restaurants around the world was a calculated
geopolitical strategy. It is arguably the most
successful example of gastro -diplomacy in modern
history. When did this even start? Around 2002.
The Thai government realized that their food
was their single strongest cultural export. People
everywhere loved it. So they officially launched
the Kitchen of the World campaign. What was the
actual goal? Pure numbers, initially. They wanted
to increase the number of Thai restaurants overseas
from about 5 ,500 to 8 ,000. Did it work? Massively.
By 2011, they had hit 10 ,000. Today, they're
probably well over 15 ,000. But how does a government
practically do that? Do they own the restaurants?
No, they facilitated them. They made it incredibly
easy for private investors. They offered loans.
They set up specific visa pathways for Thai chefs
to go abroad. But the craziest part was the master
restaurant plans. Yeah, this sounded like something
straight out of a corporate franchise handbook.
It basically was. The government created pre
-approved business plans. As an investor, you
could choose from three tiers, fast food, mid
-range, or high -end. Wow. They provided the
blueprints, the decor guidelines, the menu templates,
and even the supply chains for sourcing authentic
ingredients. So if you go to a Thai restaurant
in Denver and then one in London and they both
have that exact same purple orchid, the dark
wood paneling, and the weight staff and silk,
that's not a coincidence. Not at all. It is highly
likely by design they standardized the brand
of Thailand. But this intense desire for standardization
eventually led to something, frankly, bizarre.
The robot. Please, we have to talk about the
robot. The Tidelicious Project. Yes. The government
actually allocated a significant budget to develop
an intelligent robot, the eDelicious machine.
I still can't believe this is real. What does
it actually do? Does it have a little mouth?
No mouth. It's essentially a box packed with
sensors. It have 10 sensors that measure conductivity,
acidity, and specific chemical signatures. Okay.
The idea was to scan a dish. say a Tom Yonkung,
and the machine would give it a score from 1
to 100 based on how authentic it tasted. Wait,
how does a robot know what authentic tastes like?
Taste is entirely subjective. They tried to solve
that. They held massive tastings with students
and workers at Chula Longhorn University. They
established a standard flavor profile based on
those preferences, essentially crowdsourcing
the perfect taste, and then programmed that exact
chemical data into the machine. So if I make
a soup, The robot scans it, compares it to the
database, and just gives me a grade. Exactly.
If you scored an 80 or above, you were considered
standard. The government actually considered
issuing Eatalicious logos to restaurants that
passed the test to prove their authenticity.
That feels incredibly dystopian to me. A government
robot deciding if my curry has enough soul. It
raises a massive philosophical question, doesn't
it? Food is a living culture. It constantly evolves.
If a grandmother in a village makes a tom yam
that is slightly too sour, or uses a different
herb because that's what grew in her garden that
week, is she wrong? It implies there is only
one correct way to be Thai. Precisely. It prioritizes
consistency over character. It's the literal
industrialization of a national cuisine. And
critics strongly argued that if you freeze a
cuisine in a database, you stop it from growing.
And speaking of industrialization, the Kitchen
of the World campaign didn't just affect restaurants
abroad, it deeply affected the farms back home.
The research touched on some much darker sides
of this massive boom. Well, you can't feed the
world without drastically scaling up agriculture.
And unfortunately, Thailand now ranks very high
in the use of agricultural chemicals. Yeah, I
saw a stat in the notes from 2019 that was pretty
alarming. Yes. The Thai Pesticide Alert Network
released a report finding that something like
41 % of produce samples they tested had unsafe
levels of chemical residues. That is a significant
challenge for them. It is. When the demand is
global, the pressure on the local farmers is
immense. There are also rising issues with authenticity
in the supply chain itself. Like what? Things
like mislabeling pork as halal to sell to Muslim
markets or producing fish sauce that is so diluted
it doesn't even meet the minimum nitrogen standards
to be legally considered real non -pla. So the
incredible success of Kitchen of the World comes
with a serious cost. Quantity can threaten quality.
It's the double -edged sword of becoming a global
food superpower. You get the massive economic
boost and the soft power influence, but you risk
commodifying and diluting the very heritage you
were trying to celebrate. So what does this all
mean for you, the hungry listener? We have traveled
from the 16th century arrival of the chili pepper
through the four completely disdained regions
all the way to a robot judging soup authenticity.
I think the main takeaway from all the sources
is to embrace the complexity. Thai food isn't
just one thing. It isn't just spicy. It's a dynamic
living entity. It absorbed the chili and made
it its own. It absorbed the spoon and fork. It
adapted to the world. And as eaters, we should
really respect that diversity. Don't go to a
northern Thai restaurant and demand coconut milk
just because that's what you assume Thai food
is. Exactly. Eat what the locals eat, how they
eat it, and maybe, just maybe, be brave enough
to try the fermented fish sauce. I am definitely
going to try the spoon and cork method next time.
No more struggling with rice falling through
my chopsticks. You sure will, thank you. Before
we go, I want to leave you with a thought about
that e -delicious robot. If we start defining
good or authentic food by a standardized rigid
data set, do we risk losing the happy accidents?
The strange little variations that actually create
new traditions? If perfect Thai food is just
bureaucratic Thai food, is it even delicious
anymore? That is the big question. If we prioritize
perfection, we might just lose the soul. I'd
take a slightly imperfect, handmade curry over
a robot -approved standard any day. Me too. Thanks
for diving deep with us into the world of Thai
cuisine. Go out there, order something you've
never tried before, maybe the insects if you're
feeling brave, and we will catch you on the next
one. Sawasdee krup.