Burnt Rubber and Smashing Garlic

burning rubber Photo by Paula Bronstein

One of my colleagues once complained that the aroma emanating from the Thai restaurant next to his apartment smelled like "burnt rubber." Granted, he was a snooty Francophile that believed any garlic cooked past the shade of a Twinkie was considered burnt. However, frying garlic is integral to Thai cooking, as a condiment, in some nam prik, or just to get some sauteed veggies going. The most important part is using your mortar and pestle to smash the garlic. This method smashes it all flat so it will cook evenly, get crispy and not burn.
Yes, people still use the mortar and pestle. You hear it everyday in Anytown, Thailand for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The clunk, clunk, ponk, ponk goes on somewhere. It is an incessant sound that becomes white noise after awhile, like the sound of the motorbike ripping around. You hear it when your are lost in the alleyways or lost in the forest.
The cost of a decent granite mortar and pestle is comparable to a blender, but the mortar and pestle gives you a texture and taste that is incomparable. Come find out why at our Monday dinners at Licorous.
One final thing to add - be sure to follow the superstitious rules about the mortar and pestle concerning the female and male anatomy that state: don't store the pestle in the mortar, don't bang the pestle in an empty or dry mortar and wash it right away. Seriously.

not burnt rubber

Authenticity

authentic

I think the word "authenticity" is a good subject to start with, and will probably be touched on again and again. Authenticity is a sticky word and when the contentious word involves food and cuisine then it can divide families and can turn the greatest chef into a Gumby caricature.
I am all or nothing when it comes to authenticity. Either everything is authentic or none of it is. It brings me back to a conversation I once had with my former chef who stated that my mother's Pacific Northwest Vashon Island chili is just as authentic (or inauthentic) as his mother's Houston chili- a bold and open minded statement for a Texan.

authentic experience?

As the foodie revolution takes hold of the dining public, the media instills a belief that it is a badge of honor to eat only the "authentic." Tacos only from vans. Ethiopian with your hands. Pate on a zinc bar. The problem is if they try too hard to be authentic, then it becomes akin to Disneyland.
If your definition for authentic is, "exactly the same as where it comes from," then you will be set up for disappointment. No matter how hard a chef may try, ingredients are never the same as they were in the motherland. The galangal makes the curry paste too wet. The egg noodles smell like ammonia. Sure, you could fly it in, or make it, or grow it yourself, but will the customer want to pay for that? OK, maybe they will pay for house made egg noodles, but not prik kii noo chillies flown in on a plane.

grandma and greatgranddaughter -same same but different

So where does that leave Shophouse and I? I will avoid the word "authentic" and consider the soul and traditions of Thai cuisine. I call it "roots" food. I will not lie and say it is exactly the way it tastes back in the motherland, but rest assured it is delicious. It is delicious because I listened to my teachers who figured out how to cook before me, taught me traditional techniques and taught me about quality ingredients. Garlic and chillies smashed with a mortar and pestle. Chickens and pork that were happy in their former life. Freshly pressed coconut milk. Meats, chillies and eggplants cooked over charcoal. This is not food channeled through the Food Network or the Lonely Planet. This is food channeled through grandma.

What is this?

This blog is a continuation of the 86 Seattle blog that we created last year in which we described our experience living in Thailand for a year. We met our goals of learning about food, culture and the family. We are now back in Seattle and ready to put what we learned into action. We are not 86 Seattle anymore, but Shophouse.

What is Shophouse? At this point Shophouse is a conceptual idea in which I can promote traditional Thai cuisine. Shophouse will hopefully turn from concept into a brick and mortar restaurant at some point in the future, but that leap requires cash and commitment - I only have one of these things at this point.

Why Shophouse? Shophouse is an architectural style often seen in South East Asian cities and towns in which the business is at the street level and the family quarters are in the back or upstairs. Business and family are only separated by thin cement walls and inevitably the two realms mix creating a unique retail experience. The retail experience that I am interested in is the dining and eating experience. To me Thai cuisine is all about eating among the cacophony of family, friends, strangers and whoever happens to be nearby. The food is served family style, the drinks keep coming and the music induces the appetite.

How is Shophouse? In this conceptual form, Shophouse is on the internet as this blog you are reading, the website, on facebook and twitter. All this media is used to promote roots Thai cooking and to promote our events in the real world.
In the real world Shophouse will be cooking Mondays starting October 11th at Licorous restaurant from 5-close. Shophouse will also perform specialized Thai street level catering for anyone interested.

Where is Shophouse? Shophouse is located in Seattle, USA.

Who is Shophouse? Shophouse is Poncharee Kounpungchart, photographer and Wiley Frank, chef.