Coffee-Break Tales

Why Thai coffee doesn’t taste like coffee?

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"Why Thai coffee doesn’t taste like coffee?" asked me one of the readers of my book Back in Bethlehem. Those who have not read the book won’t understand my surprise at the question. Part of the book takes place in Thailand, coffee is clearly mentioned, yet… it’s like visiting Bangkok’s Grand Palace and asking the guide about Angkor Wat. "After all there is a model of the Cambodian site in the Thai Palace," would the traveler justify the unexpected question.Yet, don’t forget...Read More

"Why Thai coffee doesn’t taste like coffee?" asked me one of the readers of my book Back in Bethlehem. Those who have not read the book won’t understand my surprise at the question. Part of the book takes place in Thailand, coffee is clearly mentioned, yet… it’s like visiting Bangkok’s Grand Palace and asking the guide about Angkor Wat. "After all there is a model of the Cambodian site in the Thai Palace," would the traveler justify the unexpected question.

Yet, don’t forget that a European visiting an American coffee shop would exclaim the same at the sight of the wildly flavored coffees offered in the latter. Moreover, the "chai" sold in America is not even remotely similar to Burmese chai. Coffee was introduced to Thailand from Laos, which got the technology from its colonial masters, the French. Little known due to its limited exports, Laotian coffee is considered among the best in the world. Some of the coffee available in Thailand originates in Laos, especially the coffee sold along the Thai Mekong riverside towns. I reviewed the extraordinary Laotian coffee preparation method in the journal love from First Sip. I won’t touch the preparation issue here; after all, what does it matter if the resulting coffee doesn’t taste like my favorite cup of coffee?

The main drink sold in Thai coffee stalls is called "gafeh tung," the general name for all the coffees prepared with a cloth filter (if you want it black and hot, then ask for "gafeh ron," see Between a "G" and a "K" in this journal). A cup can be bought for B10 (roughly $0.33); this includes a complementary cup of green tea after the coffee. Thais seldom drink the coffee black; usually a thick layer of condensed milk is poured into the cup first and then it is followed by the coffee and some water to dilute it down to a drinkable concentration. To end the process in a neat conceptual circle, a bit of evaporated milk is added; the coffee is so dark that the milk added in such a way does not have any effect on its color. After the blend is stirred, the thick, solid brown color of perfection is achieved. The result is much thicker than any coffee in the West and tourists drinking it for the first time often compare it to thick chocolate.

However, my reader was correct. Not only the texture is different, the taste is also unusual. Starbucks serves vanilla and chocolate flavored coffees; adding flavors is a common practice also in Western countries. Thais prefer other flavors, and to the ground coffee, they add ground tamarind or pickled plum. The specific flavor is decided by the staff, since due to the nature of the process, all the coffees at a given moment are prepared with the same filter. As well, the condensed milk contains palm oil. The result is quite attractive and features that lush richness of the tropics, though it doesn’t resemble a proper Italian cappuccino.

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On South American and Thai Cuisines

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Red Curry with Prawns Photo - Thailand, Asia

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At first sight, there aren’t two cuisines more afar than the Thai and South American ones. I have extensively described both and the conclusions are clear. Thais favor complex dishes, heavily spiced balancing several flavors at once. South American cuisines prefer unsophisticated dishes—just burn the meat—with few or no spices. Thais adore blending hot, sour and sweet; most South Americans spice up exclusively with salt, and would claim that saffron is too spicy, and chilies are barbaric. Don’t catch me on the word here; I’m just trying to summarize a lot of data. Bolivians use chilies, but in a limited way, ...Read More

At first sight, there aren’t two cuisines more afar than the Thai and South American ones. I have extensively described both and the conclusions are clear. Thais favor complex dishes, heavily spiced balancing several flavors at once. South American cuisines prefer unsophisticated dishes—just burn the meat—with few or no spices. Thais adore blending hot, sour and sweet; most South Americans spice up exclusively with salt, and would claim that saffron is too spicy, and chilies are barbaric. Don’t catch me on the word here; I’m just trying to summarize a lot of data. Bolivians use chilies, but in a limited way, while Thais can also just eat burnt meat if they are ravenous enough.

Then, if ignoring shapes and flavors, something becomes astonishingly obvious. Three main ingredients in the Thai cuisine originate in South America. Peanuts are native from the Chaco wastelands between Bolivia and Paraguay. Papayas come from the Amazonian forests. Other popular ingredients–like guavas, "farang" in Thai, a term used also towards Western travelers–were brought also from South America. Then, the ubiquitous Thai chilies, also originated in the Americas, where they were popular all over until colonial times. Yet, they are used in Thailand in ways that would render them unrecognizable to their original farmers. Most South American would probably refuse to eat an unripe papaya and guava after those being dip in a mixture of hot chili and sugar.

Yet, the undisputable king of South American influence in Thai cuisine is the som tam, a popular salad combining peanuts and papayas.
A fierce Isaan concoction, som tam is often translated as papaya salad. Hearing the popularized English name may be misleading; fruits in Thailand are often eaten unripe adding thus a sour taste to the dish instead of a sweet one. In fact, the Thai name means "sour pounded."
This is the case here, where shredded unripe papayas are mixed with a variety of additional ingredients; the last change enormously, but the most common ones are peanuts and green beans, tomatoes and small fresh water crabs are also popular. Lime and chilies are the main spices added. In Bangkok and adjacent areas, peanuts are generously added. As with most of Isaan dishes, the chilies play an important role, rendering an incredibly hot salad. This is the main dish eaten by street vendors; if looking at their stalls carefully at noon, one will often find a discreetly placed som tam plate. Simply, its heat creates a sense of fullness in the stomach. More often than not, this is a standalone dish, eaten with no additions, though sometimes sticky rice is added. A fork and a spoon are used for eating it; these two are the most popular cutlery used with Thai dishes. The fork is used for putting food on the spoon, which is then used for carrying it into the mouth. A fork is never put in contact with the mouth. Knives—being potential weapons—are never put on the table.

The result is amazing. The core of the dish is made with South American dishes; yet, no one in this continent would recognize som tam or the way it is consumed. Probably they would refuse tasting it, or spit out the first spoon they try. Caramba!
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On Lakam and Loquat

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Dragon Fruit (center) Photo - Thailand, Asia

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Thailand—as the rest of Southeast Asia—is awesomely rich in fruits. Their variety is wide and their quality exceptional. Yet, even the fruit-loving traveler would find himself at lost while staring at some of them for the first time. If seeing a durian for the first time while in a Thai supermarket, few will figure out that this spiky fruit must be open with a machete-like knife, while wearing thick gloves. The stench following this action will be even harder to predict. Time and again I triumphed over these difficulties with the help of guesthouse workers in remote areas. Unlike their guild-broth...Read More

Thailand—as the rest of Southeast Asia—is awesomely rich in fruits. Their variety is wide and their quality exceptional. Yet, even the fruit-loving traveler would find himself at lost while staring at some of them for the first time. If seeing a durian for the first time while in a Thai supermarket, few will figure out that this spiky fruit must be open with a machete-like knife, while wearing thick gloves. The stench following this action will be even harder to predict. Time and again I triumphed over these difficulties with the help of guesthouse workers in remote areas. Unlike their guild-brothers in Bangkok, they have all the time in the world to explain these important issues to the traveler while practicing their English.

One of these odd fruits is the lakam. In its season, cartloads of it can be seen in Bangkok. Yet, these smallish, oval and very spiky fruits manage to scare more than lure. In one of my escapes out of town, I headed to the southeastern beaches, reaching a little known resort town. The owner of my favorite guesthouse—a lawyer from Bangkok than decided to run a guesthouse near a sunny beach—was sitting next to the establishment door with a bunch of lakam fruits on her lap.

"This is ‘lakam,’ I don’t know its name in English," she said after noticing I was studying the fruits with interest.

"How do you eat it?" I asked.

She showed me how to open it without getting the fingers hurt and then handed me the dark-yellow flesh. "Be careful with the seed," she added. The warning was in place, the flesh barely covered a large stone-like seed. The fruit had a peculiar bittersweet flavor which obviously justified its popularity in Bangkok. However, serendipity doesn’t have preferences in its directions.

While traveling in northern Thailand, in my way back to one of the kingdom’s most beautiful places, I spotted in a convenience store placed in the middle of nowhere, a jar filled with pickled loquat fruits. These small, yellow fruits have large seeds and a tangy flesh with a flavor in between a mango and a peach; they are one of my favorite fruits. Originally from Southern China, nowadays they are grown even in my country. Yet, despite my enjoying most of the Thai cuisine—even unripe fruits spiced up with sugar and chili—pickled fruits are not for me. I cannot imagine a more vicious action towards an otherwise perfect mango. Unluckily, loquats are delicate fruits; they bruise easily. Seldom are they available in markets, except as pickles. Shunning the revolting sight, I bought a few mangos, and spent the rest of the way nibbling on them while enjoying the views. After a couple of hours, I arrived at my destination. Two Burmese pagodas next to a smallish pond were almost buried under a lush mountain. Next to them was my usual guesthouse in that town.

From afar I spotted the owner sitting next to the entrance. She was eating something while looking in the direction of the pond. Thus, I appeared to her as an act of magic. One moment she was alone—during the monsoons season few travelers venture into the area—and the next, there I was, greedily staring at a pile of fresh loquat fruits.
"Hi," she said, recognizing me, "Do you want some fruits?" she added offering me the bowl and pointing at an adjacent chair.
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Big Blue Mountain

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I was exploring one of the lush, green islands dotting Thailand’s seas, when I saw something unusual. Among the greenery, a very simple hut had a large sign stating "Coffee." No other houses could be seen in the vicinity, but that meant little; an entire village could be easily hidden in the steep terrain surrounding the coffee shop. I had no choices; this was a "must stop" spot. Once inside, I was surprised for a second time. I was expecting a simple setup, serving the simplest version of coffee available in Thailand. Since the sign was in English, maybe he would serve also cheap coffee of the soluble type. That was fine; no coffee is too shabby for SeenThat.Yet, I was welcomed by the shiniest...Read More

I was exploring one of the lush, green islands dotting Thailand’s seas, when I saw something unusual. Among the greenery, a very simple hut had a large sign stating "Coffee." No other houses could be seen in the vicinity, but that meant little; an entire village could be easily hidden in the steep terrain surrounding the coffee shop. I had no choices; this was a "must stop" spot. Once inside, I was surprised for a second time. I was expecting a simple setup, serving the simplest version of coffee available in Thailand. Since the sign was in English, maybe he would serve also cheap coffee of the soluble type. That was fine; no coffee is too shabby for SeenThat.
Yet, I was welcomed by the shiniest Japanese espresso machine. It was literally shiny, because most of it was made of transparent glass that was kept impeccably clean. Behind it, on a line of equally clean shelves, there were glass jars filled with coffee and carefully labeled in English. One of the labels caught my attention. It read "Blue Mountain." Many consider it the best coffee on earth; it originates in the site of the same name in Jamaica. One of its peculiarities is that more of it is sold than produced. In other words, it is a popular target of fakes. In one of my visits to Europe, I had the opportunity to taste it in a place that for sure sold the original. I may not agree on its being the best coffee on earth, but for sure it is among the finalists. It has an extraordinary flavor, and an aftertaste that is its signature. I had no illusions. The jar probably contained fake Blue Mountain coffee. Yet, this place was so shiny and unexpected….
Next to the machine was the stubby owner. He watched with interest my silent investigation and after a few seconds handed me a menu. The stated prices were very steep for Thailand. Yet, a cup of Blue Mountain coffee couldn’t possibly be sold at such a low price. Except for a few baht, I had nothing to lose. "One Blue Mountain, please," I summarized the preliminary findings of my research.
"So you know a lot about coffee," the owner said while preparing the machine for the delicate task of preparing the best coffee on earth.
"Why do you think so?"
"Just the way you studied the machine and the coffees. I got the machine from a Japanese friend," he said caressing the contraption.
"Is it really Blue Mountain?"
"Yes, a friend from Hawaii sends it to me regularly." At this point, I was worried. Hawaii is home to Kona coffee, which many consider the second best coffee on our blue marble. Yet, I said nothing. Seconds later a transparent cup of coffee was placed in front of me. From its aroma, I could tell it had spent too long in the glass jar, which was exposed to the relentless tropical sun. The coffee had burnt even before being put inside the shiny machine. One sip of the tasteless mix confirmed that. It was impossible to say where that dark powder had been harvested, or even if it was coffee at all. In Thailand ground tamarind is regularly added to the coffee in the markets; as far as I could judge, I tasted pure ground tamarind. I needed to change the topic, and fast. There was a picture of a matronly woman on one of the shelves.
"Is that your wife?" I ventured while taking another tasteless sip. As said, nothing is too shabby for me.
"That’s mia yai," he said mysteriously.
I understood both Thai words, but together they made little sense. "Mia" means "wife," "yai" means "big." Was he obscenely referring to the obvious weight problem of the person in the picture? He hadn’t winked, or given any sign he was joking. He saw my hesitation and explained:
"It means ‘big wife.’ It is the first wife. If a Thai man is wealthy enough to support his wife in comfort, he can take a second wife, who is then called mia noi, or ‘little wife.’" He summarized while preparing for himself a coffee. This time, he didn’t use the Blue Mountain. That was a good diversion; we spent the next few minutes exploring the subtleties of such a marriage. Then, as I was preparing to leave, I respectfully handed him one of the second largest Thai banknotes, expecting to get no change after calculating the tip. "Kop kun kap," (thank you) I said with a smile.
"It’s OK, I invite. Please come back."
Seconds later, the hut disappeared in the greenery; the turquoise sea was just minutes ahead of me.
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Between a "G" and a "K"

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Wat Phra Kaew Don Tao, Lampang Photo - Thailand, Asia

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If growing up within the realm of a single language, few realize consonants can display as many variations as vowels. Those of us who move back and forth among different families of languages understand that, but this is of little help when it is time to get a cup of "gafeh ron.""G" and "K," "B" and "P," and "D" and "T," are three pairs of closely related consonants. Sometimes, the letters within one of these pairs are interchanged, as happens in the Thai rendering of the word "coffee." In some languages, one letter of the pair is missing, like in Arabic, which lacks the "P." In other languages, in between sounds are added to these pairs. This characterizes Thai, where in-between-c...Read More

If growing up within the realm of a single language, few realize consonants can display as many variations as vowels. Those of us who move back and forth among different families of languages understand that, but this is of little help when it is time to get a cup of "gafeh ron."

"G" and "K," "B" and "P," and "D" and "T," are three pairs of closely related consonants. Sometimes, the letters within one of these pairs are interchanged, as happens in the Thai rendering of the word "coffee." In some languages, one letter of the pair is missing, like in Arabic, which lacks the "P." In other languages, in between sounds are added to these pairs. This characterizes Thai, where in-between-consonants are the nightmare of those attempting to learn the language.

A humble person, my goals are often stated in more human terms. Instead of "learning the language," I try to "order a coffee in Thai." I love coffee, as the many entries I have dedicated to the topic prove.

To my horror, coffee in Thai is spelled using the first letter of their elegant alphabet. This letter is usually transliterated as "g" (like in "go"), but it often sounds like a consonant in between a "g" and a "k." Thus, "coffee" in Thailand sounds something in between "gafeh" and "kafeh." At least, it is pronounced using the plain tone in both syllables. This plain rendering characterizes foreign words adopted by Thai speakers.

Then, "hot" in Thai is "ron," pronounced in a rising tone. "R" is another complicated sound in Thai. In Bangkok, it sounds like a Hebrew "r" (tongue on the palate), but outside Bangkok, it is usually pronounced like an "l." Other times it is simply skipped. For example, the masculine politeness particle is written "krap;" however, it is invariably pronounced "kap." In the word "ron," the combination of an "r" with a rising tone transforms the task of pronouncing the word into a Herculean one. I had always failed.

"Gafeh ron," I would carefully say to the vendor at a coffee stall serving hot coffee after the mandatory greetings. Invariably, I would get a blank stare in response, or an embarrassment giggle. To the traveler this may seem odd. After all, they just serve the delicious elixir. What else could I order there? It would be easy to blame Thai denizens on being unhelpful. Yet, think about the opposite case: a Thai in your hometown entering a coffee shop and asking for "gafeh." Would he be served? Would a waiter serve a coffee despite not being sure what the mispronounced request was?

"Gafeh ron," I repeated, clearly pointing at the relevant preparation equipment next to the vendor.

"Gafeh rOn," I was corrected and served a steaming cup with a smile.

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