I am traveling to Phuket, Thailand, this month and was wondering if you have any recommended restaurants/cafes. Thank you for your assistance, and happy eating! –Emma, Sydney
Emma, I admit it’s been a while since I’ve seen Phuket. I spent a month there while working on a Fodor’s update just before the tsunami hit in late 2004, then returned to cover the aftermath. Things have changed a lot since then. The answers to your question depend on where you plan to stay and how far you hope to venture in your island travels. Phuket is smothered in hotels and restaurants, spanning numerous beaches – your options run wide, and when you land, you are sure to read and hear about the most popular places (though not necessarily the best places). Here’s what I can tell you about some of the smaller, less publicized gems:
In Phuket town, Nai Yao is a great little on-the-sidewalk seafood restaurant that opens only at night on Phuket Road. Excellent crab and fish.
During the day, try Wilai at 14 Talang Road, in Phuket town. She offers fresh Thai “fast food” made each morning,and her place simply sparkles, it’s so clean. Wonderful cook, great conversationalist. Plus, the Old Phuket neighborhood boasts some of the island’s finest remaining architecture. Check out the China Inn & Restaurant, just a few doors away, for the ambience.
Kopi de Phuket on Phuket Road (again, in town) – best bet for kick-starting your day with sufficient caffeine.
RuamJai (on Ranong Road near the market in town) is a good spot to try classic Thai vegetarian dishes made to look like the real thing. Fried chicken, fish, curries, hotdogs – all purely veg.
On Nai Yang Beach, try the Bank Restaurant for good seafood and tables in the sand. Wife runs the restaurant, husband fishes for your dinner. It’s just south of Pearl Village, right on the water.
About five km from the Bang Thao Beach resorts, heading east, look for a a small sign on the left side of the road noting “Seafood.” If you pass the mosque, you’ve gone too far. It’s a little Muslim streetside shanty offering great local curries, noodles and (obviously) seafood dishes. Ask for anything you want, and the nice woman just might make it – along with an aromatic bowl of cardamom soup.
When you land in Phuket, pick up a dining guide for maps and up-to-date phone numbers. A few of the more famous restaurant names you are sure to encounter: Baan Rim Pa, Joe’s Downstairs and Da Maurizio, a trio of upscale cliffside/waterside restaurants on the north end of Patong; Mom Tri’s Boathouse (and cooking school) in Kata; Panwa House, an antique plantation house restaurant on a secluded beach – good ambience. In addition, Kan Eang is a longtime popular seafood restaurant with two branches in Cholong. Kan Eang I recently went through a complete overhaul; I’ve heard mediocre reviews of the food since (although it ranked highly years ago). Kan Eang II still gets high marks from Thais and foreigners.
Enjoy the trip! And let me know if you discover anything new worth noting.
Just south of China in the far northeast corner of Vietnam is a bay of nearly 2,000 islands. It is in many ways the cradle of Vietnamese civilization, with an archaeological record 25,000 years old. Fishermen have lived on these islands and waters for millennia. Some villagers rarely set foot on land, spending most of their lives in boats and floating homes.
Halong Bay is also one of the most beautiful places on earth, which is why hordes of tourists hop on junk boats made to look old and they cruise those islands, stopping hither and yon to explore caves and mountains. You can imagine how good the seafood is — and you’d be wrong. It’s even better. True, the life on land isn’t so pretty and the town is a bit of a pit. But you’d be hard-pressed to find better crab or shrimp or saltwater fish than what you’ll eat every day in Halong Bay.
If you get your hands on December’s issue of Gourmet, you can learn more about Halong Bay in my feature, “On the Waterfront.” I haven’t even seen it yet (it takes a while for my copy to get here, and the issues on the shelves around here are always at least two months old). If Halong City is ever on your itinerary, be sure to try the local seafood restaurants on the street heading uphill, around the corner from the post office. Cross the bay to the “other” Halong City to check out the seafood market.
“Crab fried with salt” (and lemongrass, garlic, rice wine, chili…)
Right about this time of year, 42 years ago, Sharon Sites Adams learned to sail. She loved her newfound hobby so much, she bought a boat and christened it the day before Thanksgiving. A few weeks later while writing Christmas cards in the harbor, Sharon had a thought: I wonder if I can sail to Hawaii alone.
Six months later, Sharon embarked on the first of two journeys that would make her famous. She became the first woman to sail solo from the mainland United States to Hawaii, and in 1969 she became the first woman to sail the Pacific alone. She accomplished her feats in what remained the dark ages of sailing, long before the Internet or GPS. Today, Sharon lives just outside of Portland, Oregon. Together, we’re writing her memoirs, Pacific Lady, forthcoming from the University of Nebraska Press.
Yesterday, I re-worked the part in which Sharon prepares her boat for weeks at sea. The expedition from California to Hawaii would take little over a month, but she stocked for 90 days. As her instructor told her, if she missed Hawaii she might drift out there until she hit the Solomons or New Guinea. That meant the necessity of filling a 10-gallon water tank and 26 one-gallon jugs, stowed throughout the boat. As for eats:
I would survive on canned foods stored in the bilge, which meant I had to remove each label, mark each can with grease pencil and dip the cans in lacquer to prevent rusting. I threw a lacquering party, and my friends pitched in. I packed a well-balanced mix of meats, fruits and vegetables in small containers, since I didn’t want leftovers. But the lack of labels worried me. What if the pencil wore off? No pictures, no names, nothing but a mystery inside. What if I grabbed beets for breakfast? I despise vegetables in the morning. Those little cans held enormous psychological clout. I would learn out there, in the great expanse, that food had the power to make or break my mood.
Sea Sharp II, the boat Sharon sailed from Japan to California
The other day we had a little work in Kep, not at all a bad place to emerge for lunch. We went straight to the Thmor Da (the usual, the ordinary) restaurant in a little market strip that hangs over water’s edge. What you get here is indeed the usual, Kep-style, which is truly wonderful: the freshest of seafood cooked with the zing of locally grown pepper, green and black.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again (and again — check back for more on this subject in a couple of weeks): some of the world’s best pepper grows in Kep. I’m not alone in these thoughts. Fellow food blogger Phil at Phnomenon recently named pepper from this province as one of the top five Cambodian foods to eat before you die.
Here, fresh shrimp is stir-fried with whole green peppercorns, onions and chili. Below is a tasty, fleshy stingray I chose straight off the grill. Both dishes were served with a side of vinegar chili sauce and Cambodia’s famous crushed black pepper and lime dip.
Generally speaking, you’ll find the best Cambodian seafood at bright Khmer restaurants with plastic chairs and fold-up tables. I spot the Phnom Kamchay Thmey on a corner near the river in Kampot, and I know it will have good crab and shrimp.
We go there with a Swiss man who has just driven a dirt bike in from Sihanoukville. He’s here on an extended vacation after freelancing for the UN in the former Yugoslavia. We first meet over sunset drinks, discussing post-conflict countries and genocides the world has failed to stop. He tells us Cambodia looks good on the surface, better than Africa: The kids are happy, people aren’t starving, there are government buildings with desks and chairs, and aid groups everywhere. This is true.
But we fill him in on the reality below the surface — high infant mortality rates, government corruption, disappearing aid money, land-grabbing schemes and all the things about Cambodia that are easily missed when simply passing through.
He is intrigued. He is not a usual tourist; he turns the other way when he sees a crowd. He seeks an honest view of people and places.
We take our conversation up the road to the Phnom Kamchay Thmey and order a plate of fried shrimp with citronella and saffron, crab curry and another crab fried with Kampot black pepper. The curry comes in a steaming terrine, rich and thick. Both crabs are juicy and sweet; the shrimp infused with the aroma of herbs. It’s the seafood I’ve been searching for.
We talk more — about child labor, the focus of our current journalistic project here; about the kids and parents who work together in Kampot’s salt fields; about the reality here (and in most the world) that kids must work in some way or the family won’t eat. They’re not working so much as making a contribution to the family, our companion says. The families have no choice; they can’t afford otherwise.
It’s a concept the West doesn’t always understand, but our guest reminds us that European kids used to work in the potato fields until families and countries grew rich enough to decide child labor was not right. When everyone had enough money, they said, “OK, no more children working now.”
We talk on into the night, nibbling our crab, filling our bellies long after the other customers have left. We are the last remaining, as waitresses wipe tables and stack the plastic chairs atop each other. The family owners, dressed in pajamas, watch TV in the back corner. And when we finish our meal, they bid farewell with big, genuine smiles. It is Khmer seafood at its best.
We’re at the Sea Dragon restaurant in Sihanoukville, just a few feet from the South China Sea. The waves lap against sand, and little kids pass through the restaurant, selling bracelets. That’s their job. Dozens of them do it every day, every night, making money for their parents to buy food, pay rent or send the kids to school.
Tonight we meet Mao, 12, and Rien, 7. They chat with us for several minutes until our crab comes — a big, succulent crab, broken and fried in lemongrass and red curry spices with whole garlic cloves, onion and green pepper. Then comes the grilled fish with lime and meric (among the world’s best black pepper, grown in Kampot province). Mao taps his brother on the shoulder and motions for them to leave. “Their food is here,” Mao says. He doesn’t want to disturb our dinner.
But their story has already marked our dinner because I eat that crab and fish and think of how Mao and Rien work each night until they’ve sold $5 worth of bracelets (10 in all). And if they go home empty, Rien says, their mother hits them. He makes a fist and points it at his jaw, for emphasis.
This is not an unusual story. We’ve heard it time and again.
When we finish the crab, the boys pass by to say good night. We stop them to ask more questions. They no longer go to school, but Mao doesn’t remember when he stopped. They work every day and will return to the beach tomorrow morning at 9 or 10. Their mother drives them on a moto from spot to spot, so they can hit as many tourists as possible in one day.
We tell the boys to take our dessert, a plate of pineapple and banana, and they look around like they’re sneaking something they shouldn’t. When Jerry says it’s OK, they can take the whole plate, they quickly sweep the fruit into their shirts and rush away.
“Wait!” I have one more question.
They return to the table.
“Did you eat dinner yet?” It’s nearly 9 p.m.
“No,” they answer in unison, then clasp their hands in a Buddhist sompea. Thank you, thank you, they say before vanishing into the salty nighttime air.
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Welcome to my ramblings on food, drink, travel, politics, history and all the other avenues that converge in life. I’m a journalist, author and media trainer; and for five years I was Gourmet's Asia correspondent until the magazine's recent closure. I’m a bit obsessive in the kitchen. Much like my mother, I start thinking about dinner well before breakfast….
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