Pad krapow in all its guises reminds me of my childhood home in Bangkok. My parents had a thing about not eating Thai food in the evening – odd, but true. So my welcome-home dinner whenever I was back from boarding school would always be roast chicken. But lunch the next day would always be pad krapow served on top of fragrant steaming jasmine rice, and a perfectly cooked egg. The aniseed aroma of the holy basil, the nose-tingling chillies and garlic: this dish just spelt home. And to this day, when I feel low or sad or just plain pissed off, I make this and it makes all the gloom slip away.
As to other favourites, I used to run away on a fairly regular basis as a small child. I would pack my vanity case (remember them?) with a hair brush, “Baby” – my stuffed pillow friend – a clean pair of pants and off I would go. Telling my mother: “I am really going now. I am!” as she waved me through the front gate, knowing that I would only get as far as the little coffee shop or Laan Lek a block away. They stocked a particular biscuit called tua tort. A large disc of golden brown batter, salty and sweet, and studded with whole skin-on peanuts. They were about the size of my head and I could not resist them. Cut to 5 minutes later and Mum or Lune, my nanny, would find me happily munching one or two of these and whisk me back home…
The thing about Thailand is that there is food everywhere, all the time. Eating is a national pastime, to be shared, discussed and enjoyed. There is always another dish to be found. Even now, every trip back I discover something new. This past January, my discovery was aeb samong moo, a spiced, curried paste of pork and pig brains wrapped in banana leaf and grilled over glowing coals.
I still associate roast chicken with homecomings. When I met my husband, he felt the same. Now it’s what he makes me whenever I get back from any travels. We live in south-west London, in an upside-down, higgledy-piggledy place with a roof terrace that our friends call the “gingerbread house”. It’s full of pictures and beautiful things – I abide by that old William Morris adage of having only things I find beautiful and useful. Nothing is put away for special occasions. If I don’t use something, I get rid of it. On the third floor, we have an art deco bar, which opens up and lights up. It makes me clap my hands with glee! On the walls, there are framed old vinyl covers, vintage movie posters and lots of old advertising and packaging.
We’ve been in this house for 14 years, and have nothing done to it – it’s great as it is. When I’m away, what I miss most is sitting on the sofa, curled up with my husband and the dog. I also miss cooking. In Thailand, we always stay in serviced apartments or hotels, so there’s no chance of cooking. We like eating out, but love cooking. So coming home, to our kitchen, is a joy.
I grew up with so many animals, I can’t imagine not having any now. We have two cats – Hepburn and Wilcox – and a dog, Maya, a rescue from a brilliant charity called Serbia’s Forgotten Paws, which rescues and rehomes street dogs. The cats aren’t too pleased with the dog, but there is an entente cordiale at the moment – they put up with her.
The house I grew up in was a typical mid-century modern – white and fairly geometric, with slatted teak partitions between rooms, a lovely garden and a field next door which, in the early days, housed a herd of buffalo.
My childhood was glorious – I was a chubby wee thing due to the sheer amount of meals I’d eat — first in the indoor kitchen for western breakfast, then trotting to the outside kitchen – complete with white tiled counters and the dancing flames of the charcoal burners – for Thai breakfast. Like a hobbit, really, without the hairy feet.
When I left for boarding school, I missed Bangkok a lot. I missed the food – can you imagine my poor Anglo‑Thai heart almost audibly breaking when the promised curry night saw me presented with a plate of grey brown mince with a hint of stale Madras powder, studded with raisins? The horror! I missed the warmth, not having to wear shoes, and all the animals. I missed sitting around the dining table en famille and slurping noodles. I missed the cacophony and the smells of the morning market. Home was Bangkok, and Bangkok was all these things.
Now, my husband and I like to sit at the table in the kitchen, with a bottle of wine, and have a chat. We don’t have candles – we’re incredibly clumsy. We’ll have the lights dimmed, and music on, which we always argue about. Fred would have music on 24 hours a day, whereas I need more quiet. Right now, we’re both obsessed with the soundtrack from Nashville (I’m on a bit of a country music jag) and Rag‘n’Bone Man’s album Human. One of us will cook. The cats will swarm, the dog will fight with her blanket. And all is well.
Pad krapow moo
This is my ultimate Thai comfort food. Hot, fragrant and delicious. You can substitute the pork with beef, duck, chicken, tofu, rabbit, wild mushrooms ... Up to you! But make sure you serve it on a pile of freshly cooked jasmine rice topped with a deep-fried egg. If you can’t find the Thai holy basil you can use Thai sweet basil or regular Italian basil.
Serves 2
6 garlic cloves, peeled
6 bird’s eye chillies
1 large red chilli, cut into chunks
A pinch of sea salt
1 tbsp sweet soy sauce
1 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp fish sauce
1–2 tbsp water
A pinch of sugar
2 tbsp vegetable oil
300g pork, minced or roughly hand-chopped
100g green beans, topped, tailed and cut into 1cm pieces
1 large handful of picked bai krapow, or holy basil leaves – the more the merrier
For the eggs
2 eggs
Vegetable oil, for deep frying
1 In a pestle and mortar, pound the garlic, chillies and salt together into a rough paste, and set aside.
2 Now mix the soy sauces, fish sauce and 1 tbsp of the water together in a small bowl, and stir in the sugar to dissolve.
3 Heat the oil in a wok until it’s really hot. Throw in the chilli-garlic paste and stir-fry for a few seconds, until you can smell everything in the pan, but not long enough to colour the garlic. Be careful as it will make your eyes water. Now, add the pork and stir-fry until it’s cooked through. Add the green beans, and stir-fry.
4 Add the soy and fish sauce mixture and stir through, allowing it to bubble up before adding nearly all the basil and wilting it into the dish.
5 Serve over steamed jasmine rice, with the remaining basil leaves scattered on top.
6 For the eggs, heat about 2–4cm depth of vegetable oil in another wok and, when it’s super-hot, crack in an egg. Fry until the white is crispy on the outside, and the yolk running within – it should take about 1 minute. Drain, and serve on top of your pad krapow and rice.
- Kay Plunkett-Hogge is a food writer and broadcaster. Her latest book, Adventures of a Terribly Greedy Girl, is out now on Mitchell Beazley; kaycooks.com
