Copyright 2013 by Andy Ricker
Photographs copyright 2013 by Austin Bush
Front cover photograph 2013 by Eric Wolfinger
Foreword 2013 by David Thompson
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ten Speed Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.crownpublishing.com
www.tenspeed.com
Ten Speed Press and the Ten Speed Press colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ricker, Andy.
Pok Pok : food and stories from the streets, homes, and roadside restaurants of Thailand / Andy Ricker with JJ Goode ; [foreword by] David Thompson.
pages cm
1. Cooking, Thai. I. Goode, JJ II. Title.
TX724.5.T5R53 2013
641.9593dc23
2013012451
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-60774-288-3
eBook ISBN: 978-1-60774-289-0
Photo look and color by Adam Levey
v3.1_r1
contents
foreword
by David Thompson
One more plate of laap please, Andy, was my plea. I needed more. I had just finished a plate of this Northern Thai dish of chopped meat (pork, in this instance) mixed with spices and herbs. I have eaten laap many times beforeit is a regional classic. However, this rendition was irresistible. The minced pork was rich and smoky, the spices bitter and tangy, the herbs enticingly aromatic. The combination of all these flavors left a wonderful taste that lingered long after Id finished my last bite. I simply just had to order a second plate.
I confess I was surprised by how good it was; really, it had no right to be so delicious. After all, I was sitting in Portland, Oregona far, far cry from Chiang Mai, the Northern Thai city that is this dishs home.
I guess I shouldnt have been astonished. Andy may have opened his first Pok Pok restaurant in Portland, but the food he cooks has deep roots in Thailand. It might seem strange that this six-foot-tall Vermonter is cooking Northern Thai food so well, until you understand Andys love for the Thais, their cuisine, and in particular the hazy mountainous province of Chiang Mai. Andy makes regular visits to Thailand, where he trawls the marketswatching, asking questions, and collecting recipes. He chats engagingly with local cooks, who share with him tips and techniquesbut he is also a keen observer, and gets ideas and knowledge from furtively watching other, unsuspecting cooks. Either way, by whatever means, Andy gets the goods.
Whenever Andy comes to Thailand, I see him in Bangkok, where I live, and occasionally we travel together up-country. Accompanying Andy as he pursues his culinary quarry can be exhausting. He moves quickly from shop to shop, market to market, or village to village with nary a regard for his fellow travelers. He walks past the stalls that dont pass muster, refusing to stop, while those of us in his wake bleat plaintively, wanting to eat, looking longingly at dishes he dismisses and leaves untouched. Mr. Ricker demands the best and thus he commands my respect, even if I do often end up hungry, tired, and sulky.
Andy has turned his not being Thai into an advantage. He is not limited by an inherent belief, as many Thais are, that his mothers is the best and the only way to cook. His approach is much broader and more encompassing; he casts his culinary net wider, across all of Northern Thailand and its verdant and fertile fields.
Andy first backpacked through Asia and landed in Thailand in 1987, around the time I was making those same laps. I am surprised I didnt run into him. Although, given the similarity of our quests, our mutual love for Thailand, and our crazy partying ways, its quite possible we did.
Andys moment of culinary epiphany came over a mushroom. Mine was over a serpent head fish, clearly demonstrating that we cant choose our moments. The objects of our inspirationsome fungi and a fish, respectivelymight seem silly, but in the end, they prompted both of us to change the course of our lives, including how we eat and cook.
I still recall that sour orange curry of serpent head fish, tart with tamarind leaves, plump with flavor. The seasoning, tastes, and textures of that curry transformed my understanding of Thai food. From then on I was hooked.
I moved to Bangkok to learn about the citys remarkable cuisine, regal past, and sophisticated tastes, opening a few swank restaurants in the process. Meanwhile, Andy was researching up-country, eating his way through the north of Thailand. Later he opened the first Pok Pok restaurant in Portland on a maxed-out credit card, a mortgage, and with little capital. In the decade since then, he has established himself as an important voice in Thai cooking and an emissary of Northern Thai food internationally.
I remember working with Andy in both New York City and Portland and being amazed at his rather informal approach to cooking, kitchens, and restaurants. His very first restaurant was built out of his kitchen and partially demolished house, the food served through a window onto his porch and into the backyardmuch like some small countryside restaurant in Thailand. You see, I come from the dainty world of fine dining, where certain thingssuch as grilling over charcoal in smoky forty-four-gallon drums, backyard coconut pressing, drinking beer on the job out of glass jars, fermenting mustard greens on the roof, and more beer drinkingwere simply not done (unfortunately). But the casual appearance of Andys restaurants belies the rigorous, ambitious cooking that happens in his kitchens. He is obsessed with making the very best food he can. I admire the canny way he doctors his lime juice to approximate the taste of lime juice in Thailand, the resourceful way he finds and secures Thai produce, and his faithful adherence to Thai recipes, techniques, and tastes. The restaurants may not look terribly fancy, but inside, Andy and his Pok Pok crew are complete perfectionists, constantly adjusting and tinkering with their recipes to ensure everything is right.
Andy has almost singlehandedly created a market for regional Thai cuisine in the United States. Such food was practically unknown in the US before Pok Pok, but now, many of the dishes he cooks are the objects of cultlike devotion. For proof of his swashbuckling success, simply observe the lines that wind down the street outside of the Pok Pok restaurants. People clamor for his fooda style of cooking that they didnt know existed before 2005. One excellent example is that delectable pork laap , which was as lip-smackingly good as any version I have found in Thailand.
While eagerly waiting for my second plate, I looked across our tablewith its now-empty plates of grilled sausages, noodle salads, soups, curries, and chili dipsto the other tables of equally replete and happy diners. I couldnt help but wonder, what would this damned skillful cook do next?
Well, youre now holding Andys latest project: the Pok Pok cookbook. In it, Andy chronicles Chiang Mais wide-ranging culinary repertoireincluding my longed-for pork laap , a sour orange curry quite similar to the one that first enthralled me so many years ago, and many other Northern dishes. This book is the product of years and years of research, practice, and experience, and clearly demonstrates why Andy and Pok Pok are so successful: great food; honest, practical advice and guidance; and a sincere desire to please without compromising the integrity of the cuisine. Its a winning recipe.