I was never a fan of tasteless American instant noodles—the ridiculously cheap ones called Maruchan Ramen that give legit Japanese ramen a bad name. In college I always resorted to Easy Mac for a quick meal over Ramen.
I was never a fan of tasteless American instant noodles—the ridiculously cheap ones called Maruchan Ramen that give legit Japanese ramen a bad name. In college I always resorted to Easy Mac for a quick meal over Ramen.
Dom and I on one of our first dates in Thailand. He asked me if I had eaten yet. I said no. He fixed that.
Dom called me during his lunch break the other day. After saying hi we both started to say the same time in Thai, “Have you eaten yet? What did you eat?” Continue Reading
Sorry about the lack of recent posts. I’ve been spending precious time with these two Thai men below, the little one has kept me especially busy. Continue Reading
Thai-Foodie’s newest sous chef arrived on Monday, September 24, at 10:04p.m., weighing in at 6.4 pounds and 20.5 inches—Rocco Felipe Pengjad. Continue Reading
It hit me about a week ago that I’m pregnant. Last week I was 35 out of hopefully 40 weeks of pregnancy—took me awhile to catch on.
Last Monday I pulled my hip running my usual run. It now hurts to walk, so I officially waddle like a hardcore pregnant woman. And I have a chest cold, so whenever I laugh it sounds like I’m a smoker with rattley lungs. Continue Reading
A couple from our church had a precious baby boy about a month ago, so we signed up on the Care Calendar to bring them a much-needed meal. Continue Reading
Dom told me when he was a kiddo in primary school he took a stupid class.
In the class he learned how to cut fruit into flowers, which is popular in Thailand. I thought that sounded like an awesome class. But no, he said it was stupid because cutting fruit into flowers is a “girl’s job”. Continue Reading
Dom grew up in Sukhothai, Thailand. He was an adorable, skinny Thai kiddo with beautiful carmel colored skin and cute ears that stuck straight off his head.
Often he would wake up to the sound of his yaa (grandma) bok bok-ing garlic and chiles. The smell would rouse him from his dreams of finally getting to level 12 on the game he had played the night before at his town’s Internet cafe.
Continue Reading
Bok, bok, bok!
I love the sound my red wooden mortar and pestle (krog saak) makes as I smash garlic and chiles while breathing in their intoxicating aroma.
