In Search of the Perfect Laab in Laos

November 25, 2011

Dear Friends,

Laab (also written ‘larb’) is a dish originating in Laos that has become a staple of menus across Thailand.  Its name means “luck” and this dish is a frequent star at the table during festivals and special occasions. It also makes the perfect gift for guests, conveying your good wishes along with some fresh sustenance all on one plate.

Some Laab Ingredients: Mint, cilantro, shallots

To me and my family, laab is a perennial favorite. Loving simple, speedy Southeast Asian cuisine, I became enamored of Thai dishes long ago.  My children, at very young ages, when asked their favorite foods, would cite “pizza, peanut butter and laab,” raising quizzical eyebrows on inquiring adults.  To this day, turning to the laab page in my Thai recipe book, the tell-tale scribbles of my two-year-old daughter (who is now 14) attest to this dish’s place in my family history.

So finding myself in Laos recently in the company of my colleague, Chris Roper, who shares my culinary interests, we decided to go on a pilgrimage to find the best laab. In Luang Prabang, we settled into the lovely Bamboo Garden restaurant, by the fountain, and ordered Laab Gai, the chicken version.  It arrived with a garnish of cucumber and cabbage, and young, delicate sprigs of cilantro and mint. The usual seasonings of fish sauce (usually squid) and lime juice were subtle, with scallions and cilantro dominating, textured by the barely perceptible crunch of roasted rice powder.  The spice was very tame, and Chris and I felt a little disappointed.  Very good, but this laab had not reached full potential.

A monk in Luang Prabang prepares a spicy green papaya salad

We moved on to a place recommended to us by our Lao guide, Mr. Kamh. He claimed it was the best laab in town.  Skeptically, we claimed a two-top at “Pizza Luang Prabang.”  A two-tiered terrace of exterior tables camouflaged an unattractive interior, where plastic-covered tables, a linoleum floor and kitschy decorations made me question our choice.  Two Italian men chattered away next to us, enjoying a smoke after their LP Pizza.  We ordered our laab—beef this time–and some Lao coffee.

When the waiter placed the dish on the table, we leaned in to inspect it.  Interesting: this time we saw unexpected ingredients.  Baby bean sprouts and thinly sliced lemon grass added texture and citrus to the overall freshness of this lucky Lao salad.  The rice powder was also more prevalent, adding a nutty undertone that was very pleasing. Again the lime and fish sauce were subtle, almost after-thoughts.   And there was another ingredient that was hard to identify, a barely discernible vegetable.  Again the spice level was low, and for us, spice addicts, a bit disappointing. Nonetheless, we agreed this laab won over the Bamboo Garden’s.

Our third laab tasting was compliments of Mr. Tie (pronounced “tee”), our chef on the Mekong Sun, a lovely little ship that travels from Luang Prabang to the Golden Triangle. Mr. Tie is a baby-faced 26-year-old who has been cooking since he was a teen.  He clearly loves his craft and puts his heart into every dish. He provided a full cooking demonstration for all the passengers, revealing a few aspects of preparation that were new to me.  For example, he added fish sauce as seasoning to the chicken before cooking it in the pan.  He not only added fried shallots but also fresh ones. He taught us how to roast our own rice: with lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves—in a dry pan.  Then the browned rice is transferred to a mortar and pounded into a powder (I buy small packets of rice powder at home, saving at least 30 minutes!). Then he revealed the secret ingredient I could not identify in Luang Prabang: raw yard-long beans, sliced into tiny rounds.  This addition adds a whole new, greener dimension to laab.

Mr. Tie's ingredients are laid out for laab gai preparation

Mr. Tie’s laab was very similar to Luang Prabang Pizza’s—excellent in its freshness and crunch.  Again, I would add more lime juice and chili powder, but this is a personal preference.

My time is Laos is a gift I am not soon to forget, and laab is one lucky way I can continue to keep a little piece of Laos in my life and in my heart.  For all those who dream of going to Laos, I present you with a recipe that I hope will bring you the good fortune of one day seeing this magnificent country.

Larb Nua (Beef Larb)

1 lb beef, minced or ground

2 cloves of garlic, chopped

1-3 red chili(s), chopped (spice level according to taste, of course)

1 tbsp chopped shallots

2 tbsp Thai basil, chopped (can replace with coriander, if you prefer)

2 tbsp mint, chopped

1 tbsp roasted rice powder

1 tbsp spring onion, chopped

1-2 tbsp of Nuoc Mam or fish sauce, to taste

Juice of 2-3 limes (taste and see if you like it with more citrus!)

2 hothouse cucumbers, sliced lengthwise and seeded, cut into 6 inch “boats” OR iceberg lettuce leaves

Hot peppers dry in a village along the Upper Mekong

Variations Seen in Laos:

-         Add fresh bean sprouts

-         Add chopped yard-long green beans

-         Add chopped lemon grass

Fry the beef in a wok or large frying pan, without oil, until browned and cooked through. Leave to cool.

Lightly brown the garlic, chili and shallot in a pan over medium heat, again without oil. Pound them together then mix this paste with the meat.  Stir in the fish sauce, lime juice, rice powder. Toss in the Thai basil, mint and scallions and stir. Serve at room temperature.

Prepare the cucumber “boats” and/or separate the iceberg lettuce leaves and place in dish for serving.  Laab is then spooned into the cucumber boats (my children’s favorite!) or wrapped in the lettuce leaves.

Sóen Sâep!

Wishing you Luck and Happiness with a fresh plate of laab gai!

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A Lao Village Along the Mekong

November 4, 2011

Boy plays and swims around boat docked on Mekong beach

The splashing of water lures me out to my stern balcony. They must be diving under the ship to fix the faulty propeller, I think. As I lean over the edge of the railing, I discover I am wrong: four Lao children are swimming gleefully around the boat on a competitive circuit, the weakest swimmer ending up dangerously swept downriver by the strong Mekong current before grasping the stern of a longtail boat docked nearby.  He struggles hard to keep up and eventually disappears with the others upstream again.

The Mekong Sun, our ship

The clean, sandy beach where we have docked for repairs presents cameos of life along this mighty Indochinese river.  A woman in a straw hat busily plants her vegetable seedlings, while keeping an eye on her nearby toddler, who happily digs her own holes.  Another woman waters her sandy field, and scolds children who come too near as they practice their somersaults, cartwheels and handstands. Three children emerge from the water and run to join the gymnastic group, one of the littlest pausing to remove her chafing, sandy underwear and continue on unimpeded.

From the beach, one of the crew beckons me to join them. He and a group of passengers seem to be heading inland. Clearly, the
repairs are going to take a while.  Within minutes, I emerge on the wide, sandy expanse, impressed by how the muddy Mekong, during the drier season, can sport beaches to compete with the seaside resorts of the world. Our small group climbs the dunes into the jungle to discover wooden pens containing healthy piglets, sows and ducks.  A few more steps upward, and the stilted
thatched traditional Lao homes emerge, neatly arranged along a main artery parallel to the Mekong.  Hearing giggles
behind me, I turn just in time to see two naked boys of seven or eight years rushing past, wet clothes in hand.  They grin at me unabashed, then stop at a clothesline up ahead and neatly lay out their shorts and shirts to dry, disappearing into their home.

Children in Khokphu Village, Laos

Every adult and child we encounter smiles broadly and the traditional greeting echoes throughout the village “Sabaidee!”  Hens and chicks scuttle under a home, two pot-bellied pigs squeal their way under a fence and trot past us, ducks of all kinds paddle around a small central pond, and random dogs and kittens sun themselves on ledges and in doorways.  Mothers wearing the intricately woven sarong skirts lean in doorways with babies on their hips, and occasionally call out to older children, perhaps admonishing them to behave. Giddy children follow our progress, as we tour their empty new school (it’s Friday afternoon), complete with five classrooms, desks and blackboards.  The villagers saved for years to buy the construction materials to build this school, and now they are able to educate not only their little ones but also several other nearby villages’. Neatly piled bricks, wood, and bags of cement under eaves suggest that another construction project may be under way soon.

Heading to the top of the village, at the highest point, we come upon a temple, home to a handful of monks.  A boy of eight or so in a saffron robe is busy sweeping the large fallen teak leaves and debris from around the temple grounds.  An old monk
and his young apprentices sit idly under a thatched pavilion, talking and relaxing.  Saffron robes catch the saturated rays of sun on a clothesline behind the temple. Marigolds, Helliconia, and Crown of Thorn flowers abound, adding even more color and a sense of paradise to this elevated, peaceful scene above the Mekong.

A young monk tends to the grounds of his temple, Khokphu village, Laos

As we come back down through the village on our way back to our boat, an old woman with high cheek bones and twinkling eyes strolls past elegantly, clothed in a woven Lao skirt and simple shirt, with a towel regally wrapped around her head.  “Sabaidee!” she repeats again and again, smiling at each of us toothlessly.  Something about her makes me wonder if she dressed up just for us.

View from Mekong Sun deck

Returning to the Mekong Sun, our floating home, I return to the orchid-ringed sun deck and take in the soft light of the waning sun on the river.  The breeze is fresh and I marvel at how this major waterway and South East Asian lifeline can be so clean and smell so sweet in the Pacific Century.  It can’t last for long, I fear.  The Chinese and Thai have many dams planned in the next decade, and the industry that is so absent now will arrive, no doubt marring the beauty of this land and spoiling the purity of these waters. I only hope that the happiness and serenity of Khokphu village and many others along the river’s edge will survive the inevitable development ahead.

The Mekong at Dawn

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Language: More than a Practical Portal

February 22, 2010

 

Dear Friends,

One of the greatest human urges is to communicate. At an early stage, our toddlers demonstrate the frustration they feel when their meaning or intents are not understood for lack of language skills—sippy cups are thrown to the floor; food is flung from the high chair.  The message is clear: we want to be understood!

So no wonder language, as every human being’s most expedient expression, conveys personalities, cultures, nuances and fundamental values the world over.

As many of you know, Academic Travel Abroad, Inc. is not only an educational travel company; it is also a study abroad organization.  We currently send approximately 1,000 US college students overseas every year to study in China, the Czech Republic, Italy, Spain and Vietnam (and as of this summer, Japan and Syria!) on our CET Academic Programs (www.cetacademicprograms.com).

 CET’s education abroad philosophy is rooted in the value of cultural and language immersion.  It is clear speaking to anyone who has ever lived or studied abroad that immersion—a real break with one’s own cultural environment, contacts and language—brings understanding and broadens horizons. 

So while beginning the learning process early and undertaking a serious commitment to foreign language study is ideal in order to transcend cultural barriers, I firmly believe that the process is valuable at any age and at any level of engagement. 

Embarking on a trip to a foreign land, few dispute the value of picking up a phrase book before departure.  This is a practical step. Yet how many view a look at the language of the destination as an essential part of their introduction to that culture?  As important as the study of the country’s history, society, art, and politics is, a basic introduction to the language can teach us so much.

For example, few written languages paint pictures and convey cultural lessons as plainly as Chinese.  Some characters are logical, with the stone radical associating with hard, strong, fundamental concepts, the heart radical expressing feelings, and the hand radical describing actions and gestures.  Yet other characters betray social preconceptions: peace is a woman under a roof; home is a pig under a roof, precious is jade under a roof… And a woman with a son is just plain good.  It doesn’t take long to realize the rich cultural lessons hidden in every pictogram.

Then there’s French. How many nations boast an Académie Française dating to the 17th century in which “immortals” rule on all matters pertaining to the glory of the language?  Here is a culture that drills its young with daily “dictées” of complex paragraphs to test the subject-verb accords, feminin-masculin mastery and subjunctive conjugations, in addition to requiring excruciating “explication de textes”—pulling apart and analyzing a text, word by word, line by line.  So whether you master the classic lines like plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose (‘the more things change, the more they stay the same”) or the common exclamation ça va pas, non?! (“You are not well, are you?!”), some dabbling in French is not only fun but can reveal much about this rich culture.

On a recent business trip to Japan, I had the good fortune to be accompanied by two fluent Japanese speakers.  On the plane ride over, I asked that they review the basics of polite Japanese phrases for me: from dozo and arigato gozaimashita, to an often-used phrase—dozo yorushuku onegai shimasu.  The latter was translated for me as “please forgive me for any trouble I will ever cause you.” It’s a mouthful, and it’s spoken very rapidly by native speakers, but it is used constantly. To me, it revealed much about the culture I was about to visit. The extreme politesse and consideration the Japanese extend to each other are ubiquitous.

I still remember the delight one of my China travelers expressed when a phrase I had taught her had the desired effect—a smile and a grateful nod from a proud Chinese mother.  “Hen ke ai!”  this American traveler had said, admiring a toddler with rosy cheeks in Shanghai.  “Very cute!”

So next time you’re heading abroad, I encourage you to look at the language as more than a practical portal, but as a window onto greater cultural understanding and meaningful interaction.  As few as three syllables can make the difference between being a passive observer and being an active participant in your discovery of the world.

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The Beauty of Group Travel

December 2, 2009

A Brass Door Knob, Forbidden City, Beijing

Dear Friends,

It’s been a while since my last post.  The fall was busy and marked by a trip to China in October that will go down in my mind as one of the greatest group travel experiences ever. This National Geographic journey started in Beijing and wove its way south through Xi’an, Chongqing, the Yangzi River, the Three Gorges Dam, ending in pulsating Shanghai.  In reflecting on the success of this experience, I concluded that my 23 travelers encountered group travel at its very best and here’s why:

1. Their Openness:  Marcel Proust is known to have said “The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” Throughout our time in China, each and every traveler demonstrated a willingness to see through the eyes of others or even to expand their way of thinking in ways that were unfamiliar to them.

2. Their Sense of Community:  From the very first day in Beijing, our group showed respect and care for each other, exchanging personal thoughts and experiences, maintaining punctuality, watching out for each other in crowds, resetting a bike chain during a circumnavigation of the City Wall in Xi’an, lending a sweater when the weather turned cold in Shanghai, and empathizing when someone’s personal belongings went missing in Yichang.  During breakfasts and free meals, I observed different travelers joining each other at different times, developing new friendships and learning from one another.  Couples welcomed single travelers within their midst, and no group was exclusive.

VIP Access to the Terra Cotta Army

3. Their Cultural Sensitivity:   No aspect of Chinese culture went unappreciated on this trip.  Each traveler expressed awe, curiosity, and genuine respect for all our itinerary presented.  From the serenity of the Confucian Temple in Beijing and the Great Mosque in Xi’an to the animated hacky sack players at the Temple of Heaven and the charming, erudite Mr. Wang ( former Chief Engineer of the Three Gorges Dam Project), our group members captured 100% of each significant moment and encounter.

4. Their Joie de Vivre:  I marveled at the personal stories behind each traveler and how they came to choose a trip to China. Many had overcome sadness and challenges in the year or so before the trip, and despite these (or perhaps because of these), they launched themselves into China with a verve and appreciation for life that was heartening.  Their perspective helped them enjoy themselves to the fullest.

A kindergartener waves her pom at us in Fengdu

5. The Authenticity of the Experience:  A group of individuals this genuine deserves the most authentic and truest of experiences.  I am proud to say National Geographic Expeditions delivered on this promise.  We were the only foreigners to visit Panjiayuan (a Beijing flea market), the only foreigners to eat in many of the local restaurants selected, to gain VIP access to the Terra-Cotta Army Museum, to hear an exclusive briefing by the dedicated Director of Foreign Relations at the Great Mosque in Xi’an, to enter the restricted visitor center led by a senior engineer at the Three Gorges Dam Project, and to play jump rope with kindergartners  and sing songs with retirees in Fengdu.  And all these authentic experiences were augmented by the superb lectures and refined expertise of our Expert, Ken Hammond.

Without a doubt, my fellow travelers on this trip enriched a well-planned, educational itinerary by applying the very best principles of group travel.  With their important contributions, I would venture to say we achieved perfection, a rare and beautiful thing in the world of travel.  I am forever indebted to them.

Kate Simpson

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Kate Simpson on the Smithsonian Journeys blog

July 6, 2009

Below is the latest blog from Kate Simpson, President of Academic Travel Abroad as seen on the
Smithsonian Journeys blog page:

China: Understanding Etiquette

July 1st, 2009 by Kate Simpson

Kate Simpson is President of Academic Travel Abroad, where she began her career as a China Program Manager in 1998 after completing a degree in East Asian Studies from Yale and a post-graduate fellowship in Chinese literature. Kate loves to travel to hidden corners of the countries she loves most, like Haute Savoie in alpine France or the Ming villages near Huangshan in China. Click here for more on Kate.

A James Cox gilded birdcage clock in the Forbidden City's Hall of Clocks and Watches, Beijing. Photo: Flickr gruntzooki.

A James Cox gilded birdcage clock in the Forbidden City's Hall of Clocks and Watches, Beijing. Photo: Flickr gruntzooki.

I always chuckle when I visit the Hall of Clocks and Watches in Beijing’s Forbidden City, which features gifts to Chinese emperors presented by foreign envoys. In Mandarin Chinese, the words “give a clock” (song zhong) can also mean “sending one to one’s end.” For this reason, traditionally, clocks and time pieces are not considered the best choices as gifts for Chinese friends. Diplomacy without language comprehension or an understanding of proper etiquette can pose challenges!

As a student of China, I loved using the Mandarin skills I had to navigate cultural differences with Chinese counterparts. However, language alone doesn’t always help. As with all cultures, body language, actions, and rituals convey more information than words alone. And when it comes to eating and drinking, the Chinese are emperors of protocol! Certainly, formal banquets are different from a casual meal with friends, but generally, here are some tips that help me keep my relations with the Chinese untainted by faux pas:

• At a banquet, hosts and guests have very clearly defined places at the (usually) round table. The host always sits in the seat facing the door. His or her guest of honor sits to his or her left. To the host’s right, the next important guest is seated (or the interpreter if there is a need).

• If toasts begin, make sure to lift your glass so that it touches below the rim of the person’s with whom you are toasting. This is a sign of respect.

• If you have had enough to drink and your hosts are insisting on another “gan bei” (dry your glass: a shot), say the two words “sui yi” (as you wish) and take a modest sip. This is usually something women can get away with more easily than men and it indicates that they respectfully decline to down their glass.

• Always leave something on your plate to indicate you have plenty to eat. Make it clear that you consider the meal very ample. This gives your host “face.”

• If the dinner is not a banquet, when the bill comes, it is customary to fight noisily over it with the other party, and let the party who did not pay for your last meal together pick up the tab eventually. But you need to put on a good show of it! This play-acting takes place regularly in Chinese restaurants across the world. You’ll know it’s your turn after the next meal—and fight.

• When your guest leaves the banquet hall or restaurant, the host should walk them out to the door, often repeating “man zou, man zou” (go slowly).

Many of the more traditional protocols are fading with China’s more relaxed approach to relations with foreigners. However, erring on the side of formality is never a problem in a country whose pride in its heritage and traditions runs deep.

Now that you know, try these tips for yourself. Click here for travel to China.


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China: Build it, and we will come. Complete it, and we can go elsewhere?

March 27, 2009

Dear Friends,

 

It seems like an eternity ago when I was a young China program manager for ATA and spent my time running tours with titles like “Decorative Arts of China,” “To The Edges of the Empire,” and “History through the Dynasties.”  That was back in the 1980s, before Tiananmen Square took place.

 

Two years went by and ATA had no China tour business whatsoever.  Americans felt strongly about what had happened on June 4, 1989, and expressed their outrage by turning their travel interests elsewhere.  Then slowly, travel to China began again, and soon, Li Peng announced in 1992 at the National People’s Congress that the Chinese government was going to build the largest hydroelectric dam in the world on the Yangtze River.

 

It didn’t take long for the China National Tourism Office to apply this news to a brilliant new marketing campaign: “Come to China and see the Three Gorges before they disappear!”  Few promotions indicated that the project would not be completed until 2009—a mere 17 years later.  The buzz spread like wildfire—cruising the Yangtze River before the landscape changed forever became a top priority for Americans traveling to China.  In fact, this keen interest eclipsed all other destinations within China.  The Yangtze River sucked most American tourists away from many of the traditional cities and towns, and took them up and down the roiling waters between Chongqing and Yichang.  No more visits to Qufu, Confucius’ home town; to Jingdezhen, where the kilns of ancient dynasties produced so many ceramic masterpieces; to Huangshan’s misty peaks and the surrounding Ming Dynasty villages; to Kunming and its lush tropical climate and rice paddy fields; to Kashgar and its intriguing history at the crossroads of the Silk Road; to Xishuangbanna and its colorful Water-Splashing Festival, and even to Hong Kong, whose glamor unjustifiably diminished after 1997.

 

So here we are: it’s 2009 and the Three Gorges Dam is essentially completed (2011 is when it is expected to be fully operational).  The water level has risen to its maximum anticipated level of 175 meters above sea level (574 feet).  Goddess Peak in Wu Gorge now stands less lofty; some Ba hanging coffins (believed to be 2500 years old) are now submerged; the reservoir is full; the roiling, muddy waters have calmed; and the Yangtze River sturgeon continues to fight for its life.  The river is still a fascinating place and shall remain so throughout time. But I think it’s time for a change…

 

Without diminishing the interest the Yangtze River holds, I urge American travelers to venture off the beaten path of the past 17 years and explore the rest of this magnificent country!  There are wonders to behold in China that have long been neglected by our compatriots.  Go, discover a China beyond the Yangtze.

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