Thailand & Sri Lanka: Curries 101
I felt a little crazy when I first typed “Does a curry have curry in it?” into Google.
I was sitting in a breezy Chiang Mai coffee shop, a pile of recipe notes beside me, freshly emerged from one of the city’s famous cooking classes. I still reeked of garlic and kaffir lime, but I could find no evidence that curry itself had actually made an appearance.
A week earlier, my solo adventure in Thailand and Sri Lanka began with a jolt in hectic, congested, 90+ degree Bangkok.
It then took me on a winding overnight train journey north to Chiang Mai - foodie mecca of Southeast Asia - where the weather is cool and rainy and the pace is slow.
I’ve spent a few days exploring on foot and tuk tuk - eating any curry (and pretty much anything else) I can get my hands on - when it first dawns on me that a curry is not a dish but a whole genre of food.
Catfish head curry, random street stall, Bangkok
I’ve previously written about these kinds of ubiquitous foods: dumplings, for instance, a.k.a “Pockets of Starch Wrapped around a Filling.”
These literally exist everywhere, from Georgian soup dumplings to Cornish hand pies to Indian samosas to Lebanese sfeeha and on and on.
(It also makes me wonder what it is about the human psyche that drives us to wrap food around other food. But I digress.)
Dried shrimp!
Curries bear out this same universalist principle.
Sure, you can pinpoint the origins of the dish we know as a “curry” somewhere near modern-day India, several thousand years ago. And yes, sauces themselves are a pretty universal concept dating back to the vinegars and ferments of the first few centuries A.D. (I heard about this in a podcast, so it must be true.)
But like the Chinese noodles that traveled along the Silk Road, curries, too, have wandered the earth.
Today there are Jamaican curries and London curries. There are Malaysian curries and Detroit curries.
And in Thailand, there are pungent, lime-scented curries that apparently do not contain any actual curry.
At my vegetarian cooking school in Chiang Mai, May Kaidee, our teacher is a small, chipper Thai woman who’s not afraid to razz you a little. She quizzes us about ingredients and then makes fun of our answers. She teaches us slightly off-color cooking songs.
We cook and taste, cook and taste, until I think I’m going to be sick: Tom Yam soup, spring rolls, papaya salad, green and red curries, yellow massaman curry with peanuts, sweet blue sticky rice for dessert.
(Side note: Massaman curry does call for curry leaves. But I much prefer the pungent red variety that gets all its flavor from chilis, kaffir limes and coconut - the undisputed flavors of Thailand - and have included that recipe below.)
Papaya salad ingredients
Tourists visiting Chiang Mai would do well to explore the excellent night markets along the city’s ancient moat and fortress walls.
Chiang Mai was the capital of the hill tribe Lanna Kingdom before its incorporation into the Thonburi Kingdom, in 1775. Its temples are made of local teak wood, revered by the Lanna, and have an earthy, soulful quality that contrasts Bangkok’s more highfalutin wats.
For great eats, check out the charcoal-grilled whole tilapia at Lert Ros and the local noodle soup specialty, Khao Soi, which melds Burmese and Thai flavors into one spicy, brothy bowl.
(Khao Soi Khun Yai at the northern end of the moat, and Khao Soi Islam in the Muslim quarter, are widely considered the two best Khao Soi spots in town.)
Other Chiang Mai recommendations?
Well, you can get a pretty great Thai massage (more like a workout!) just about anywhere, but nothing rivals the one I had at Massage in the Garden in Bangkok.
If you have time, hire a red cab driver to take you out into northern Thailand’s lush back roads to hike around Doi Inthanon national park, or spend a day at one of the many hot springs in the area.
Wat Lok Moli, a teak wood temple in Chiang Mai
Street food! I did not eat any of these.
Chiang Mai’s moat
Dreamy noodles at Khao Soi Khun Yai
Next stop: Sri Lanka!
The former British Ceylon is a gorgeous little island full of tangled jungles, creaky colonial architecture and many of its own Buddhist temples.
These days it feels quite safe, but less than a decade ago an entire ethnic population in Sri Lanka was under attack, and guerrilla fighters claimed terrorist blasts on a regular basis.
Most of this violence took place in the north of the country, where its Tamil population is concentrated.
I would have liked to explore the north - closely linked to India by both religion and culture - but instead I decide to spend my very limited time on Sri Lanka’s south and west coasts.
I land in the capital, Colombo, after a two-hour flight. While Colombo is bustling, the vibe is different from Thailand: mellower, less dense, and blanketed under a thick blanket of tropical humidity.
I hire a taxi to drive me the 2 hours south along the coast to Galle, a 17th-century Dutch colonial town famous for its quaint cobble stones and its international cricket pitch.
Galle !
Colonial buildings are still everywhere in Galle, and the tuk tuks are colorful
Galle is an upscale tourist oasis (and a super charming one at that!) set amid rather hard-scrabble surroundings.
I stay at a lovely, artsy little B&B - Antic Guesthouse in the Old Dutch Fort neighborhood - a hangout for European expats, especially writers who came to attend Galle’s celebrated writer’s workshop and just stayed.
It’s a lazy and relaxed spot with terrific breakfasts that feature an excellent rendition of Sri Lanka’s ubiquitous egg dish, called a string hopper - a thin, crispy, bowl-shaped pancake with a fried egg perched at the bottom.
These are eaten dipped in a dazzling array of sides, including onion and chili relish, a lentil curry called Parippu and the spicy coconut condiment pol sambal.
(I’ve recreated some of these recipes and included them below.)
After breakfast, I set out by tuk tuk to find “Jungle Beach,” widely known to be one of the best spots to spend a day. It’s near a little town called Unawatuna, about 6 km from Galle, and another spot popular with tourists.
As we near Unawatuna, the tuk tuk splits off from the main road, heads up a gentle slope and deposits me at the top. From there, I begin to wind my way downhill towards the beach, which is almost completely obscured by curling vines and fronds and even little monkeys in the trees.
When the jungle clears, there appears, appropriately, a big beautiful beach.
I spend a few hours swimming and obsessively reapplying sunscreen, and then set out to explore some of Unawatuna’s backroads. The first stop is the weird but wonderful Rumassala Peace Pagoda, built by Japanese monks in 2005 as part of their effort to erect Buddhist shrines in war zones across Asia.
Then I wander the quiet, hilly roads connecting tiny local beach towns, greeting ladies working in their gardens or hanging up laundry. Finally, I emerge in Unawatuna itself.
Wandering around Unawatuna
If you’re staying in Galle or Unawatuna, you can very cheaply and easily take tuk tuks between them - and you probably should.
But I’m curious to see more of the main beachside thoroughfare connecting the two towns, which is buzzing with traffic and energy. It’s lined on the ocean side with handmade fishing boats and nets, and on the other with car part shops, petrol stations and bustling snackfood stalls.
This is not necessarily the Sri Lanka described recently by the New York Times travel section, but it teaches me a lot about where the country has been and where it’s going.
Along the way, I dodge motorbikes and buses and weave to avoid stepping into the sewage-steeped drains. I breathe in diesel fumes and try hard not to worry about it.
Based on the looks I get, a tourist making this walk is a rarity. Many tuk tuk drivers and other curious people - mostly men - approach me. One man walks alongside me, a little too close for comfort, for a good 15 minutes.
While I keep to myself and try to be polite, my solo female traveler antenna is alert and buzzing. Was this a good idea?
Ultimately, this long walk turns out like any other, pretty much anywhere in the world: Kinda tiring, but a good way to see what’s really going on.
There are people fishing and people selling fish. People fired from fishing jobs, people jilted by fisherman lovers. A woman is sobbing on a bench, being comforted by a friend - an instantly recognizable and heart-lurching scene.
I meet a young guy with a badly bandaged arm, who tells me he hurt it yesterday hauling a particularly big, and lucrative, catch. I encounter an old homeless man - squatting alone, barely wrapped in his lungi, and eating rice that keeps falling into his long beard - and I feel sad.
Walking this coastal road, I also stumble upon various little plaques and markers - which I can’t read - but which I later realize are tributes to whole communities that no longer exist.
This stretch of road was one of the spots hardest hit (in the single country hardest hit) by the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami. About 40,000 Sri Lankans were killed by a wall of water that day, many right here.
After that, it became rather fashionable for economists, scholars, historians and other observers to write about Sri Lanka’s resilience.
Rolling backward from the tsunami and the civil war, there was British colonialism - which only ended in 1948 - and the fits and starts of independence, leading, ultimately, to the socialist democratic republic in place today.
And even further back, before England turned the island into its own giant tea plantation, Sri Lanka was Dutch and, briefly, Portuguese.
Looking at Sri Lanka today, peaceful and stable and quite vibrant, it’s pretty amazing to consider all these invasions, crises, disasters and wars.
On my last night in Galle, I celebrate everything I’ve learned so far by eating the best curry in town at Lucky Fort Restaurant. I go out for fancy “silver tip” Ceylon-style tea on the balcony of the Old Dutch Hospital, which was built to house soldiers sick with the plague - and now hosts swanky jewelry stores and sushi joints.
Finally, I hoist my heavy backpack and begin the trip - via Sri Lanka’s celebrated, scenic railway - up the coast to my last stop, Beruwala.
Curry menu at Lucky Fort Restaurant
I spend my last three days in Sri Lanka exactly the way I dreamed I would: relaxed, pampered and right on the ocean.
Heritance is a posh spa/resort on a beautiful strip of private beach. It’s also a place where the ancient Indian medicine known as Ayurveda is taken quite seriously.
Upon arrival, I am immediately evaluated by a “doctor” who informs me that my dosha (body type) is a fiery pitta - with a badly out-of-whack vata, no less.
To remedy this, I’m instructed to eat specific foods, rest quietly and undergo daily “treatments.” These include oil massages, steam baths inside medieval wooden contraptions, yoga, meditation sessions and herbal pills and elixirs.
Like the other guests, I walk around dutifully in my marigold orange bathrobe, my hair tied up in a towel. We recline in the shade and speak in hushed tones. (There’s something reminiscent of an old-timey asylum or a sanitarium here, albeit a really nice one.)
It’s frankly a little woo-woo for my taste, but the staff is friendly, the food is delicious and the beach sky is magnificent - so who am I to argue? I gamely sit by the water for hours, journaling and thinking about life.
At last, my trip draws to a close.
I hoist my backpack one more time and head to the airport - and beyond it, home, with its crazy pace and sub-arctic temperatures. But my skin is tan, my breathing is deep, my hair is wild, and I’m ready.
Traveling always sets my head straight.
Visiting Thailand and Sri Lanka makes me want to take better care of my body and feel more of what we, in concrete Western places, sometimes forget to feel at all.
From curries to history to deep dives inward, this is what travel is all about.
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My beachfront view at Heritance Ayurveda, Beruwala
Temple swag
Bangkok streets
Women making fish sauce by hand, Bangkok
May Kaidee Cooking School, Chiang Mai
Sticky rice w/ banana and mango, colored w/ butterfly pea flower petals (not making that up)
Rainy market shopping, Chiang Mai
Grilled whole fish and fermented pork in banana leaves at Lert Ros, Chiang Mai
Galle !
Breakfast at Antic Guesthouse: String hopper, roti, lentils, pol sambal and more.
Jungle beach near Unawatuna
Coconut selfie!
Along the way - Unawatuna to Galle
Random fruit market
Tea time!
Colorful, vegetarian, ayurvedic grub
Thai Red Curry
INGREDIENTS
For the Chili Paste:
4 tbs fresh or rehydrated dried chilis, chopped (spiciness to taste)
2 tbs carrot, chopped
3 tbs garlic, minced
3 tbs red onion, chopped
10 tbs vegetable oil
3 tsp brown sugar
3 tsp lime juice
2 tbs soy sauce
For the Curry:
6 heaping tbs homemade chili paste (see ingredients above)
1 13-oz can unsweetened coconut milk (full fat, please)
4 fresh or dried kaffir lime leaves
2-inch strip lime peel
3-inch piece lemon grass stalk, outer part removed, then smashed with a knife
2-inch slice ginger, peeled, or Thai galangal root if available
2 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs vegetable oil
Kosher salt
3 cups mixed vegetables (bell peppers, broccoli, carrots, eggplant all work well)
1 cup fresh basil leaves, chopped
Rice, quinoa, etc. for serving
DIRECTIONS
1. Make the chili paste: Heat 10 tbs vegetable oil in a work on medium-high heat. Fry carrot, onion and garlic until softened, about 2 minutes. Add chili pepper and stir, frying for a scant 10 seconds (no more). Pour all contents into a blender and top with sugar, lime and soy sauce. Blend until smooth, about 30 seconds. Transfer to a small bowl and set aside.
2. In a large wok or skillet, heat 1 tbs vegetable oil over medium heat. Add mixed vegetables and stir to brown and soften, about 3 minutes.
3. Add 6 heaping tbs of your homemade chili paste (or more, if you want it spicier) on top of the vegetables. Stir to combine, about 30 seconds.
4. Add ginger, kaffir lime leaves, lime peel and lemon grass. Stir with vegetables, tossing until fragrant, about 1 minute.
5. Shake coconut milk and then open can, pouring directly over the vegetables. Stir well, scraping up any brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Make sure veggies are mostly submerged in sauce. Sprinkle with kosher salt to taste. Cover the pan with a lid and reduce heat to low, then simmer for 15 minutes or until vegetables are very tender and sauce is reduced.
6. Remove lid and stir well, then turn off heat. Adjust salt level if desired. Remove lemon grass, lime peel, lime leaves and ginger. Stir in chopped basil. Serve over rice or quinoa.
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Parippu Curry
(Sri Lankan Lentils)
INGREDIENTS
8 oz red lentils (masoor dal)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 yellow onions, chopped
½ tsp curry powder
¼ tsp saffron powder
½ tsp turmeric powder
½ tsp fenugreek seeds
1 tsp mustard seeds
½ tsp chili powder
¼ tsp cumin seeds (or ground cumin powder)
2 whole cloves
1 cup coconut milk
1 ¼ cup water
2 tbs vegetable oil
Juice of ½ lime
2 (or more, or less, as desired) hot green chilis, minced
Kosher salt
DIRECTIONS
1. Wash the lentils well, soaking and changing the water at least three times. Rinse in a colander.
2. Boil lentils in 1 ¼ cup water with the saffron, chili powder, turmeric, curry and cloves.
3. After about 15 minutes, when the color of the lentils has changed from red to yellow, remove them from heat and pour into a large bowl. Set aside.
4. Heat vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add mustard, fenugreek and cumin and fry for 20 seconds. Add the onion and garlic and fry another 20 seconds.
5. Add the boiled lentils and coconut milk, stir well. Bring to a boil and simmer for 15 minutes or until think and soupy, and until the lentils are very soft.
6. Remove from heat and adjust salt if needed. Add chopped chili and lime juice, stir well. Serve hot with rice or bread.
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BONUS: Pol Sambal (Coconut Condiment)
INGREDIENTS
8 oz desiccated, shredded coconut (unsweetened)
8 dried hot chilis
½ tsp salt
½ tsp white sugar
2 shallots, minced
½ tsp fish sauce or other fermented fish product
Juice of 1 lime
EQUIPMENT
One sturdy mortar and pestle
DIRECTIONS
1. In the mortar and pestle, smash and grind chilis w/ salt and sugar crystals, until a paste begins to form.
2. Begin to add handfuls of coconut flakes and pound them into the chili.
3. Add shallots, continue to grind all ingredients together into a paste.
4. Last, add fish sauce and lime juice. Continue to mix together until fully combined.
5. Serve with curries, rice dishes, Sri Lankan string hoppers, or anything really.
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