Dish highlights from Luang Prabang (Part 4)

"What's Lao food like?". "Did you eat just street food or at restaurants?". "What were your favourite dishes in Luang Prabang?"

Well, in summary...

Every Asian foodie worth their MSG can't resist the comforting clear broth of a noodle soup. Called Khao Soi, they are very much in the same style of Vietnamese Pho or Malaysian Kuey Teow Teng. Their noodles are a little springy-er than what we get in Malaysia, which I couldn't get enough of. And like us Malaysians, the Lao love to douse theirs with plenty of jeaow, or chilli.

One of the prettiest dishes I had was stuffed lemongrass, at Tamarind, one of the "sanitised" restaurants along the Nam Khan River. Like an oriental stuffed courgette, these immediately attractive skewers contained minced pork with herbs, to be dipped in a chilli, garlic, shallot, dried prawn, lime paste. The pork was perfectly infused with lemongrass, and my tongue tingled in a staccatoed Riverdance.

More like a lowlight, my foremost disappointment was a stodgy and tasteless Lao Style Sandwich which I was hoping to be more like the Banh Mi I found in Adelaide. Don't. Go. There!

The Lao are fond of their meats, we saw strings of local sausages made out of buffalo hung up like party celebrations at most eating joints in town. Unctuous and a tad too oily for me, I preferred these little Akha meatballs, coming from the Ahka hill tribe, in North Laos. Again very herby, and made with a little buffalo blood for depth of flavour.

To end on a sweet note, I was stunned at this precious tarte au poire at Le Cafe Ban Vat Sene. Located across from the Luang Prabang primary school (do you get the idea everything is very close to everything else?), the pastry from this tart crumbled like a sand castle and the sweet pear was at one with the frangipane inside.

Eating in Luang Prabang is inexpensive. Go to one of the fancier restaurants, and you're averaging about USD12 a head for about 3 shared dishes and a glass of wine. Eat on the streets and it's more like USD1.50 for a bowl of noodles. Life can be this good.

Luang Prabang Part 3: It was more like "Alley" Food

We hung around until dark, still on the main stretch of Sisavangvong (not out of boredom, this one road town was genuinely fascinating and charming), and this time went down another narrow alley. This one was to the left of the Ancient Luang Prabang Hotel, where a large table of various cakes and pastries were sold throughout the day. We skipped the cakes, and ventured down this path full of buzz, colours, more inelegant sweatiness, and a whole lotta good grub.

Vendors lay out trays and trays of food, like a massive street party buffet. More fly swatting with plastic bags, above dishes that look suspect, side by side with those that look irresistible. Most which are saucy are served with rice, and we observed punters carrying off mounds of vegetables, meat, fish, poultry, salads, to sit nearby on low benches. In this regard, this type of food was more Thai with zesty, sweet and sour trademarks.

What I revelled in were the barbequed meats.

I ogled piles and rows of bamboo skewers as my tummy growled for everything in sight. When it comes to meat on open flaming heat, I'm adamant that the best is chicken (and lamb, but not in Laos). I threw a quail in there for good measure.

Chicken here is very much like our Malaysian ayam kampung or literally translated, village chicken. That's free-range to you Sainsbury's or Cole's shoppers. I tore off the lean meat with my teeth, in primitive, cave woman fashion to enjoy the charred goodness. Each satisfactory bite was punctuated with a little dip into tangy chilli and fish sauce. Eating off a banana leaf made it more fragrant.

Very much like the Vietnamese Summer Rolls, these lot have a filling that's a fine mince, packed with herbs. We bagged a selection of meat and vegetable ones, fried and fresh, and washed it all down with an icy cold Beerlao, Laos' premiere national lager. Perfecto.

Luang Prabrang Part 2: Going to Market

Food in Laos is a direct result of it being slap in the middle of Vietnam and Thailand. Very similar themes to pad thais, papaya salads and noodle phos, one unique distinction is sticky rice, rolled into a ball with hands, and dipped into soupy and spicy dishes. All those familiar flavours of chilli, lemongrass, garlic, lime and fragrant herbs won't surprise you, they will reignite your love for food from this region.

Aside from having gone on a rampage for all those favourites above, we visited the must-see food markets in the centre of town.

On the main Sisavangvong drag, there lies a huge temple which marks the start of the daily street market, serving up semi-touristy souvenirs with some authentic handicrafts and local wares. Get there in the morning though, and take a little side road to the left of the temple, up a narrow path to the morning market...

Sellers sit and squat on the pavements, laying out fresh produce on tattered mats, waving plastic bags attached to sticks to bat away the flies. I'm sweating unglamourously as I stop and stare at these lush ingredients.

Now I wouldn't want to get into a fight with these ladies at the egg stall, especially if they have good aim..

And amongst the familiar items, are the more exotic things. Here comes the purple version of that ubiquitous sticky rice. It's also eaten as a dessert when sweetened.

Something tells me those were Laos sundried tomatoes.

I noticed these fuchsia baskets on the ground, that were moving...

After some faux sign language with a toothless elderly local, we guessed they were tiny quails that could be bought to be freed. We couldn't quite work out the symbolism, and sadly were offered an inflated touristy price for the deed.

And of course, which Asian market would be complete without the downright strange. This vendor seemed to be selling what looked like assorted preserved hides. For eating. Even my Chinese computer says no.

Ah, the calm bliss of sitting still on the pavement and observing this old art of haggling for daily items. That's my kind of foodie morning.

Luang Prabang: Rice of Passage

Again I find myself behind on posts, bursting to flow forth with stories, agonising over how to put them in words and trying to recollect thoughts, feelings, experiences before those sensations fade. After four days in Luang Prabang, the gorgeous old-worldly French colonial town of Laos, I feel vigour from new scapes and sights.

Like it's neighbouring cities and other South East Asian countries, Luang Prabang is home to endless wats, or temples. Those that are still in use are home to various orders of monks, disciplined to a life of frugality and meditation. Some join a temple at an early age to get an education, later leaving to lead a "regular" life. Many remain to serve as spiritual guides and maintain ancient traditions.

A monk's education through a temple (at least those in Luang Prabang) is funded mainly by public donations. What do monks then do in turn for their society, whether they remain in the order or not, aside from religious leadership and preservation of culture? I met an ex monk who smiled knowingly at this question and assured me leading by example was still a very  necessary part of life.

Perhaps I understood his assurance better after seeing an age-old custom of monks receiving alms.

Every day at the early, misty hours of 5:00am, ordinary folk rise to make any food they can and offer as alms to monks. Monks queue in orderly silence from their temples, and open their food baskets to receive what looks like modest handfuls of sticky rice. This serves as one of their two meals a day.

We were a meter in distance from each other and worlds apart. I wonder what they would make of a food blogger. I wonder if I could live on two meals a day, just consisting of sticky rice.

The ex monk said that the Lao believe living as a monk is a boy's rite of passage to becoming a man. I am comforted by the expanse of Time. I feel I'm a grain of rice in a field, and my moment will come and pass.

Grow, and be happy in the moment.