The Best Phad Kra Phao in Thailand

Of the many excellent dishes of Thai cuisine's thousands of degustatory concoctions, one of my favorites is phad kra phao or fried basil leaves and hot chili peppers.

Typically served on rice with pork or chicken (but sometimes with shrimp or other seafood), you can also order it with a fried egg on the side, as the Thais often do.

There's also a version of the dish served with fried wide rice noodles, instead of the usual white rice, called phad khee mao (drunkard's noodles) which I've happily ordered instead.

When I began doing my annual revisits to Thailand in 2005 and 2006 one of my favorite pastimes was ordering this tasty and often spicy dish.

By the time of my last visit in 2007, my lust for phad kra phao had evolved into something of a quest to find the best of its kind in Thailand.

Without any real desire to find a definitive winner, however, I noticed after a time that I was ordering the dish at least once, sometimes twice, per day.

I ordered it from typical sit-down restaurants, from the smallest of street stalls, from air-conditioned food courts in shopping malls, from five-star hotel coffee shops, from fancy mountain resorts, from the humblest of village food shacks, from 20-30 baht menus (60 cents to 90 cents)  to 300-400 baht menus ($9 to $12).

My friend Pik would often make it, and anytime I visited other friends at home there was a good chance phad kra phao would be on their own extensive, family-style meals as well.

Did I ever find the best one?  I'm fairly certain I never had a bad one, with one remarkable exception.

In 1997 I was working the Phrae gig with the Banjoman Band.  The venue was a typical restaurant/pub job (owned by the same owner of today's Tiger Kingdom in Chiangmai), and band members were entitled to one free rice dish per night.

The chef was aware that phad kra phao was one of my favorites, and he would ask me:  "Dave kin phet dai mai?" ("Can you eat spicy?")

When I assured him that I could eat it spicy "baep Thai" (Thai style) it became something of a game for him to find my limit of phrik khee noo (hot chili peppers).  Gradually his version of the dish became ever more spicy.  After the meal he would smirk and ask me how it was:  "Phet mai?  Dave yang kin phet dai, reu?" ("Was it spicy?  You can still eat spicy?")  Always I would assure him:  "Kin dai nae nawn!  Arroi maak maak luhy" ("Of course I can eat spicy!  It's very delicious")

One night, possibly in frustration at my unwillingness to blink, he went all out and just loaded up the dish with as much crushed chili pepper as he could manage.  I forget now if I ordered it with pork, or chicken, or shrimp, or what, because it hardly matters:  his creation was so spicy that it was virtually inedible.  I went through the motions, but I conspicuously didn't clean my plate that evening.

As always, he was near the door as I was on my way home for the night, and he didn't waste time cornering me with:  "Khuen-nee arroi mai?  Dave yang kin phet dai, chai mai?"  ("Was it good tonight?  You can still eat spicy, right?")  What a smartass!

Still, I refused to bend:  "Arroi maak, kheun-nee man phet nit-noi tae arroi muean deum" ("Very tasty, tonight it was a little spicy but delicious all the same")

At this my culinary torturer roared with laughter as I walked out of the joint.  I never ordered the dish from him again.

So did I ever find a "best" one?  Who knows, but one occasion sticks out for me.

I recall that I ordered a standout version of the dish from a hole in the wall, outdoor-seated, food shack outside the so-called Fish Cave on the winding mountain road from Soppong to Mae Hong Son town.

If I remember correctly, the mae khrua (owner/chef) recommended the shrimp version, so I said okay.  It absolutely blew me away with its flavor, subtle spicing, and overall naa-kin (extraordinarily delicious) quality.

How do I remember this occasion after having tried phad kra phao hundreds of times over 25 years? 

Because on that day I said to myself: 

"I think I might have found the best phad kra phao in Thailand!"

Thailand Story

From about 1985-1989, when I lived in New York, I spent most of my springs and summers hanging out in the international busking scene in Europe.  From Paris and Zurich, I would join various bands forming up to play the summer season on the circuit.  The money was actually quite good back then--good enough to fly to London or Paris 2-3 times a year.

One of my friends, a Dutch one-man band named Thomas van Nes, had relocated to Chiangmai and fallen in love with Thailand and with a young Thai woman.  He later married her and they had two sons, now grown. 

The band I was playing with at the time, the Rhythm Pygmies, bumped into Thomas in Switzerland during the summer of '89, and he urged us to pay him a visit.  The four of us in the band--me, my running buddy Marc from New York on guitar; Gilles,a Canadian bassist; and Christian, a French-Spanish gypsy singer/guitarist; took Thomas up on his invitation just a few days before the Berlin Wall fell in November of '89.

One thing led to another and we started getting gigs in Chiangmai, so we decided to stay indefinitely, or at least for the winter.  In the end, the Rhythm Pygmies celebrated its swan song with a lengthy run in Bangkok's Brown Sugar jazz club in May of 1990, and then we split up more or less permanently with Marc and me staying in Thailand while Gilles and Christian returned to Europe.

Marc and I found ourselves hooked on the Thai people, the food, the culture, and the ease of getting paid gigs in Chiangmai.  Marc later married a Thai citizen, Pik, and eventually they had a daughter, Peppo.

Long story short, Marc and I eventually went our separate ways and I joined a Thai country band, Banjoman and Friends, whose members were mostly from Phrae province.  We enjoyed a very well-paid run at Chiangmai's Mae Ping Hotel, and this led to other gigs including private engagements in Thailand's "Hi-So" scene:  Army and police generals (including a former prime minister and leader of the 1991 coup that ousted Chatichai Choonhaven), aristocracy including the King and Queen, and other various and assorted rich and powerful figures.

This experience--roughly from 1992 through 1998--culminated with several Banjoman recording sessions and CDs and at least one appearance that I recall on national television.  So I was fortunate enough to be hooked up with Thai musicians who were sort of C- or D-list famous.  But these led to other gigs for me with a few A-list people including Ad Carabao and Nga Caravan.

Perhaps most importantly, all this was happening as Thailand was in the midst of an economic boom which ended only with the so-called Asian currency crisis in July 1997. In other words, Thailand in the mid-'90s was the right place and the right time for me.

Along the way I also met a Thai woman, and we ended up together for about three years--no children--and it was from her that I learned the bulk of my Thai language skills.  Meanwhile, my colleagues in the Banjoman group were the ones who introduced me to phlaeng luk-thung and Thai classical music.  Banjoman ultimately disbanded in '98 but since then there have been many imitators in Chiangmai and Bangkok--indeed, probably in every major city in Thailand.

Phrae Boys at the Tiger Kingdom

Tuk and Pik both sent me to Tiger Kingdom in Town, part of the larger Tiger Kingdom franchise.

"You will find the Phrae boys there, " Tuk said.

The "Phrae boys"--from Phrae province--are some of the guys I used to play with in the Banjoman Band during the early 1990s.

Sure enough, I found A, another one of my oldest friends here, leading a group of much younger players which included a fantastic young female singer who sang with such energy and enthusiasm, I was completely mesmerized.

A didn't recognize me at first, but when he did it was all hugs and laughter.

A started out as a founding member of the old Chiangmai Beatles cover band at the Riverside and he became a much sought after bassist.  Much more than a bassist, however, he can play just about any stringed instrument on the map.  Over the years he followed his heart through many musical incarnations and traveled widely in Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam.

More recently he returned to Chiangmai to teach and help develop new local talent.

I was so impressed with his group, called Ba-leng Phlaeng, that I felt he's done much more than mentor the next generation.  He's actually developing the music itself, bringing the Chiamngmai restaurant/pub music scene to a newer and exciting level.

Lek "Mandolin" was also nearby last night.  Another crucial player in the Banjoman group, he's a thoughtful, quiet man who has facial features similar to the Native American.  Like A, he was very surprised to see me.  We talked about some of our mutual friends including Sakhorn "Mr Action" ("Wait a little bit, he'll be here soon," said Lek), Moo "Bass" (retired from his public school teaching job and now building and repairing guitars), Prasat (leader of Banjoman--still living in Phrae with his wife and now teenage son), and others.

Perhaps the most joyful encounter for me was with Sakhorn--Mr Action himself--whose jaw seemingly dropped to floor when he saw me there.  Hugs!  In Thailand!  Where they really don't do that sort of thing!

He and I had a chance to chat for about half an hour.  He was the oldest player in Banjoman (about eight years older than me), and he really looked great and seemed to be doing well.  His job last night was to play and sing solo the last set of the night before curfew.

Everywhere in Chiangmai I've been so far owners/proprietors are complaining about the slow, low season and the bad effect of the military's curfew on business.

But Tiger Kingdom was nearly full of customers enjoying fine food and drink and exciting new music, and I was happy to be part of that crowd.