Spicy Breakfast

Thai oatmeal

                                   

Entering the small restaurant I noticed a slowly rotating ceiling fan. I am sure it was originally a cream color but the dust and spider webs had collected and turned it a grainy shade of brown. It’s drooping head and slow motion reminded me of my own state of mind. The heat felt like a contagious fog that had permeated every pore. 

Breaking my intense bond with the slow motion ceiling fan, my boss cut in and asked,

 “This is a rice soup breakfast place would you like it with fish or with pork?” 

Startled, I realized that I had yet to mention that I was a 10 year vegetarian.  “Don’t eat the meat” I said and immediately regretted my casual response when I saw his face drop. 

“Ohh, ummm, okay. That makes things a little difficult. You eat eggs? “ 

“Yes, I do. I quite like them.” I hoped my over enthusiasm for eggs and egg products would make up for the obvious disappointment of my no death policy. 

“Good then. You can have rice soup and egg.” My boss waved over a waiter and ordered our soup in Thai. 

“So,” I awkwardly broke in, “will my vegetarianism be a problem in Thailand? I though the whole Buddist thing would make it easier.”

 My boss cleared his throat as he prepared to break my Buddha bubble, “There are a few options for you but basically Thai Buddists think of vegetarianism as something you do for a period of time, as a cleansing, then you go back to the meat. I fear you will have limited options, but there are plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables.”

 “I am sure I can figure it out!” I responded with a persistent cheerfulness that was even beginning to irritate me.

The waiter brought over our soup and placed it on the rickety plastic table. With instinctive Canadian courtesy I responded, “thank you” and I received one of those famed Thai smiles.  My boss put away the array of training papers he had lain out on the table and then from the center of the table he grabbed a tin and glass, four leaf clover shaped spice holder. He proceeded to put a small spoonful of dry red chili flakes into his soup and politely offer the spoon to me. I turned down the exotic looking spoonful while explaining,

 “I think I will take it very easy on the spice for my first little while. I grew up on salt, pepper, ketchup and mayonnaise. I can handle rice soup for breakfast, feels a little bit like porridge, but adding hot peppers? My bowels are already screaming just looking at that little spoon.” 

My boss managed a smile but I saw some dismay in his eyes and I realized that by talking about bowel movements at the breakfast table, I had potentially compromised the instinctive Canadian courtesy.

The soup did indeed remind me of the stand-by camp breakfast of porridge, but it was missing the option of whole cream, brown sugar or maple syrup. Instead, I had the option of dried red pepper flakes, green and orange sliced peppers in a clear sauce, some kind of plain black sauce as well as a black sauce complete with good-time floating peppers. 

None of the options appealed to me at 8:30 in the morning. In fact, the concept of eating spicy morning gruel when I already had a visible sweat line creeping down my spine seemed downright sado-masochistic. 

“Spicy breakfast is a first for me” I told my boss as I played the child’s game of ‘move your food around so it looks like you are eating it’ (doesn’t work so well with rice soup, can’t really rearrange it). 

“The food can throw many people at first but soon you will come to love the spice and you will find that food without the spice becomes quite boring.” 

“I suppose I might,” I replied as I noticed a few extra drops of sweat appear on his brow every time he took another spoonful. “but eating has never really been about pain for me. Spicy food is painful and it makes me sweat more, so logically I am not very interested in it.” 

My boss stopped eating and looked up at me with concern, “Victoria, take a moment to remember that you are in Thailand and things will not always be the same as where you are from, in fact, the way things are done here may seem to defy ‘logic’ as you put it, but it is always best to try new things.” 

I returned my boss's gaze, thought for a moment, and then reached for a spoonful of the dried red chilies, “I get the message.”

Now be a good girl and add some chillies
to your breakfast.
(A phrase Mum never used when I was growing up.)