
There’s nothing authentic about this dish. You could call it fusion, but why bother? It’s a bunch of stuff mushed together, and it tastes great. It warrants enough cultural capital to create it and be taken into some charmed circle though, and it’s pretty inexpensive. For Joey’s sake, I made it mad expensive (which wasn’t really expensive), and I also rattled around in his pantry for whatever could be used to make a viable bowl of what I sloppily called Thai Beer Chowder when people asked and I was too lazy to explain the semantics of rhetoric in dish names and how they hypnotize the crap out of audiences. But again, it tastes great, and I implore you, don’t be afraid to substitute, it’s a pretty forgiving recipe. Have a shellfish allergy? Don’t use shellfish. Can’t eat flour? Forget the roux, or try gluten free. Hate butter? Use oil. You can make it work. This is a mere foundation for, in the words of my Old Mater, building high beauty.
Serves 4
Ingredients
1 medium sized carrot
1 large celery stalk
1 small white onion
½ cup of butter
¼ cup flour
1½ cups chicken stock
1 330 ml bottle of beer (Thai Singha beer for the sake of novelty)
lime leaf
3 inch knob of lemon grass
2 lobster tails (½ pound)
8 medium size shrimp (chopped)
400 ml can of coconut milk (cream for a thicker chowder)
Salt to taste
Thai basil to garnish
Directions
Mince the carrot, celery, and onion as best as you can (no pressure). Chop your lobster and shrimp and set it aside. In a heavy pot melt the butter at medium low heat. Throw in your minced vegetables and sauté those suckers. When the butter thickens and the onions become translucent and fragrant, sprinkle in the flour coating all of the vegetables. Now you’re making a roux. Keep stirring until it thickens and turns a light gold. Don’t go too dark. Not necessary. Throw in your liquids. Stock and beer only. No coconut milk yet. Throw in your lime leaf and lemon grass. Set the heat to medium high. It will be difficult to see a boil because the beer will foam. Throw in your lobster and shrimp. Simmer on medium low. When both meats become cooked (a bright supple, white flesh) shut off the heat. Pour in your coconut milk (or cream). If the milk is a solid, just dump it in and stir until it melts. Don’t you ever cook coconut cream. Salt to taste.
Plate, garnish with Thai basil, and serve. If you have any limes, feel free to squeeze ‘em in. Galanga too, if you really want to drop mad cash on all those hard bodies you’re dying to hold (but they’ll probably never eat anything so fatty. Ha).
There you have it. Thai food’s never been so easy. We came, we cooked, we concurred. And surprisingly stretched a course for 4 into a meal for 7 Italians (and a cat), 5 of which ate before hand. Fantastic. Enjoy. Love,
Weezee





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