Khao Tom Mud
Blessed food for the mind and spirit
- Published: 28/01/2010 at 12:00 AM
- Newspaper section: Mylife
It took several visits with Lung (uncle) Non before his niece Teoy finally invited me to visit her at her home. She is a Thai dessert maker.
Teoy's old house was in Nonthaburi, built by her ancestors over 100 years ago. It was a modest Thai style wooden house, perched on the edge of a narrow waterway off Klong (canal) Bangkok Noi, with its constant churning currents provoked by the water taxis' noisy and powerful motors. To get there, I had to take an express boat to Tha Chang Pier where I then negotiated with a boatman, with Teoy on the telephone giving him the directions. Another phone call was made just before I arrived, so that Teoy could be at the dock to meet me.
She walked ahead, with me tagging closely behind, along a walkway constructed above the water from old and worn wooden planks. We crossed over a narrow bridge into her neighbour's yard. It was densely covered with trees. Teoy expertly crouched underneath the canopy of tree branches, lifting those hanging low near the ground as she walked along a dirt path towards a large wooden patio. I could smell the sweet scent of jasmine-perfumed sugary syrup in the hot, sticky and humid air.
My first visit was brief, cordial and pleasant. I must have passed the test of Teoy and her family because when I visited Thailand the following year, an invitation was extended for me to spend several nights with them. I was to find out later that Teoy gave up her own bedroom for me, the most private and nicely furnished room in the house.
The dessert makers in Teoy's family consisted of herself, a quiet younger sister, a tough looking cousin, an elderly auntie and a distant relative. Throughout each day, neighbours and other relatives stopped by, stayed to chat, snacked and ended up lending a hand. However, it was these five women's shared work that reminded me of a serene choreographed dance where each knew the part they were to perform and did so effortlessly and with grace.
It began in the stillness of the dark early dawn, when the alarm clock went off at 4am, and the women quietly rustled out of bed. The neighbouring roosters crowed, rousing dogs into a barking chorus. Water was set to boil in a large pot. Within a short time, the smell of steaming sticky rice intermingled with the scent of heated coconut cream enveloped the open-air kitchen. A middle-aged female vendor paddled up to the patio kitchen in her sampan. She brought along several large empty white enamelled basins, set them down and immediately started to help stir the coconut cream. By and by, cooked rice and warmed sweet coconut cream perfumed with fresh pandanus leaves were transferred into the basins, vigorously stirred together and covered as the women then took a brief break with cups of hot instant coffee.
While waiting for the rice to drink in the syrup, the vendor chatted with Teoy and her auntie about the cremation ceremony for a neighbour to take place later that day. Aside from filling orders from other vendors, Teoy had already planned to make khao tom mud for the family of the deceased. After the vendor left with her purchase, Teoy and the auntie wrapped some remaining warmed sticky rice in several banana pouches along with food the auntie made in plastic bags. As the sun rose, lighting up the day, a sampan glided toward their home. The women carried the tray with food and went down to the pier where they pulled the sampan to a stop. They paid respect to the monk who sat quietly in the sampan; put their offerings in his bowl before gently pushing the boat off, sending it along its watery path.
Teoy's mother was renowned for her khao tom mud until she fell ill with cancer and passed away. She did it the old fashioned way by cooking the soaked sticky rice grains in coconut cream and sugar together in a brass wok. A large spoonful of warm and partially cooked rice is put on fresh banana leaves. Sliced sweet ripe banana is added along with several cooked black beans. It is wrapped into an oblong package. Two of these are then tied together with a thin bamboo strip. They are steamed once more to thoroughly cook the rice.
Teoy learned how to make khao tom mud from her mother. Although she was modest in her accomplishment, it was known among the nearby community where she lived that hers were equally wonderful. The deceased family would be honoured to have her khao tom mud as alms to the monks at the temple.
In the olden days, khao tom mud (tied) is called khao tom pad (stir to cook) reflecting the method by which it was made. It is one of the most ancient Thai dishes, religiously made by villagers as alms for Buddhist monks. Regardless of the occasions, when and if alms were to be given, khao tom mud was always included. It was so because it is made with ordinary ingredients available all year round: rice, bean, coconut, palm sugar and banana. Once cooked, it kept well for a couple of days and if necessary, could be easily packed and taken along on distant journeys.
Making khao tom mud is part of Thai family tradition, where family members and friends would get together to cook in preparation for special occasions, as with Teoy and her family. I took part in this custom within their circle of friends and family members later that morning. We sat on the polished wooden floor and folded hundreds of khao tom mud. During the gathering, I mentioned a dish made by the people of several South American countries that use similar ingredients. I marvelled to them about this coincidence and that perhaps the combination of rice and beans has been proven to be the perfect food because of their nutritious values. The women paused. The elderly auntie who had not said anything to me up until then, said something about the spirit and heart also needed nurturing as much as one's stomach. The others nodded in agreement. I didn't quite grasp what she meant until later on that evening when I helped her cook dinner. Squatting quietly next to her as she sliced and pounded, I suddenly became aware of that very moment in time. I had been welcomed by her family to share their humble and modest life richly steeped in simplicity and tradition. During those few and precious days, I lived with them a life of suk-sabai - contented heart and peaceful spirit.
source : bangkokpost.com
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