smoke and spice by Kanokwan T. '25

… and everything nice!

My favorite dish in the whole wide world is called pakaprow.⁠01 spelling variations include Pad Gaprao, Pad Kra Pao, Pad Kraprow, etc. I love it so much that it’s been my Instagram username for the past 2 years. For the entirety of my freshman year, it was literally the only dish I cooked. I made it 7 times, which comes out to around once a month. In times when things were tough, I often turned to pakaprow. To me, it brings a sense of comfort like no other. It’s neat having things in life that you can always count on to brighten your day.

So, what is this dish? Pakaprow is a spicy Thai basil meat stir fry. The sensation of cooking it is always such a riot. Spicy smoke fills the room and the cook always ends up coughing and crying, unless they’re well-acquainted with the difficulties of this dish. It’s almost like an ayahuasca ceremony,⁠02 plant-based psychedelic ritual (FYI: I have never done one and have only heard of them) at least from the experiences of others that I’ve read up on: one relinquishes control, fights to stay afoot, and feels an exhilaration of energy. It’s tough, but I like a challenge.

a snippet of when I had it in Thailand, where my family is from

It holds sentimental value because it’s the only dish that every adult in my immediate family has cooked for me. My mother’s version leaned sweet and had perfect texture; my father’s was a funny amalgamation of flavors; my uncle’s was, by far, the spiciest; and my aunt’s version best highlighted Thai basil. Everyone had their own take and I enjoyed all of them.

I love my Thai culture and how it has spread around the world through cuisine.⁠03 the gastrodiplomacy of Thailand is quite fascinating! <a href="http://yris.yira.org/essays/3080">here</a> is a great article, if you wanted to learn more Although, back at my middle school lunch table, I remember being confronted with “lunchbox moments,”⁠04 <a href="https://lucnguyen14.medium.com/my-lunchbox-moment-3f0886efcedb">defined</a> as an "instance of extreme embarrassment caused by the introduction of an unfamiliar ethnic food in the presence of peers unfamiliar with said food." more nuanced take <a href="https://www.eater.com/22239499/lunchbox-moment-pop-culture-tropes">here</a>. which feels like such a cliche as a first-generation Asian-American student of immigrants, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Prompted by the intense smell of the dish, a few people would turn their heads and scoot further away, unwilling to try to understand a dish of something new. Eventually, I started bringing lunches of less piquant smells. I felt a tad dejected, like I was the odd one out at the lunch table. Like, I understand that people like some foods and don’t like other foods, but the immediate and curt responses struck me.

This glum experience made me all the more surprised to see people in college so excited to try my Thai cooking, let alone enjoy it. It was refreshing. Perhaps there’s something about being somewhere new and starting fresh that enables people to be more open-minded. I don’t know, really. But, at the very least, what I do know is that I, along with the people around me, loved sharing this dish together for the past 2 years.

During every season of MIT life, different situations have prompted me to learn how to make this dish in incrementally more-difficult styles, all of which I had never attempted before…

1. sharing with my floormates (Beast)

As the months went by during freshman year, I started sharing the dish with people on Beast.⁠05 a floor at my dorm East Campus I had never made it communally before, only for my personal meal prep. I didn’t even have to announce that I was making the dish: the aroma permeated the walls. People flocked into the kitchen and would shyly ask if they could have a little bit, to which I would enthusiastically respond “absolutely!” I remember a small group of people eagerly asked me to teach them how to make it. As I did, they jotted down notes and prodded with questions, like they were doing a study of this dish. It warmed my heart to see people not only enjoy the dish, but also learn how to make it themselves.

2. meal-prepping for ~42 people in my living group (pika)

The summer after freshman year, I lived at pika: an MIT independent living group where we cooked and cleaned together. One day, I was the lead cook and decided to make pakaprow for the MANY people that ate our daily dinners. Not only had I never made it for nearly that many people before, but I had never had to accommodate for so many different food preferences: gluten-free, vegetarian, non-spicy, dairy-free, and all that jazz. It was a little scary, but I think that made it all the more exciting.

3. serving it for a spice competition (CPW event)

from the East Campus CPW schedule

This sophomore year, I was roped into making the dish for a Campus Preview Weekend⁠06 a weekend where admitted students visit MIT to experience a ton of fun events and, in that process, see all that we have to offer event: Super Spicy Food, where challengers came in to take on our spice challenge. I’ve never included more peppers than I did in this dish: 40! Yes, forty. A floormate and I collectively served three dishes, in order of ascending difficulty: (1) turkey-parmesan sandwiches smeared with Habanero jam, (2) Texan dry-rubbed baked ribs, and, of course, (3) pakaprow. We laid each dish out on the table, exclusively queued up Red Hot Chili Peppers⁠07 <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Hot_Chili_Peppers">a rock band</a> songs, and let the feast begin.

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It was funny watching the time lag of spice hit people. They would insist that they were fine, but, after a few moments, would be downing massive amounts of water (which I absolutely do NOT recommend because capsaicin, the chemical that triggers the spice sensation, is oil-based and would only be moved around in your mouth to trigger even more pain receptors), ice (which somewhat helps because it numbs your tongue, but will ultimately result in the same fate as drinking water), and milk (which is very good because it actually breaks the bonds between capsaicin and taste buds). My personal favorite remedy is to slowly chew on carbs, typically rice (because it absorbs the capsaicin).

nom nom nom (front view)

nom nom nom (bird eye's view)

before chopping

after chopping

imminent pan frying

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The Recipe

I’ve hyped up this dish enough already that I might as well share my recipe. Apologies for the lack of measurements: it’s very vibes-based (I used to be annoyed at my mom doing this, but look at me now 🤦🏻‍♀️). This version certainly isn’t the only way to make it, but, at the very least, how I do it.

1. Grind up Thai chili peppers and garlic cloves in a mortar and pestle. 
   1. Alternatively, putting the chilis through a food processor or finely chopping could work work, but it’ll be a bit different. The manually mashing of the pestle causes the breakdown of the ingredients’ cell walls and that, in turn, releases the spice and tang of the respective ingredients. 
2. Fry that mixture in oil.
   1. This step is basically just creating fresh chili oil.
3. Mash in the protein.
   1. Once the garlic turns golden, put your protein in the pan. Then, with a wooden spatula, mash the protein such that it starts to break apart into little pieces (roughly 1 cm cubes). Keep mashing until the protein is all broken up.
   2. The staple protein is ground pork, but you can substitute any protein here. Chicken breast, diced tofu, seitan, whatever suits your fancy.
4. Pour in each of these sauces.
   1. You don’t have to have these exact brands; these are just the ones my family uses.
      1. Squid fish sauce
      2. Kwong Hung Seng thin soy sauce
      3. Maekrua oyster sauce
      4. Golden Mountain seasoning sauce
5. Toss in Thai basil leaves.
   1. Mix up the dish for 1 more minute then turn off the heat. 

Voila! Serve with Jasmine rice and a sunny side egg for full authenticity. I like to tack on a bitter melon soup as well. Sometimes, I make an ~illegal~ combination and instead of eating it with rice, I dump it into a bowl of mac and cheese. It is such a fantastic melding of flavors; I feel like Remy from the movie Ratatouille every time I have the combo.

Whenever I was homesick last year (and I mean really homesick), I made pakaprow. No matter where I was in the world, I knew this dish would always feels like a hug from home.

Food is so much more than just sustenance: it’s an experience that tingles your senses, elicits a consistent bit of joy, captures memories, and acts as means of communion. It’s a part of life we all have to partake in anyways, so we might as well relish in it. 

To quote the above almond can that I snacked from while studying one late night, “crave victoriously.”