A well phed gai (Thai curry)

Phed Gai simply means red curry in Thai. When you think of Thai food, the inimitable curry, strong in colour, warm and earthy in flavour, is the first thing pops into mind. It's the signature Thai dish that has travelled far beyond its tropical shores to become a global icon. When I walk into Ren Zen at the Courtyard by Marriot I know that one thing I want above everything else is to experience a good Thai curry, a damn good one if possible.

Specialty Thai chef Praiwan greets me with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed like someone who likes to talk, which as a journalist, is fine by me. We move in to the show kitchen. There we have a view of the whole restaurant. Large red lamps, dimly lit, tables laid out with thick rustic crockery, and just a couple of patrons engaged in quiet conversations over lunch. "You're lucky it's not busy today, we'll have time to talk," says the chef as he ladles a mountain of oily red curry paste into a pan.

The popularity of the Thai curry, according to chef, is because only fresh herbs and ingredients are used in it. “No dried spices and other stale ingredients like in your curries,” he says half-jokingly.
Praiwan pulls a large steel drawer open and takes out a motley bunch of leaves and roots. I ask him what they are.

"Lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves and galangle (a kind of root from the ginger family). We have to import the curry paste from Thailand, the pastes that you get here don't have the proper ingredients. But even the imported curry paste is not that fresh, so I use my own special technique to refresh it," he answers.

Refreshing involves mixing a paste of Kaffir lime peel, galangle and coriander root in with the canned curry paste. "The flavour is much stronger this way, and fresher."To my surprise, he takes out a packet of Maggi coconut powder. The chef says it’s the best available in the Indian market. He pours 1 cup of it into a bowl, adds two cups of water and says to me with a wagging finger, "Remember 1 cup of powder in 2 cups of water for red curry and 1 1/2 cups of water for green curry."

While the coconut milk simmers on the flame, I get a chance to ask the chef about food in Thailand. There must be different sorts of Thai food that we don't get to sample in restaurants abroad. "Of course. Thai food is very different in different regions, the food up north is very spicy, they use a lot of vegetables and meat not much coconut milk. Down south the food is quite similar to Malaysian food with a lot of ground spices.

The food that you have at most Thai restaurants comes from the central part of the country, it's Bangkok food."  So where does Thai curry from ? "Curry is something that is had all over Thailand. But the Thai curry that is served abroad, the thick, coconutty, not so spicy version comes from the central region," he replies in a matter of fact tone.

I see him scoop some foam off the coconut milk, he anticipates the next question and before I can ask it Praiwan says, "You have to do that to make sure you get a good colour." A sudden loud buzz emanates from the main kitchen, interrupting our conversation. It's from the massive, cement cased burners. "It's so loud. In Thai cooking you don't need such high flames, the food needs to simmer on a medium flame, you need such turbo-charged burners only in a Chinese kitchen," he adds with a grin.

I'm amazed at the fact that he can keep up an incessant chatter while expertly carrying on with the cooking process. He heaps a massive spoonful of the curry paste into the coconut milk and starts whisking it gently with an egg-beater all the while telling me about the time he was in the kitchen of the Intercontinental in Beirut when an explosion shook the city. "The ceiling above my head shook, we ran for our lives. It was terrible."

After a couple of minutes of mixing,Praiwan informs me that the red curry is almost done. "Some jaggery needs to be added. If you want an authentic Thai curry you have use palm sugar or jaggery, never use sugar," he says using his teaching voice. After enquiring whether I'm a vegetarian or not, ("I'll only use soya sauce if you are") chef adds a spoonful of fish sauce and soya-sauce each and finally the curry is ready for tasting. I've tasted many Thai curries in my time, but the thick, creamy, sweet-salt goodness that trickled on to my tongue was something I never experienced before.

The chef stood there with a smile of satisfaction and said "It's all about the process. Follow the correct steps and Thai food is easy to make." I gathered that there was a bit more to it than just the process. However I didn't want to disagree with the man who'd just made the best Thai red curry I've ever tasted.

Later on we sit down for a sumptuous lunch of chicken red curry and steamed rice, prawn pad-thai and sticky rice with alfonso mango. The curry had been reinforced with pea-sized baby eggplants, sweet basil leaves and of course thick slices of juicy chicken breast. I'm a little surprised at the paucity of vegetables, "In Thailand you only put eggplants, baby-eggplants and basil leaves. But over here vegetarians ask me to put all kinds of things, babycorn, cauliflower, mushrooms, I don't mind, it’s fun," explains the chef.  

While I tuck in to the food, Praiwan says, "You know I’ve worked with a lot of people from different nationalities. Indians are closest to the Thai people. We both have strong emotions which are easily noticeable. I like that, which is why I came to work  here." I don’t know if my emotion of pure delight at the food is evident, but I for one am glad that Chef Praiwan decided to make Mumbai his home, at least for a few years.