How many times have I heard, “Yeah, I don’t really like curry.” It’s inevitable that my response to that is, “Oh, which one? Or do you mean all of them?” At its base, curry means ‘sauce’ but in its breadth, it incorporates traditions from at least 20 countries, each having its own variation that is often nothing like a neighboring version. For example, when we look at the four main types of Thai curry we’ll see Red, Green, Yellow, and Massaman and each has its own flavor profile. Red curry starts with red chilies while green emphasizes basil, green eggplant, and kaffir lime leaves. Yellow curry is all about turmeric, lemongrass, and galangal while Massaman starts with a Persian influence bringing palm sugar, star anise, cloves, cinnamon, and peanuts into the recipe.

The American idea of curry likely comes from a spice mix in grocery stores called “curry” and focused on turmeric (found in mustard), cumin, and coriander (common in Mexican food), ground ginger, along with black pepper. I’d venture to say that most who decry the savory dishes made with a variation of these ingredients are actually voicing their intolerance for the particular aromas of the dishes that they are unfamiliar with, and that has more to do with their xenophobia that is still rife in our society. So, from just having eaten a lunch of chicken and green bean Tikka Masala curry and hoping to cook a Rendang (Indonesian beef curry) later today, I’m here to share how to make a Burmese curry base.

This recipe is turning out to be difficult for me to convey as my 10-year-old notes were only 25 words long. Faced with walking away forever from Little Rangoon’s pork belly curry and jackfruit curry, this was one of the first things I made, even before they closed up shop. It’s incredibly easy to make and freezes well, which is good because while its preparation is simple enough, it takes a lot of simmering before it’s done. There are no out-of-this-world aromas that arise from a wicked blend of spices, it doesn’t even really look all that appealing, but when Burmese curry wraps up its ingredients you are presented with an incredible dish with crazy amounts of umami that will turn any dish into comfort food.

As you can see above this all starts with onions, lots of onion, red onions to be specific. You’ll need a deep pan to cook this curry base because when you start the onions still have a lot of volume but are going to cook down, way down.

Ingredients:

• 10 pounds of red onions
• 1 bunch of cilantro (maybe 2 for your liking)
• 1 cup of paprika
• 12 bay leaves
• 1 cup of oil such as peanut, canola, or avocado

Preparation:

Chop onions into large slices, this will be blended later so uniformity is irrelevant. Chop the cilantro and keep in mind that a fine chop here is not required.

Heat oil over medium heat and add onions and cilantro at any time. Stir in paprika and allow this mass of onions to cook. Along the way, you may have to add more oil and with no hard rules as to how much there should be, I wouldn’t worry about ruining your curry base with too much or too little. The same goes for the amount of cilantro and paprika you prepare this with.

Once the onions have cooked for about an hour and are looking similar to the middle photo, remove them batch by batch to your blender and puree the onions and cilantro.

When you are finished blending them, return them to the cooking pan adding the bay leaves, and simmering this mixture on medium-low heat for another hour. Place it in jars and freeze what you won’t use in the next month. As I write this it reads strangely that I keep this in the fridge for about a month, but it’s worked for us for the past 10 years, so your mileage might vary.

That’s it but we’re not done here yet as I had a tip written in the margin that is important to fish dishes you might make with this curry base. Double roast your paste by cutting a stalk of lemongrass into 3″ pieces and crushing them with a mallet. Finely chop a thumb-size piece of ginger and add it and the lemongrass to a frying pan with hot oil in it. Fry this for about 30 seconds, add curry base and 1 Tbsp of paprika, cook over low heat until the flavors are merged. It was also noted that you could add garlic, cilantro, and a bay leaf if you desired.

Up next, recipes for Burmese Jackfruit Curry and Burmese Pork Belly Curry. You’ve been warned.

No food challenge here; this is pure comfort. Malay noodles are a savory dish I’ve neglected for years but recently bought the noodles for it, so Caroline and I could get reacquainted. The same goes for Dan Dan Noodles which I’ll be posting about shortly. The key ingredient to making a satisfying version of Malay noodles is to start with the correct rice noodles. The sliced version on the left is almost 1-inch wide while the sheet of noodles on the right can be used but must be sliced first. To slice the sheet it is best to leave them in the plastic wrapper and press firmly with a knife through the plastic to cut 1-inch wide strips.

Before you attempt to peel apart the noodles you must microwave them first, otherwise, they will break. Leave the noodles in the bag and microwave for 1 – 2 minutes depending on your particular oven. Once the noodles are hot and they do get pretty hot to the touch, pull them apart so you have a bowl of noodles that look like this.

Ingredients:

• 2 – 3 Tbsp oil of your choice, such as peanut, canola, or avocado
• 1/4 C. Chopped onion
• 2 – 3 ounces of sliced chicken
• Chicken stock powder – you could use MSG instead if you were so inclined
• 3 – 4 Shrimps
• 1 Egg
• Rice noodles
• 1/2 Tsp Sugar
• 1/4 Tsp Salt
• Sweet soy sauce or Kecap Manis
• Beansprouts
• Sliced green onion
• Sesame oil

Preparation:

Add oil to hot wok. Stir in onion, sliced chicken, and a 1/2 teaspoon of chicken stock powder in a very hot wok at the highest temperature you can set. Cook until the onion starts to become transparent and the chicken has lost all pinkness. Now add the shrimp and a scrambled egg, stir fry until egg is cooked and well distributed. Add the warmed noodles, sugar, and salt. You may need another small dash of chicken stock powder, use your judgment. Drizzle about a teaspoon of sweet soy sauce over the noodles, continuing to stir the noodles for about 30 seconds. Add a small handful of bean sprouts and a pinch of green onions, you are now 30 seconds away from this dish being finished. Top it off with a small splash of sesame oil and serve it up. Don’t forget that sesame oil is very pungent and a little goes a long way.

The chemistry of food remains a mystery to me 57 years after I started eating the stuff. If someone asked, “Would you like some spinach fried with some fermented bamboo shoots and a splash of vinegar?” I might not be opposed but I’d also not have high expectations of what I was about to try. If I were in the kitchen while this was being prepared I’d unequivocally voice my opposition to the idea of ever trying it.

The central ingredient in this dish is Preserved Bamboo Shoots which can also be labeled Bamboo Shoots in Chili Oil. I’ve never been to a Chinese store that doesn’t carry them so look around. Of the three or four brands we’ve tried, we’ve never been disappointed. So what was alluding to about being in the kitchen when this dish is being prepared and then taking a pass? There’s a symbiotic relationship that develops during the very last step of preparing this and that is when you add the cider vinegar it seems to combine with something in the preserved bamboo shoots that creates something that smells akin to old urine to me; strongly of steaming hot stale urine. But DON’T let that deter you as again as I said in the blog post about Laphet Thoke regarding smoked shrimp and fish sauce, get past the initial smell (it dissipates quickly) and try this dish, you won’t be disappointed.

By now I’ll assume I no longer need to tell the reader to pair the dish with rice.

Ingredients:

• 1 – 3 Tbsp oil (Little Rangoon used paprika oil which was made by heating the oil with a good amount of paprika, this was for coloring)
• 2 heaping tablespoons of bamboo shoots (I use half the jar per portion as I don’t usually know when the next time will be that I make this dish)
• Spinach – remember that spinach cooks down a lot so portion accordingly
• 1/2 to 1 Tsp of brown sugar
• 1 – 2 Tbsp cider vinegar
• Salt

Preparation:

Heat wok until hot, add oil. Stir in the bamboo shoots but be careful as they splatter a LOT. Once they are hot add the spinach and enjoy the relief from the angry oil. Add the sugar and a little salt. When spinach is about half wilted add the vinegar and continue to stir fry until spinach is at desired doneness.

Seriously, do not fret about the funky smell, maybe it’ll smell different to you. I just wanted you to be prepared should it happen and you started panicking if the bamboo shoots you bought were somehow bad, now you know. This is one of those dishes that at first glance seem too simple to be amazing but I’d undersell it if I didn’t try to convince you of how great a dish this really is. Not only that, it’s simple and very fast to prepare.

Like the title says, this is Burmese fermented green tea which is the basis for making one of the most amazing salads, also known as Laphet Thoke. Prior to trying this for the first time at Little Rangoon in Scottsdale, Arizona, I’d read about it, but the closest place to give it a try was a restaurant in El Monte, California, that had mixed reviews and it closed before we could visit. Finding ourselves in a restaurant that had this delicacy on the menu, it was the first thing we ordered.

Back in 2009, fermented green tea could not be imported to the United States from the military dictatorship of Myanmar, formerly known as Burma. People visiting neighboring country Thailand could buy it there though and bring it back to the States. Lucky for us there was enough traffic from the owners and their friends so over the course of the year we were eating at their place, there was never a shortage.

The bulk bags of tea arrived unflavored, this turned out to be very important because as time went by I had the opportunity to try some pre-seasoned products and they were horrible. Once unpacked the leaves would have to be prepared for storage and for use in salads. The first place they ended up was in a mortar so they could be adequately pounded to break up the leaves.

Once mashed up but not yet a paste, they could be stored in a jar with a bit of vegetable oil to keep them moist. After this, they’d be sealed and put in the refrigerator until needed.

Finding this stuff in America was a challenge. Back in 2010, when Little Rangoon closed up shop, the owner Elizabeth gave Caroline and me a full tightly packed quart jar that lasted us about a year. After that, we could on occasion find it at a small shop in Monterey Park, California, but that was hit and miss. Finding it online was impossible. Then around 2016, I finally ordered some online but it had to be shipped from the United Kingdom; not a cheap way to get a few small packets. Just two years ago in 2018, while on a hunting expedition in one of our local Asian stores, I found it on the shelf. St. Albert Tea Flower is how it’s labeled and for about $10 a bottle, I get nearly 11 ounces of fermented green tea. Compared to $20 for 8 ounces on Amazon, it’s quite the bargain. Now, if I were living somewhere I couldn’t buy this essential ingredient locally, I’d jump at the chance to pay $20 for 8 ounces.

Once you find fermented green tea your job is not done yet as some of the other ingredients can be equally difficult to find in the United States. In the bottom center of this photo of plated ingredients to mix up a Laphet Thoke (Green Tea Salad) is smoked dried shrimp. I’ve used dried crawfish as a substitute which works well but what I really want are the smoke shrimp. There is a product available here but it’s pricey with just 8 ounces costing $15 and the shipping is roughly the same amount so be prepared. It’s called Naz African Smoked Shrimps and can be found by clicking here.

Please notice the crispy garlic, peanuts, sesame seeds, and beans. In Burma, you’d make your own and I suspect that the kitchen staff made what was used in the restaurant but I never inquired as Elizabeth gave me enough to last a good long time; well, until we ran out. Not only was our inventory depleted, but what do you ask for when calling someone a state away trying to explain how you needed the crunchy/crispy stuff for Laphet Thoke that you are certainly butchering the pronunciation of? These days, I just go to Amazon and order ပင္ပိ်ဳရြက္ႏု ပဲႏွစ္ျပန္ေႀကာ္ and I’m all set. That, for those who don’t read Burmese, is also known as Crispy Mixed Beans and can be found clicking here.

Time to make the salad.

Ingredients:

• 2 Tbsp Fermented green tea
• 3-4 Tbsp Mixed crispy beans
• 1/2 Sliced hard-boiled egg
• 1/2 Diced Roma tomato
• 1 cup Shredded cabbage (Little Rangoon didn’t use this much)
• 1/2 Tsp Smoked shrimp powder
• 1/2 – 1 Tsp Fish sauce
• 1 – 2 Tbsp Peanut oil (or your choice)

Now mix it all together and serve with a side of steamed rice. For me, no Burmese salad would be complete without some Thai Bird’s Eye chilies to accompany the dish. Because they are not always easy to find I buy a lot when I find them, dice them into thin rounds, and freeze them. When I need some I pull them from the cold and throw them into a small ramekin with extra fish sauce (this from a guy that doesn’t like fishy flavors). A word of warning, if you’ve never used dried shrimp or fish sauce you are in for a rude surprise as I for one have never grown accustomed to their pungent stench but like the worst smelling washed rind cheeses, they add something undeniably perfect to the flavor profile of a dish and so I must endure.

Back in 2009 Caroline and I started frequenting Little Rangoon restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizona. By that time they’d already been there for a year and a half but we didn’t live in the area and so it took a while before we discovered them one day while driving by. Immediately we were smitten and became regular customers, sadly we alone couldn’t sustain their business, and about a year after we had fallen in love with Elizabeth’s amazing take on Burmese cooking, they were closing for good.

Along the way, we were rewarded with off-menu dishes or invited in when no one else was in the place to try things like various preparations of durian. Before they shut their doors I was invited into the kitchen to pick up a few tips and tricks so Caroline and I could continue to enjoy some of our favorite dishes. Those notes have languished unshared with anyone else until now, though we have resorted to them time and again for our own fond culinary memories. As a matter of fact, this very recipe and these photos were shared back in 2009 in a blog entry in which I first spoke of Little Rangoon. I wasn’t a food blogger so I tried to avoid featuring too many entries about the subject and now I regret it. But I can move to rectify that as I have all the photos and notes to share now. Over the next weeks, I’ll try my best to post as much as I can for the sake of permanently preserving these recipes which I hope will survive on the internet well into the future.

I have to admit it’s been more than 7 or 8 years since I made this Chili Onion Salad for myself. Caroline won’t eat it, nor would Elizabeth or her husband Alfred. This is peasant food and one of the most unlikely dishes for me to fall in love with. When I was a kid I hated raw onions: the basis of this dish is raw onions and some incredibly hot chili flakes.

There is one bit of preparation that could take place before setting in to make your salad and that is roasting the chili flakes. There are no special requirements for the chili flakes, any old ones will do, maybe even a few packets that are given away with pizzas would work. Simply roast them in a dry frying pan until they start to darken, but don’t burn them.

Ingredients:

• 2 Tbsp oil of your preference such as peanut, canola, or avocado
• 2 Tbsp of roasted chili flakes
• 1 Tsp salt
• 1/2 Cup of thinly sliced red onion
• 1 wedge of fresh lemon

Preparation:

Mix all the ingredients in a small bowl, preferably by hand, and that’s it.

I’d have this served with a bowl of hot steamed brown rice as brown is my preference but any hot rice will do. Like all Burmese salads we’ve had, rice plays a role in being the contrasting temperature complement to the colder, raw, and crunchy other ingredients. This salad is not for the faint of heart as it’s the only thing I’ve ever eaten that has made my eyelids sweat. While this dish may sound simple, the complexity of its ingredients after the lemon and salt go to work on “cooking” the onions and melding the flavors, are far greater than the sum of the parts.

There are almost two dozen recipes in my old notebook and about 300 photos I took in the restaurant and the kitchen. Little Rangoon was our first favorite restaurant in all of Arizona and we miss the place more than any other restaurant we’ve visited. Oh, how I’d like to sit down with Elizabeth and Alfred just one more time for one of her incredible meals.