Going downtown for Thai groceries

The coveted, frozen lime leaves, and some galanga

Since winter, I've been wanting to cook Southeast Asian food from Hot Sour Salty Sweet, but all the recipes that intrigued me most had ingredients that I couldn't find in my neighborhood. We have two Japanese groceries here, several Thai restaurants, and one store that claims to carry banana leaves, but I've never seen them there.  

So once we had a decently free week, I Googled "Thai grocery Manhattan" and we set off to Chinatown. I had several places on my list, but as it turned out, all I needed was Udom Grocery on Bayard Street. (The link goes to a photo tour of Chinatown, which includes Udom, but it's copyrighted, so I didn't post the photo directly.)

We approached Udom from across the street, under threatening grey skies that made all the buildings look tired. The storefront looked dingy and cluttered, as did the interior once we entered. The whole store was about twelve feet wide including freezer cases, shelves, and the checkout counter, but there are many such tiny grocery stores in Manhattan, and I've grown to love them, because the proprietors are often the owners, and they are friendly and knowledgeable.  

C.Z. and I ambled down the narrow aisle, which was stacked with boxes in front of the shelves, familiarizing ourselves with the tiny, unfamiliar storescape. Most of the foods were the packaged type, with labels that weren't slick like American ones or artfully pop like Japanese ones.  They were labelled in both Thai and English.  Many of the items, as in Japanese groceries, were sauces, noodles or instant meals combining the two.  But everything on my list was produce, and I didn't see a shred of leaf or pepper anywhere.  As we were the only people in the store, I'm sure it was obvious that we were confused. 

Finally the owner spoke up from the register:  "Help you find anything?" He had an accent and left the articles out of his sentences, but he was easy to understand.  

"Do you have lime leaves?" I asked, thinking I'd go for the item I wanted most.  

"Lime leaves expensive,"  he responded.  Uh, oh, I thought.  If he didn't have them, who would? 

But just as I thought this, he went over to two household-type refrigerator freezers and started pulling something out. Then I realized that, of course, coming all the way from Thailand, all produce had to be kept frozen. "Lime leaves $10," he continued, and gave me an explanation that I don't remember.  "Smell."  I did, and instantly got a whiff of that distinctive Thai food smell that inspired me to cook Thai in the first place. The fact that I was quite hungry added to the experience, no doubt.

Then he reached into the freezer again and started pulling out everything that was on my list, without my asking! "Here. Banana leaves.  Here. Chilies." 

 

The other man who worked in the store grinned.  I looked at him and pursed my lips. "What? Are they hot? How are they compared with jalapenos?"  

"Same as jalapenos, but very hot." I gathered that he meant they were smaller, thus more concentrated.  It turned out when we used them that that's exactly what he meant. They were so overwhelming to the taste that I may cut down the recipes by half a pepper, even though I like hot food.

The owner kept on pulling things out:  Frozen chopped lemongrass, which I didn't need, strictly speaking, because I could buy fresh, but I was so enchanted with the place by this time that I thought I'd try it.  And galangal.  "Not same as ginger," he advised.  Close, but not the same.

After pulling some star anise from the spice rack and starting to pay, the owner pointed to some banana leaves tied with raffia which were lying next to the register.  "Sticky rice, very good. It's dollar seventy-five."  Did I mention that I was starving?  They were wrapped in twos, so I bought one package and thanked the owner.

Star anise tastes a little like fennel seed

Thai chilies (use with caution!) sitting on a pack of frozen banana leaves

As we walked out onto the street, it was starting to rain, so we popped out our umbrellas on the narrow sidewalk and I started fumbling with the wrapper as we set out towards SoHo.  C.Z. and I laughed because even though I'd handed her the grocery bag, I was trying to hold the umbrella, cross streets, and unwrap a seemingly endless length of banana leaf all at the same time.  Of course I was getting wet.  

But by the time we got to Centre Street, I had found the edible center of sweet sticky rice dotted with red beans.  It had a distinctive, handmade taste that made a favorable impression, as new foods usually do when you're hungry.  At first, C.Z. offered to give me hers, but I suggested she try it and she changed her mind by the time we arrived at our next stop.  

By comparison our second destination, Sur La Table, which I'd been to before, was ordinary, even yuppie.  I found the same bowls I'd purchased from Tongin Mart on our last trip to Chinatown, but they cost $9 instead of $5.  We wandered around for far too long, finally leaving with a pizza stone but no peel, and a mortar and pestle.  What was I thinking, buying two of the heaviest items in the store to take home on the subway at rush hour? I get like a deer in the headlights when faced with so many choices.

The train was so crowded that C.Z. and I got separated on the car, though I knew she was there, and when I found her again a couple of stops later, she was talking to someone whom I didn't recognize at first.  Turns out it was a former babysitter from co-op and King's College student, whose marvelously alternative Christian wedding I'd heard much about last year.  She and her husband were visiting the city before moving to Albuquerque.  

By the time we arrived home, we were exhausted, but we proceeded to attempt a pizza on the new stone.  Turns out we needed a peel after all, or at least more flour, because it turned into a calzone en route from the pan to the stone.  But I don't think I'm going back to that store this week. We'll try scones instead until we get this figured out.

Last night I made fish coconut curry with lime leaves from Hot Sour Salty Sweet, accompanied by Yunnan cabbage with star anise.  By the time I got to the cabbage, I'd realized how hot the curry was going to be, so I used less chili pepper in the latter.  The result was delicious, if a bit overwhelming to the flavor of the curry, but we sweated and enjoyed, and now I know where to get Thai ingredients when I need them.  And we had a nice adventure without going far from home.