The Irish are a curious race to me. I imagine clovers and leprechauns with a potful of gold coins at the end of a rainbow when I think of anything associated with the Irish (stereotypical me!), so it should come as no surprise when I say Irish pubs aren’t really my thing.

I didn’t think I would ever set foot inside The Dubliner even though I pass it everyday on my way to work. Guess what made me change my mind? MJ heard from a friend that they serve killer blue cheese burgers! Now THIS I gotta check out!

MJ went around the block three times to look for a parking space before we got one. We walked past a few dodgy-looking shops (the area is very seedy but there happens to be lots of good eateries around there) and of course, the outside of the pub was painted green. The interesting thing was that there are mottos written across the top of the pub and one said, “We Cheat Tourists and Drunks”, which I found highly amusing. Since we were neither tourists nor drunks, we didn’t have anything to worry about. So in we went into the pub…

A dimly lit, smoke-filled room packed with farangs (Thai for Caucasians) greeted us. One drunk woman was being dragged out the back door by two men as she yelled, “I love you!” to the men at her table. I looked at my watch, which read 6:55 PM. Wow, not even 7 yet and already she was a goner.

Suddenly, all eyes in the room turned to look at us; two Asian newcomers who probably looked like little girls compared to their towering forms. It was unnerving, and we meekly shuffled our way to the table in the back of the room as we pretended not to notice the stares following us. Once we sat down, the noise picked up again and we relaxed a bit. It took a while before a waitress handed us menus and after ten minutes of deciding on which scrumptious item to order in addition to the blue cheese burger (everything sounded good), we were ready.

We probably should’ve started with Guinness but we weren’t in the mood for beer so we settled for pint-sized iced tea (60 baht) instead. We were warned that the portions here are huge and they were true to their words – MJ claimed that the Blue Cheese Burger (285 baht) was the biggest burger she’d ever seen in her life. The patty was humongous, with caramelized red onion marmalade and gooey blue cheese dressing lavishly spread on top. I thought I had a big mouth but even I had tremendous difficulty taking a bite of that giantic burger. In the end, I had to use a knife and fork to split the burger into two layers and MJ abandoned the top bun altogether. The beef was tender, the red onion marmalade sweet, and the blue cheese dressing divine. The fries that came with it was rightfully manly; crispy and chunky, not like those skinny shoestring fries. No, those simply would not do with the gargantuan burger.

Just then, the waitress placed our Half Roast Chicken (385 baht) on our table. Resting on a bed of mashed potatoes and surrounded by three blocks of home-made stuffing, the chicken was enormous. Baby corn and asparagus pieces in a creamy sauce was drizzled over the dark brown gravy, which almost drowned the chicken. As we were contemplating on ways to attack the chicken, an English gentleman in a grayish-brown suit walked over to our table.

Old English Guy (OEG): Are you girls gonna be able to finish that?
MJ: Hehehe…
OEG: Oh, it’s for the family, right?
MJ & J: *exchange glances*

And with that, he was gone as quickly as he had come. Thinking he must’ve been one of the drunks who were about to be “cheated” by the joint, we ignored him, our focus back to the chicken. MJ and I both scooped some mashed potatoes into our mouth and…

MJ: Oh my god, this is sooo good!
J: Garlic mashed potatoes! MMM! *spoons some more into mouth*

In case you’re wondering, we decided to split the chicken in half. The chicken skin was tasty but the meat was a bit too dry and although the dish was swimming in gravy when it first arrived, the sauce had all been sucked up by the mashed potatoes, leaving us with little to eat the chicken with. What a meal it was, with us two stuffing our faces in silence. Our chit chat finally resumed when our bellies were too stretched to hold any more food, and the English man was back, this time with a reprimand:

OEG: No desserts until you finish your food!
MJ: Okay, dad!
OEG: *pauses in astonishment, then raises a finger to point at MJ* Well spotted! *Walks off to join a crowd of other English men*

And that, thanks to MJ, was the last attempt to engage us in conversation from the Sugar Daddy. Left alone once again, our chatter continued…

MJ: I can’t believe I just said that!
J: Haha…well he was old!
MJ: Yeah, at least he got the point!

We tried to sit there for a while to burn off the food so we could pack in some dessert, but that proved to be an impossible feat and we finally relented, going out the back door to avoid Sugar Daddy. There was just one more thing I had to do, and I went around to the front again to make sure the sign really said “We Cheat Tourists and Drunks” and not “We Treat Tourists and Drunks” (the font was hard to read). Sure enough, it said:

Well, I guess it’s part of the Irish charm!

The Dubliner
440 Sukhumvit Rd.
(Washington Square, Soi 22)
Klongton, Klongtoey
Bangkok, Thailand 10110
Tel: 02-204-1841-2
Open: daily 9:00am-1:00am

Categories: Restaurant Review
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…continued from Indulging the Senses (Part 1)

Belgium
CHOCOLATES!!! Without a doubt, Belgium is famous for its high quality chocolates, especially hand-made ones. Little souvenir shops and chocolatiers line the streets that lead up to Manneken Pis, but Moeder Babelutte with its navy-blue-and-white-striped awning looked so adorable that I found myself being pulled into the store by invisible forces.

Inside the shop, delicate morsels of pralines, truffles, caramel, orangettes, chocolate seashell, nougats, and other confectionery packages sit patiently on shelves, waiting for customers to pick them up. I don’t like chocolates that are too sweet, so I chose a bag of orangettes and a box of assorted dark chocolates. I particularly liked one with a cream filling – the bittersweet dark chocolate blended harmoniously with the luscious soft white cream, which just melted on your tongue like snowflakes. If this was one of those old-day dramas, the chocolate would be the tall, dark, and handsome stranger in a tuxedo pursuing the fair-skinned, gorgeous lady in white, the center of all eyes.

Next to the chocolatier stood a shop that emitted a familiar sweet scent that would take the willpower of steel not to inhale deeply and salivate. Of course, what could be the source of this smell except for just-made waffles! Toppings ranged from chocolate to fruit sauces such as strawberries, cherries, and blueberries. There were also liqueurs such as Grand Marnier and some other toppings which I couldn’t read. My waffle came laden with cherry sauce, laced with whipped cream and finished with a sprinkling of powdered sugar on top for good measure. Pure calories and sweetness guaranteed…but it sure felt satisfying to stuff my chilly-breeze-stung face with warm waffles! (I apologize if I’m not making much sense…it must be the lingering side effects of eating so much your blood vessels get constricted and causes your brain to unsuccessfully string together comprehensible sentences.)

Another waffle shop had the usual chocolate sauce, fresh strawberries, and bananas, and wasn’t as generous on the toppings as the previous shop but I guess even health nuts need to indulge in a waffle or two sometimes.

France
There’s nothing like a stroll along the weekend markets to wake up your senses. Blood-red balls of cherries sit like polished Christmas ornaments in plastic crates, Giant King Crabs and Madagascar shrimps the size of my hands rest on crushed ice, flowers the colors of rainbows line up on shelves, and butchers in white-pressed uniforms cheerfully showcase their rosy pink cuts. As if that wasn’t enough to feast your eyes on, the smell of roasting chickens wafts through the air, beckoning you to sample the delicious tender meat. Stacks of freshly baked breads and different arrays of cheeses lay tantalizing in baskets and glass cases.

I asked the cheese seller for a taste of Roquefort and she handed me a generous chunk of crumbly rich blue-veined cheese. Its distinctly funky (in a good way!) aroma filled my nostrils and as I took a bite, the piquantness of the cheese distributed evenly in my mouth. I could’ve turned to mush right then and there - the flavor of the cheese was so robust - but that would mean I won’t get to sample more food. My aunt is totally nuts about walnut cheese so she bought some of that, and while the cheese was very creamy and soft, I don’t love walnuts so I stuck to the blues. I just *heart* bleu cheese! In the end, I settled on Bleu des Causses, a cheese similar to Roquefort but milder, softer, and creamier. While it’s still made in France, Bleu des Causses is made from cow’s milk rather than ewe’s milk, from which Roquefort is made.

Following the saltiness of the cheeses, slivers of crunchy radishes tasted mildly sweet with a taste that cleansed my palate, followed by peppery hotness. Juicy nectarous tartness from cherries, buttery goodness from ripened avocadoes, and Champignon mushrooms so fresh the earthiness was still detectable sent my taste buds into overdrive. It’s pure heaven for food aficionados and you realize too late that your casual stroll has drained a big hole in your wallet.

—

After window shopping at Galeries Lafayette, we went to a little bistro not too far away where I had escargots. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have escargots for a long long time or maybe it’s because I can’t exactly remember how it tasted, but it didn’t taste as good as the ones my mom used to make. The escargot, filled to the brim with melted parsley garlic butter, came in a plate that housed a dozen shells. The snails were soft and a bit chewy, and although it was heavily buttered, it was not very salty. Instead, after chewing all the garlicky bits, the underlying flavor was that of dirt.

Since escargots are made using land snails and they eat soil and decayed products, the initial preparation process must be done carefully and is time-consuming. Their digestive system must be emptied to prevent food-poisoning upon consumption. Just this process takes several days and the poor snails are left to starve and purge. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were bulimic! Seriously though, they probably go through many phases of suffering before they can be presented on a nice plate with snail tongs and snail forks.

At this same bistro, we had frog legs and I’m not sure of the cooking process, since someone else ordered the dish, (I was just on my way back from Galeries Lafayette to join the group that awaited us and the dish came shortly after my arrival.) but it looked like it had been sautéed in butter with garlic, tomatoes, and parsley. I’ve eaten fried frog legs once when I was about 5 or 6 and I can’t remember what they tasted like. Since I’m terrified of frogs (and almost all things amphibian and reptilian), the thought of eating their legs makes my legs wobbly. On this occasion, my curiousity and fear of missing out on a potential great dish overcame my phobia – I was in Paris afterall, where great food reigns. Almost everyone who has had frog legs tell me that it tastes like chicken; I thought it tasted like fish. Perhaps it was overcooked or maybe it was the sautéing that did it but it was rather mediocre. And to think so many frogs had to be sacrificed to prepare a dishful of this bland, flaky fish-like…thing (momentary loss for words to describe something so horrendous). At least the service was friendly and attentive, and the place clean.

—

Paris wouldn’t be Paris without sidewalk cafés popping up at every corner you turn. What is it about a particular café that lures in more people than others? The one I went to was stuffed with customers while the ones at its sides had noticeably less patrons. Parisians love their spring but they love socializing at outdoor cafés on a beautiful spring day even more. With hawk-like sharp eyes, customers wait patiently for a free table and as soon as one was available, they would approach it with staccato-quick steps, almost as if they were playing a courteous game of musical chairs. Luckily, we were able to score ourselves a table outdoors and following our guide’s recommendation, ordered the hot chocolate. The steaming liquid came in a pot and as our waitress poured the hot chocolate into our cups, I realized it was so thick it almost looked like fudge. It reminded me of one friend who used to eat eight pumps of pure hot fudge at an ice cream parlor. Yes, you got that right, eight pumps of fudge sans ice cream. She would’ve loved this hot chocolate. We tried to finish the sugary rich hot drink and it filled up three more cups before it was completely gone, by which I was practically banging my head on the table from the sugar rush.

To accompany our drinks, we ordered crêpes with sugar and fresh fruits. Two pieces of crêpes came on matching china as our cups, and ample amounts of giant strawberry halves and full-bodied raspberries were scattered over the crêpes. It was deliciously light and the fruits, with their natural sweetness and tanginess, were perfect complements to the thin pancakes.

—

Speaking of France, we probably can’t escape the world-famous brand of champagne, Moët & Chandon. Located in Épernay in the Champagne-Ardenne region looms the Moët & Chandon estate, where thousands of bottles of champagne are stored and aged in chalk cellars 30 meters underground. I felt a sense of austerity settle over me as I entered the elaborately decorated estate. In actuality, it wasn’t all that plushy but the setting around me just gave off the air of being elegant, so much so that I felt like if I made the slightest noise, they would all condemn me.

The estate offers guided tours, which I attended, and it started off with a short video explaining the history of the Moët family and how it merged with the Chandon family later on. The video lasted for the best of 15 minutes, after which the tour guide came back to lead us down the cellar where the temperature and humidity are controlled year-round. The cellar stretches for 28 kilometers and has little alleyways that lead off to different sections where champagne of all ages are stored. The bottles are placed horizontally on top of each other and Helen, our guide, explained the different processes involved in making champagne (and as explained in the handout provided by Moët & Chandon):

First, the grapes are harvested by hand into 3-kg baskets and then transferred to bigger 40kg-baskets. Then, the grapes are pressed by exerting controlled pressure to ensure that good quality juices and aroma are obtained. The juice is then fermented, forming still wine. Next comes the blending stage where the qualities of the wine can be adjusted by blending. Now, it is ready for bottling and the bottles are stored horizontally on wooden slats. The bottles are kept for a period of time in partial darkness to allow the wine to mature. During this step, the yeast inside the wine catalyzes a second fermentation process that creates the bubbles in champagne. Once the wines are mature, the sediments in the bottles are cleared through a process called remuage, which places the bottles in a wooden plank with holes (called pupitres) for placing the bottle’s necks pointing slightly downwards, so that sediments can collect at the neck of the bottles. Now that the sediments have settled, only the necks of the bottles are frozen, therefore trapping the sediments in ice, and the ice is ejected by the natural pressure occurred upon opening the bottle, a process called degorgement. It’s pure genius! (Writing this almost reminds me of the lab reports I used to write in high school!) Finally, liqueur d’expédition, or dosage, is added to the wine as finishing touches. Dosage is a syrupy mixture of sugar and wine from the company’s reserves to add sweetness to the champagne. The bottles are corked and stored for four months before labelling.

Perhaps, the best part of the tour was when we were led up some wooden steps onto a different level with a few doors at the side. Helen opened one of the doors and suddenly, we found ourselves in a dimly lit room with glasses of champagne for tasting! The clear, pale golden liquid with fizzy bubbles and a hint of sourness went down easily but sure enough, my face was flaming after just one glass. Ugh, alcohol and I just don’t mix well.

—

*Editor’s note: I agree with K, I didn’t feel good about ending a great entry with such a BAD ending, so here’s a re-write…

Luxembourg
Luxembourg is such a small country that we only stopped for lunch and drove right on through it. One of the famous landmarks we past was the Gëlle Fra, which means Golden Lady (depicting the statue of a golden lady on top of the stone obelisk). This memorial was set up in 1923 to commemorate those who fought in WWI. The memorial is said to symbolize resistance and freedom to the people of Luxembourg and is located in Constitution Square, in the southern parts of Luxembourg.

Categories: Travels
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