Traditional Recipes of Laos: Rebuilding One Recipe at a Time
Written by: Channapha Khamvongsa
Edited by: Darby Dyer
This year marks the 65th Anniversary of the death of Chaeunslip Phia Sing, co-author of Traditional Recipes of Laos, with Alan Davidson. Although published in 1981, the recipes were originally penned by Phia Sing beginning in 1966 and completed in 1967, just before his death that same year. Phia Sing’s instructions of dishes, which were served in the Royal Palace, are the first known written recipes of Lao cuisine.
Photo: The original version (1981) even included a bookmark with measurement conversions, including kilos/grams to lb/oz and cm/mm to inches, but the most fascinating and useful are the commonplace measurements that are rarely converted.
I first came across Traditional Recipes of Laos in 2002, when I traveled to Montpellier, France, after studying in England for the summer. I was staying with a Lao French family, and one afternoon while browsing through their bookshelves, full of French literature, I spotted the beige spine of Traditional Recipes of Lao. As I flipped through the pages, full of familiar ingredients and dishes such as, or lam sin kuay (a water buffalo meat stew), or keng no mai (soup made with bamboo shoots and yanang leaves), and jum som phak kad (pickled mustard), I was filled with excitement. There were also dishes I’ve never had, like pa fok, (minced fish mixture cooked in banana leaf packets), or kanab dok king (ginger flower grilled in banana leaf), and loem som (pickled fish roe membrane cooked with vegetables).
The book had side by side Lao and English texts, gorgeous pencil etchings of ingredients and cookery, and explanations of Lao eating practices. I knew I had come across something really precious. The host family had received it from their cousins in London. They said they never really used it, and seeing my enthusiasm, gifted it to me.
My excitement in discovering this book rested on the fact that such scant literature exists on Lao culture, especially in English. People in Laos have historically relied on the ease by which cultural traditions are transmitted – orally and through daily rituals of going to the market, having meals with family, visiting the temple, or attending a boun (merit-making ceremonies), the flow of knowledge is frequent and bountiful. For a country that has relied on a seamless and organic flow of knowledge, writing down information is not common practice. Traditions are often passed down through daily practices.
But for me and the refugee population that left Laos and the estimated millions that reside outside of the country, Traditional Recipes of Laos is not only a rare artifact, but it’s also a physical manifestation of an elusive past. In finding refuge, Laotian refugees had not only sought physical safety but mental and spiritual respite as well. Webster’s Dictionary defines, “The re- in refuge means basically ‘back’ or ‘backward’ rather than ‘again’; thus, a refugee is someone who is ‘fleeing backward.’” It is this idea of “fleeing backwards” that describes the endless search by people with Lao heritage for what came before. Before war, before refuge and before the disruption of families and communities. It is the nostalgia of an elusive life and time -- often not discussed by their parents -- that motivates younger generations to seek and connect with their history and identities.
Lao food is central to recovering cultural memory and rebuilding community. It is a gateway of both ease and deliciousness by which people of the Lao diaspora connect with their past. But “fleeing backwards” is merely the first step. Connecting to the past through food is a vibrant, living practice of one’s culture. And it is the present nature that keeps the culture and people evolving. The embrace and sharing of Lao cuisine has disrupted the nostalgia bubble and propelled the Laotian community forward, no longer stunted by the past. Lao food has facilitated remembering and discovering of traditions and culture, but it has also inspired innovation of Lao recipes and practices, grounded in the places in which people from Laos have sought refuge. In countries like the US, Canada, France and Germany, Canada, Lao food restaurants and businesses are preserving and innovating Lao cuisine.
Perhaps Phia Sing knew he carried valuable knowledge or sensed inevitable and seismic shifts happening in his beloved country, which led him to spend his last days meticulously recording the beloved dishes of Laos. What we know for certain is that with the popularity of Lao cuisine globally, the book has served as both reference and inspiration for a new generation of chefs and Lao food enthusiasts.
Leading chefs in America and elsewhere, including the mother of Lao American cuisine, Seng Luangrath, have referenced the importance of Traditional Recipes of Laos, to their knowledge of Lao food. In Luang Prabang, the acclaimed Paste restaurant serves numerous modern dishes inspired by Sing’s recipes. Others have written about the rarity of written Lao recipes. They are simultaneously seeking answers from the past and using the book as an anchor to create a respectful take on heritage and propel the cuisine forward.
In the next blog, I will trace the fascinating history of how Phia Sing’s recipes were nearly lost in the ashes of war, if not for the wife, the prince and the ambassador.