I remember going to her house after school when we were in the fourth or fifth grade. She lived close enough to our elementary school that we could walk--this always impressed me, as my house was a good ten miles outside of town and you couldn't walk anywhere. Walking home, we'd pass a little corner store. Sometimes, we'd pop in and wander through the isles, loose change burning a hole in our pockets. Rarely, though, would we buy anything. Because we knew what was waiting for us at her house.
We would usually sprint the last block to her house, and explode through the front door. Our backpacks (Jansports, with the straps as loose as they would go, of course) would get flung onto the dining room table and we'd scurry into the sunroom (another novel concept for me). We'd scramble onto the overstuffed floral print couch, and on the wicker coffee table, waiting for us, would be an assortment of cookies and two huge glasses of whole milk. I've never been a fan of milk, so my glass always went largely untouched... but you can bet I did a number on those cookies!
Everything in this house tasted exotic to me. Even the air had a different tang to it--like it had traveled with my friend's mom, all the way from Thailand, and was somehow spicier than our boring old Oregon air. Plain chocolate chip cookies somehow oozed with even more chocolately goodness. Lemon cookies forced my lips to purse together in a pucker so tight it almost hurt--but hurt in a delicious way. Oatmeal, which I usually detested, was creamy and smooth, the raisins and nuts a burst of flavor and an added texture that complimented the unfamiliar spice that the cookies had. It was as if everything had the underlying sweetness of coconut, and the surprising zing of an unknown pepper.
Even though my foodie forays into Thai cuisine never broke past cookies, the occasional bowl of sticky rice and spicy pork and veggies, all things Thai bring me right back to that sunroom and an overflowing plate of cookies. I've since lost touch with this friend, but I do wonder if my house was as intoxicating to her as hers was to me. I wonder if the dinners of Hamburger Helper or snacks of cottage cheese and crackers were as flavorful and complex as the meals we shared at her house.
When I tried this recipe, the flavors and smells it created took me right back to these memories. It was like an instant teleport, back in time, to that house with those people. The spices that lingered in the air in my sixth grade memory permeated my own house, as I mimicked many of the flavors I remembered, even if only by smell, from my childhood visits.
Spicy Thai Coconut Soup with Shrimp
adapted from allrecipes.com
- 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
- 2 tablespoons grated fresh ginger
- 1 stalk lemon grass, minced
- 2 teaspoons red curry paste
- 4 cups chicken broth
- 3 tablespoons fish sauce
- 1 tablespoon brown sugar
- 3 (13.5 ounce) cans coconut milk
- 1/2 pound fresh shiitake mushrooms, sliced
- 1 pound medium shrimp - peeled and deveined
- 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
- sea salt to taste
- 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
- Heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat. Cook and stir the ginger, lemongrass, and curry paste in the heated oil for 1 minute.
- Slowly pour the chicken broth over the mixture, stirring continually.
- Stir in the fish sauce and brown sugar; simmer for 15 minutes.
- Stir in the coconut milk and mushrooms; cook and stir until the mushrooms are soft, about 5 minutes.
- Add the shrimp; cook until no longer translucent about 5 minutes. Stir in the lime juice; season with salt; garnish with cilantro.
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