Sangers (and not sangers) - the Oz version

Last year we travelled the west coast of America and I ate a lot of sandwiches. Then I came back and wrote about how much I loved eating sandwiches. This year, after our trip to Australia, I'm doing pretty much the same thing, my love of carbs undiminished. I'm nothing if not consistent.

This is probably also going to serve as a bit of a round-up post, so I can document as much edible stuff as possible before I forget/lose interest. Which means including anything tasty I ate that might (or might not) have a passing resemblance to a sandwich. All while inventing more and more outlandish caveats for it's inclusion; and for that I make no apologies.

The first entry may seem like a Not Sandwich, but actually it was a Sandwich. At least that's how it was described on the feasting menu at Nomad, a contemporary/middle eastern restaurant in a converted warehouse in swanky Surry Hills. In an ideal world I would have the time and patience to write about the whole meal I enjoyed here with the family - we had the feasting menu, and it was all excellent, but in the interests of brevity, and sanity, I will start (and finish) at the end.

On the menu the ice cream sandwich with olive oil parfait, halva crumble, pistachio and honey sounded nice enough, in reality it was pretty bloody amazing. I've just sat staring at the picture for a while, trying to think of superlatives, but for once I'm lost for words.

Smoky, nutty, sweet, creamy, crunchy; you get the general idea. The magical biscuitty stuff that sandwiched the ice cream was particularly good.  After the full meal that proceeded this, we all still hungrily wolfed down two sharing plates, fighting over the scraps. Which probably says it all.

If the dessert at Nomad self-identified as a sandwich, I have no problems naming Black Star Pastry's watermelon and strawberry creation a sandwich too. Although it has been named the world's most instragrammed cake (which kind of flies in the face of my sandwich assertion), I still maintain it should be included for the simple reason it does actually sandwich a layer of fresh watermelon between two layers of pastry cream and sponge. All topped off with dried rose petals and strawberries.

On the face of it, I have to say it sounded all kinds of wrong. Fresh melon abutting fresh dairy was already curdling in my thoughts. Bits of dead flower, looking like something my Nan used to give me for Christmas, strewn on top. Obviously I was very incorrect and the whole thing seemed to balance together beautifully, as well as looking utterly beautiful. Yes, of course I posted a pic for the 'Gram.

People often say surf and turf is overrated; people are wrong. And they certainly haven't tried the chorizo and prawn roll from the Mojo Picon stand at the Entertainment Quarter in Sydney's Moore Park. My sister wanted us to go there just so we could try these, and it just proves good taste runs in the family.

This crispy roll, think Spanish bocadillo, is stuffed with grilled chunks of smoky fresh chorizo and topped with fat prawns, lime and coriander. I also added a healthy squirt of the eponymous mojo picon sauce, garlic, cumin, smoked paprika, chilli and olive oil. This was so generously filled, the Ewing and I managed to share one between us and barely even squabble over who should get the errant prawns that had fallen overboard.

Is a pizza a sandwich? Lets be honest, definitely not (maybe, arguably, a calzone…) But with my sister moving house imminently, it was only right we should have one final pizza from RocketBoy, the pizza place that’s currently about 100m from her door. As you can see, we were certainly in need of some carbs, after a Monday beer crawl around Marrickville had left us in a rather parlous state.

My favourite of their pizzas is the the Malabar, topped with wild Aussie prawns, marinaded in chilli and coconut, plus chorizo, onion, parsley and lemon. Seafood is not normally my first choice on a pie (although who doesn’t love tinned tuna and red onion on deep pan after a night on the town) but it seems a rather apt choice when in Oz; well, in the absence of a Barbie to chuck the prawns on, anyway. 

It’s very good pizza, if perhaps not gold tier, but for a takeaway pizza it’s pretty decent, generously topped and fair value. Plus it’s proximity is a bonus. Although it seems my sister's new gaff also has a branch of Rocketboy around the corner (obviously one of the first things I checked). I’m going to overlook the fact everyone else ganged up on me and made me watch the Bachelor in Paradise when eating it. Although, even that couldn’t put me off.

Mr Crackles, on Oxford Street, Sydney’s main gay drag, has become a must visit on our trips to Oz, although I’ve still yet to visit while inebriated (draconian lock out laws currently prohibit most late night drinking in the surrounding area, but you can still get your pork fix until 4.30 in the morning on Friday and Saturday. Oh, and Mr Crackles is open too…).

They are best known for the ‘Classic Crackles’, a crispy baguette/ciabatta-ish hybrid with five spice roast pork belly, mayo and a Vietnamese salad. Which is what I always order, and this time was no different. Along with an extra cup of crackling, which we took to my sister as a reward for getting through a morning's shopping expedition with the kids in tow.

We also also tried the crackles salad, which is the same but no bread and more green stuff. It’s a majestic sandwich; crunchy and salty and fatty and enormously messy to eat while hovering over the high benches than run up both sides of the shop. Part of its joyous, unbridled, delicious appeal.

While it remained as delicious as ever I might have, wait for it, actually preferred the salad. It’s certainly easier to eat. The crusty bread, as good as it is (and it is good), can’t help but detract from the perfection of the wobbly chunks of pork belly and crisp crackling. While the bread may be dispensable, the one thing I think it does miss is a hit of chilli sauce. A little bit of zing would help cut through the richness nicely.

For the Ewing's birthday I took her on an all-dayer that ended up with dinner at Saint Peter (blog post to come) but started with an unexpectedly excellent lunch and drinks at the CBD branch of Continental Deli.

Known for their deli meats and cheeses and cocktails in a can, we both started with a Mar-tinny, which came with 3 green olives, plus an extra gilda (olive green chilli and anchovy on a stick) each, for good measure. An excellent start to proceedings.

As well as some outstanding Aussie washed rind cheese with rhubarb chutney, tiny little bitter olives and crackers, and a plate of wafer thin mortadella with picked chillies and cornichons we also had a genuine, legit sandwich in the form of their meatball sub.

This was a behemoth of crisp ciabatta bread, stuffed with a trio of giant balls, cooked in a tomato sauce and finished with a smattering of freshly grated Parmesan. Plus crisps, plus more pickles. This was a fine sandwich, although I felt the ethereal texture of the meatballs and the pillowy bread became a little samey. A situation that improved with the addition of some of the crisps to the sarnie.

Obviously there has to be a burger somewhere (definitely a sandwich), and this time we schlepped all the way over the Harbour Bridge to North Sydney to find it. Which also provided the perfect opportunity for a sun-kissed selfie or two.

Our destination was Five Points - only open for limited hours, Monday to Friday and offering a limited menu of five burgers, named after the five boroughs of New York, plus three milkshakes, and sides of chips and a green salad.

To be honest, when your burgers are this good there's not much else that you need. I chose the Bronx - a grilled beef patty, double cheese, bacon, onion jam, tomato sauce, pickles, american mustard, aioli and iceberg; and it was one of the best burgers I have had for a long time. Chips (a bit chunkier than fries, but still suitably thin enough to go alongside a burger) were also excellent, although the Ewing found her salted caramel shake a bit too thin and too sweet (even for her).

The lamington - a sponge cake dipped in a thin chocolate icing and rolled in coconut, often sandwiched with jam or cream - is a stone cold Aussie classic. It's also one of my favourite cakes and I had heard the best ones in town were to be found at Flour and Stone in Woolloomooloo.

The intel was right as this lamington was utterly outstanding. The Flour and Stone version is dipped in panna cotta (combating the potential dryness of the sponge and coconut, the greatest enemy of the lammo) before being filled with berry compote and rolled in dark chocolate and coconut flakes. The whole thing feels heavy in your hand but ethereally light as you eat it. Made even better if consumed to a back drop of sunny Woolloomooloo Harbour.

Another must visit since my brother-in-law took us on our last trip to Sydney is Marrickville Pork Roll; a tiny shop front in the Inner-West, with an almost constant queue outside, from where they deftly turn out what seems like an endless stream of what have been called the best pork rolls in town.

Essentially an analgised name for the banh mi, the pork roll is a Vietnamese sandwich that originated in the south of the country after baguettes were introduced in the mid-19 century by the French. Traditionally made with rice flour, which makes them even lighter and crisper, they are then stuffed with an array of ingredients that normally comprised of one or more meats (classically pork belly, pork sausage and pate), mayonnaise and salad including cucumber slices, coriander, pickled carrots and radish, and chillies.

While Marrickville is a little far flung from Central Sydney to come for a sandwich (they have an outpost in Steam Mill Lane now, and while I haven’t visited, I’m not sure I could be disloyal to the original), it makes the perfect stop on our (second) inner-west beer crawl.

One of my absolute favourite things to do when I’m in town. Certainly my favourite thing to do for six bucks. This time I think I enjoyed it even more than before; the airy baguette ably holding a full cargo of meat and veg plus a slathering of mayo and chopped chilli. This is truly one of my very favourite sandwiches I have eaten; and I’ve eaten a lot of sandwiches.

The pies have it

As I haven’t even started writing up our most recent Oz adventures (I’m currently battling with a backlog of photos, but it’s coming), it does seem a little premature to be talking about how much I miss it. But I do; the place and, most especially, the people. Something that gets more acute with every visit. In fact I was beginning to worry, given the amazing time we had, that getting back to the UK would seem like some terrible anti-climax.

Thankfully we were greeted on our descent into Heathrow with stunning views along the river Thames as it meandered through the heart of London. Making my heart beat a little faster as I picked out all the iconic landmarks along the route. And, as we neared our destination, the spectacle of the sun rising over the endless green fields sent a shiver down my spine. Although that could have been because I couldn't turn that irritating blower thing off.

In order to make the culture shock seem a little less painful, I decided we should make the most of the streak of glorious weather that heralded our return - including sneaking in a trip to see the last of the bluebells at Ashridge - by immersing ourselves fully in the most British of pastimes; pies, pints and sitting outside at the pub. If anything was going to lift us from our post-holiday malaise I felt it was going to be best bitter and meat and potatoes.

The first pie we tried to help ease ourselves back into familiar waters – yes, the Aussies are famously fans of a pastry product, but served with ketchup and a cold lager, which isn’t quite the same thing at all – was at the Flower Pot in Aston, about half way between Henley and Hurley.

The Ewing hadn’t experienced its eccentric delights before, and was very taken with all the eclectic collection of taxidermy in the dining room, including giant carp and a couple of boar heads mounted on the wall.

I was more interested in the beer. As a Brakspear pub, they offer a roster of their real ales, including one of my favourite traditional English ales; Brakspear Bitter. This was in perfect condition, bitter-sweet with a backbone of malt and a gentle floral note from the traditional goldings and fuggles hops. 

Unsparkled, it still had a pleasingly tight head and creaminess and, at a modest 3.4 percent, it meant I could sneak an extra pint in while waiting for dinner. Why be a #craftwanker, when you can be a real ale bore.

For me, late spring is the pretty much the perfect time of year to be outside; not yet too hot, just before the wasps really get going and as the tree pollen count is winding down. The perfect time to enjoy a pub garden, and the Flower Pot has a decent one – large with plenty of tables with sun shades and, on our visit, lots of well-behaved dogs, who seemed to be enjoying the sunshine as much as we were.

Shortly we were also joined by two giant wedges of homemade pie from their pie board - one game (pheasant, partridge and turkey) and one rabbit – both served with chips, peas, and lashings of gravy. Firstly, and most importantly, they possessed a crust both top and bottom. Secondly, it was shortcrust, the supreme baked pie pastry (if we’re not including suet pastry, which is more for a steamed pudding) and thirdly the crust was in turns both crispy and stodgy, in the perfect ratio.

Both pies were excellent, being filled generously with chunks of juicy meat in a creamy, well-seasoned sauce. We didn’t encounter any lead shot, but there were a couple of bits of bone in with the bugs, so beware if you shovel your dinner down with rapacity, as I do. Chips were perfectly OK, and generously portioned and who doesn’t love a frozen pea.

Another great thing about the Flower Pot is its proximity to the Thames - my Dad used to meet his rugby mates here for a pint before meandering up the river to the Henley Regatta. The return journey later is one I'm sure wasn't without incident....

Our trip was far more staid. Wondering up to Hambleden Lock, on the other side of the water, all while dodging the mayflies and marvelling at the length of our shadows the slowly setting sun cast into the meadow. 

A few days later we found ourselves in another quintessentially English corner of the country; Wimborne Minster. This time it was to take Granddad out for lunch at the Stocks Inn in nearby Furzehill. We arrived just as the sun was emerging to be greeted by the sight of two men, wearing wide-brimmed floppy straw hats, thatching the roof. Peak English summer. Apart from the part about the sun emerging; which was still a great surprise. Even more so given that it was also the beginning of a bank holiday weekend.

To drink I started with a pint of Ringwood, brewed just down the road. In all honesty, it wasn’t in great nick, tasting flat and a touch vinegary. Far better was the second pint; the veritable Timothy Taylor Landlord, a Yorkshire bitter than seemed to have travelled far better. Landlord remains a perennial favourite for a reason and supping my pint, with its notes of grass and hay, while sitting in the verdant garden watching the thatcher’s at work, it seemed particularly appropriate.

The second pie of the week was Dorset beef and ale. Again, it was a double-cruster and again made with shortcrust pastry. It was a powerfully flavoured pie with a deep, sticky gravy and big chunks of meat. If I had a criticism, it had dried out around the edges and on the bottom crust. While I don’t mind my meat with some chew, the pastry wasn’t quite as squidgy as I like. 

Chips were, again, perfectly OK. There was also a medley of veg, slightly soggy, but of course I showed willing and finished them all, despite no promise of pudding at the end of it. Even Grandad was too stuffed for crumble, although he did take down an entire lamb shank with mash and asparagus.

Of course, while both pies were fabulous, they really weren’t the point here. I was far more interested in ingesting several pints of cellar temperature real ale, after all the schooners of tasteless suds I’d drunk in Oz. Oh, and spending some time in the bucolic English outdoors with some of my very favourite people. There really is no place like home.

Thai hot

So hey, we’ve been away and now we’re back and I’m super excited to write up all the things we have eaten and drunk over the last month sleep. Of course I (half) jest. As much as I love sleep, I do also want to record some of the culinary highlights of our trip. If only to be able to point my wife to them as a reminder in a couple of weeks when she has somehow contrived to pretty much forget everything we have just done. She can tell you multiple facts about marsupials and the new Spurs stadium, so I’m guessing it’s just spending time with me that she finds unmemorable.

Anyway, we kicked things off with five days in Bangkok, a city we had both visited, but never together. Although with my last visit being as a green teenager, in my knock-off Ralph Lauren Polo shirt and treasured Wayfarers (still a strong look I like to rock, nothing much changes), I was very excited to see how the city had changed. In particular I was excited to enjoy some of its legendary street food, still reputed by many to be the best in the world, as well as adding to my foreign crisp collection. Possibly the highlight of any trip abroad.

Our first stop, after a quick wash and brush up at the hotel, was Boat Noodle Alley, so named as they were served from canoes that traversed the cities waterways to customers on the shore. They are now, more prosaically, mostly served from dry land all across Bangkok but are particularly associated with a stretch of restaurants just north of the Victory Monument.

In keeping with tradition they are still thickened with pig or beef blood and served in the tiny bowls, which originally stopped the precious cargo spilling in the water as they were handed across to the customer from the boat.

You can also chose from a variety of noodles to have with your broth; including thin or thick rice noodles and egg noodles; other common ingredients in boat noodles are garlic, fried garlic, radish, cinnamon, bean sprouts, parsley, morning glory, and chilli and they are often topped with crackling or fried wontons for crunch.

After choosing our restaurant - the first one we got to as you cross the bridge, we were tired and needed feeding - we ordered all the noodles, including both beef and pork versions and yen ta fo, a sweeter, pink broth with wide rice noodles and bean curd.

These ended up being my favourites, alongside a version listed as 'tom yum', with egg noodles and barbecue pork, although all were stellar, with the blood being a lot more subtle than I expected. We finished with traditional ceramic dishes of coconut pudding, which the Ewing enjoyed more than I did, although I was struggling after eight bowls of boat noodles.

The following morning we took a river boat to visit Wat Arun, the temple of the dawn, but before hand we dealt with the important question of the day; what we were going to eat for lunch, with a visit to the Wang Lang food market.

While there was a multitude of food carts, selling all sorts of fascinating, and often unidentifiable, ingredients, we ended up at the restaurant above, I have absolutely no idea what it's called in English, lured in by the display of seafood and smell of grilling pork.

As you can see we didn't skimp on the ordering, ordering a range of dishes including deep-fried crab omelette, sticky rice flavoured and coloured with pea flower, frozen watermelon smoothies, and no less that three different types of som tam/som tam-related salads.

Traditionally made with unripe shredded green papaya, it can also feature various other unripe veg, including mangoes, apples, cucumbers, carrots, and, like many dishes of the region, balances sour, hot, salt, and sweet. Often served with sticky rice, grilled chicken or pork crackling, it's a wondrous combination of textures and tastes.

Of the three versions we tried - with grilled pork neck; three types of shrimp; and sausage and peanuts - I think the latter just about edged it. More like a kind of Spam, the chunks of soft sausage mixed perfectly with the crunchy nuts and occasional bursts of searing heat from the birds eye chilli, all doused in lime juice and fish sauce.

My views on foreign McDonald's are well documented but, for the uninitiated, I'm very for them. Especially when you've just arrived somewhere/are drunk. I'm especially in to unique menu items or individual quirks, as can be seen here by Ronald McDonald (and my wife, on the right) adopting the wai, or Thai bow.

The item I was both excited and dubious to try was the Mcfried chicken, their version of classic fried chook. How would it stand up to perfection of the mighty Colonel? In the end it exceeded all expectations, with it's beautifully brittle and grease-less carapace, keeping the chicken juicy within, and a hint of chilli heat. In fact, it was reminiscent of the spicy crumb coating on a KFC hot wing and all the better for it.

The samurai pork burger - featuring teriyaki sauce, lettuce, tomato, onions, and mayo - has become a bit of a cult item since being introduced. It was pretty good, being rather McRib-esque (from memory, it’s been several years since I’ve had the pleasure), although I thought the meat to bun ratio was a little off and could have done with being a double, or a quarter pound patty.

Thai Maccy’ d’s are also known for their fried pies – corn, pineapple and a changing, usually savoury, version such as Thai green curry. Known as the ‘crispy & delicious’ pie. Both of the ones I tried were far better than expected - corn mixed with a kind of vanilla-y custard doesn’t sound like much of a winner, but trust me on this, and the pineapple was both sweet and tart. Even the Ewing, who initially eschewed them, agreed with my assessment after being persuaded to try a bite.

Our first trip to visit Pe Aor for tom kung noodles was thwarted when they were closed for Songkran (heralding the start of the Thai New Year) celebrations. Sad as that was I did find this guy selling what I thought were prayer beads from his hand cart. Further scrutiny showed they were strings of small round sausages, grilled over charcoal flame to order. I think I’ve found my new religion.

Looking for somewhere else for dinner, we chanced upon Phayai Thai, on the same street, a casual, but highly acclaimed Thai Halal restaurant - this is an area densely populated with Thai Muslims, and there are several other halal street food vendors and restaurants in the area – although, from looking at the menu, most of the usual suspects were there. The only thing I really missed was an ice cold beer to wash it down.

One must order, following my pattern of picking the weirdest sounding things on the menu, were the chicken knees. Although the waitress gestured towards her elbows when we ordered them.... Whatever they actually were, the 'knees' were like nothing I've had before. Little nubbins of gristly stuff, covered in batter and deep fried before being doused in sesame seeds and sweet chilli sauce. Strangely addictive, we both polished these off stat.

Even better was the beef larb. Possibly my favourite of all Thai/Lao dishes, larb is a 'meat salad' made from minced meat or fish mixed with fish sauce, lime juice, roasted ground rice, chilli, onion and fresh herbs and served here with raw cabbage and green beans. Clean and light and delicious, although my palate, rapidly acclimatising to the heat, was missing a hit of chilli.

We also enjoyed a simple, but excellent som tam, and this gargantuan sea bass, steamed and served with a fresh and punchy lime and chilli spiked broth. The Ewing was in her element carefully stripping the perfectly poached flesh from the bones and eating with sticky rice and a thicket of fresh herbs. This was a meal for two in it's own right and, offhand, I think it cost about 300 Baht, or about £7.50.

In a town with so many fun, cheap and casual places to eat, not to mention all the food vendors on every street corner, it almost seemed a shame to spend a night in a fancier restaurant. But Thai Niyom came highly recommended by several people, as well as the Michelin Guide, and so we scrubbed up for our most refined meal of the trip.

Luckily refined doesn't mean lacking in flavour, although if something comes with a chilli heat warning in Thailand, sensible folk should probably heed it. As we know, being sensible isn't anything I'm often accused of and the idea of 'stir fried pork with Chanatburi chilli paste - only for the brave', was too intriguing/challenging to pass up.

Yes, it was undoubtedly hot. So hot it turned the Ewing a little hysterical with maniacal laughter when the waitress appeared to ask if everything was ok; as a mixture of tears and beads of sweat rolled down her cheeks. What I found most interesting, however, was the flavour of the chilli paste which was reminiscent of a Caribbean style jerk pork marinade. 

I know there are many naysayers who doubt you can taste flavours in  very spicy food, but this wasn't just a blast of heat. Layers of flavour, including black pepper and kaffir lime leaves, went toe to toe with huge amounts of smoky chillies.

The rest of the meal was similarly flavour-packed, from the smoked coconut iced teas we started with to the cojitos (mojitos made with coconut water) we ended on. Particularly recommended is the Chang Mai combo - a platter of deep fried pork belly, cracklings, fermented sausage, fresh vegetables and green and red relishes for dipping.

We also enjoyed a generous dish of crab fried rice with spring onions, southern style sour yellow curry with sea bass and pickled bamboo shoots; the morning glory with fermented shrimp paste and a pudding of my favourite sticky rice and mango with salted coconut milk.

For our last evening we headed to Chinatown, where the in-your-face smells and sights and sounds of 'old' Bangkok can still be felt. It's really a wondrous place, and a must visit, especially as it gets dark and hundreds of vendors pour onto the streets, with their mobile food carts and fold out tables and chairs, and start frying and grilling and chopping and juicing to create the most delicious dishes .

Two of the most famous stands is T & K Seafood, on the corner of the busy Yarowat Road. Here you sit on plastic chairs at shared trestle tables, while a swarm of hard-working waiters in their distinctive green polo shirts, buzz about serving some of the best fish and seafood in the city.

We started with a deep fried thai-style omelette, stuffed with crab meat, chilli and chives, and served with more chilli sauce; accompanied by ice cold Singha beer. Anyone that regularly reads this blog (hi Mummy P), will know of my ouef-aversion, but I have been slowly easing my self back in over the last few years. This, with it's crispy edges, chunks of sweet seafood and salty, spicy sauce, was doing things to me. Very good things.

We split a portion of smoky, grilled banana shrimp, that had been butterflied and cooked on open coals and served with fresh and fiery red and green chilli sauces. I also ordered the fish cakes (or first of the trip) which the Ewing maintained she didn't like, but then proceeded to happily wolf down when they arrived. I'm a big fan of a bouncy, well-spiced fish cake, and these were excellent dipped in a dish of classic sweet chilli sauce.

The yellow curry with squid was impeccable; rich coconut sauce, with subtle spicing, stuffed full of and tender chunks of cephalopod and one the very best things we ate on our trip. Alongside was simple sticky jasmine rice and more stir fired morning glory, our go to veg on this visit, with funky fermented shrimp and red chilli.

As wonderful (and reasonable) as the food was, the real highlight was the view from our table; listening to the throaty roar of mopeds and tuk tuks and the general hustle and bustle as Chinatown sprung into life, all while enjoying a stunning sunset over this wonderful corner of town.

My absolutely favourite Thai dessert, in fact one of my favourites full stop, is thai sticky rice, served warm and topped with fresh mango and slightly salted coconut milk Even better, we timed our visit with peak mango season, which are the summer months of April and May in Thailand.

In honesty, this was probably my least favourite of all three mango sticky rice I tried on our fleeting visit, but only because the mango was perfectly ripe, as you can see from the glowing orange colour, when I prefer my fruit a little greener. Whatever, I would happily eat this forever and ever and it remains one of my very favourite puddings.

Our second attempt to visit Pe Aor, on a final morning in town, worked out perfectly as it was a short stroll from the hotel (well, according to Google Maps, the reality was a mile in brutal sunshine, in the heat of the day. Mad dogs and Englishmen).

Of course what you really want after a sweaty schlep is a nice refreshing beverage or, if you’re my wife, several. While I’m almost certain I’ve regaled everyone with this story many times before, one of my most enduring memories is when we first started to go out and went to a Mexican restaurant for dinner, where she proceeded to order no less than three drinks. Not one after each other, which would have seemed far more moderate, but all at once, just as we arrived.

Some things never change, although this time she stuck at two and, as her habits have obviously rubbed off over the intervening decade, I ordered a brace too.  Between us we enjoyed the classic Thai iced tea - a fantastically refreshing drink - sweet, milky and a little bitter, coloured a glorious orange shade from tamarind – strong, sweet iced coffee; fresh sugar cane juice; and bael, or wood apple juice. Which was fun to try, but very sweet.

She also ordered a starter of crab spring rolls, long thin cigarillos of crustacean wrapped in a very light filo style pastry. I was unfussed by these at first, but happily tucked in when I realised the filling in each one comprised of a whole crab leg.

As good as these were, we were here for the main act, the tom yum kung nodle soup that can be ordered with a variety of different seafood accoutrements, including a massive sharing bowl stuffed full of lobster, white fish and mussels.

We went with the classic river prawns, with an extra order of river prawns on the side, plus squid for me and an egg for the Ewing. The sweet seafood complimented the rich and slightly sour soup, enriched even further by the the addition of shrimp head oil. Simply outstanding and a bowl can be yours for about two quid.

We hadn’t eaten a single ice cream during our whole trip, something that seemed a little remiss due to the fact the weather was sweltering and we were on holiday. Is there a better combination of factors? As if in answer to our prayers we happened upon a vendor on our way back to catch the sky train to the airport. Just a guy with a small cart selling a single flavour, coconut, with the option of adding condensed milk and peanuts (yes to both), and absolutely perfect.

The heavens aligned even further with the Insta-worthy backdrop of Thai flags that I took a picture against. Of course the reality didn’t show the Ewing and I bickering over who’s turn it was to have a bite (sharing is caring) before it liquefied in the intense heat, all while lugging our heavy bags behind us. Oh the glamour of being an international jet-setter. Next stop Down Under.