Editors Picks
Steam lifts from a bowl of clear pork broth, and a spoonful of chopped pickled greens slides in. The broth shifts at once, its richness suddenly cut by a sharp, clean sourness that sits high and bright on the tongue. The greens have softened in the heat but keep a faint, springy crunch. Someone leans…
The cart glows at the edge of the lane just as the heat of the day finally loosens. A woman fans the coals with a flattened piece of cardboard, and the embers brighten orange under a row of skewers. Fat slides off the pork, hits the charcoal, and hisses upward in a thin curl of…
Steam rises from the pot, and a woman lifts a banana leaf over the open flame, turning it once, twice, until its stiff green softens and the surface goes glossy and pliant. She wipes it down with a damp cloth, then spoons hot rice into its center while the grains still steam. The leaf releases…
A wok sits over a low flame, and a handful of raw sticky rice slides across its dry surface. No oil, no water—nothing but heat and patience. The grains pale, then blush amber, then deepen toward the color of weak tea. Someone shakes the pan in a slow, even rhythm, listening as much as watching.…
By Eda Wong for Eat Drink Asia. The wok station is already hot when the cook lowers the flame. In the narrow back of a Singapore zi char kitchen, the air smells of butter, curry leaves, and the faint mineral edge of salted duck egg. A metal spatula presses cooked yolks through oil until they…
At a narrow lunch table in Bangkok, the bottle arrives before the rice has stopped steaming. It is clear glass, refilled many times, its plastic cap slightly stained from years of fingers and heat. Beside it sits a small bowl of sliced chillies floating in amber liquid, the cut edges pale and sharp. Someone nudges…
The narrow alleyway in Yau Ma Tei smells of charcoal and dark soy sauce, a thick coastal humidity pressing against the glow of the stoves. An elderly cook stands before a row of blackened sand-clay pots, a long metal tong in his right hand. He does not watch the flames; he listens to them. There…
The rain taps lightly against the glass of a quiet Japanese diner, turning the pavement outside a slick, silver grey. Inside, the bowl arrives with steam first, then colour: pumpkin orange, aubergine purple, and a dark curve of chicken set against a broth that looks too light to carry so much heat. The spoon touches…
The monsoon rain drums a steady, heavy rhythm against the fogged windows of a narrow tavern in Jongno, muffling the chaotic pulse of the city outside. Inside, the air hangs warm, thick with the scent of toasted mung beans and a subtle, yeasty tang. A dented brass kettle tips forward, and a chalk-white, opaque liquid…
The sharp winter wind rattles the low stone walls of a Jeju Island kitchen, but inside, the air is thick with steam and the deeply marine scent of boiling kelp. An elderly woman stands by a bubbling steel pot, watching the dark green fronds swell and twist in the rolling water. She adds a splash…