Uncle Kee, my landlord in Rhek Thum, is a kind, honest, and generous soul. He’s about ninety when we first meet, and never asks for a lease. Not even a deposit. And, he kept bringing me food every week. I remember thinking at the time, what could go wrong?

Nothing. I am a positive thinker.

Of course, I was raised to return such kindnesses, and I do so with whatever is at my disposal.

What he unfailingly brings me, however, is not shrimp étouffée over blackened red snapper, nor leftover Indian curries. It’s not lasagna or seafood tacos. And never gyros on handmade pita slathered with homemade zatziki.

No.

It’s fruit from his orchards.

Thing is, outside of som-o, I’m not much into Thai fruit.

No, sir, life is too short. Instant gratification takes too long. Back home I would pick an apple off a tree out back without breaking stride, or snag a plum from the fridge on the way out the door, and bite right into it.

Crisp apples and sweet pears. Fleshy plums, juicy apricots, and perfumy peaches.

It’s simple back home.

Pick. Bite. Enjoy.

How hard is that? It even leaves a hand free to drive.

Or type!

Crunch.

With an apple or peach, there’s no peeling back of fingernails while trying to strip military-grade casings for a speck of seed-filled, fairly flavorless flesh inside.

And never back home did any girlfriend of mine spend an entire freaking afternoon sitting on the floor, mumbling, maniacally hacking away with a meat cleaver at the thorny rind of a ten-kilo specimen of Fukashima mutant produce! Just to spend another two hours and five liters of oil frying up chips that will barely fill a teacup.

That notorious tree in the Garden of Eden? Maybe God wanted the fall of man. If not, surely that tree would have dangled durians.

Then beautiful women would still be strolling about blissfully unaware they were naked.

Uncle Kee mostly likes to bring me bunches of longon. Even just harvested, these miserable things already look out-of-date.

But I wai and smile and say, Oh-what-a-nice-surprise-thank-you-so-very-much-khrap and stuff ‘em into an opaque bag for the next morning. Then I wake up early and once I hear the truck rumbling my way, sneak them curbside at 5 a.m.

Ten minutes later they are indeed, long gone, and I’m back inside baking Uncle and his wife oatmeal-raisin cookies before the sun comes up.

Seems almost every week Uncle Kee brings me something he has yet to see me eat.

Just last week he delivers another laundry basket of rambutan. Can you make a pie with rambutan? No! Can you can rambutan? Hell, no! Rambutan relish? Uh-uh. Sun-dried rambutan? Ha! Rambutan sauce over ice cream? I don’t think so.

After you manage to peel off a centimeter of hairy purple deterrent designed to protect its bounty from a full-scale alien invasion, there is barely a millimeter of flesh. And this flesh is very attached to its seed. If you want to lose weight while eating, try rambutan. Peeling one expends more calories than it contains.

I stick these in one of those opaque bags I keep handy, place them next to the front door, and set my alarm for the next morning. Then I open my fridge, grab a plate, and walk ten feet to Uncle’s house. Offer him my last bowl of spicy Cajun seafood gumbo. Something I lovingly spent hours on a few days before—the roux alone takes all morning—and leftovers are better than fresh.

He does a poor job of feigning surprise, takes a long sniff and nods approval. Then he smiles and goes inside his house to heat it up.

I go back inside my house and eat a cold tuna sandwich for lunch.

So why you ask, do I always give him something … better?

Because I don’t own any *@#* fruit trees!

But today I have had an epiphany. His sense of smell is far better than his eyesight. Yes, Uncle’s a sly old fox.

The seafood gumbo, the NY cheesecake, the homemade strawberry jam, the pasta carbonara … staples in my kitchen. And all have distinctive scents capable of drifting ten feet. He’s got them memorized.

It’s no longer a coincidence that the windows of his house are only ever open on my side, and that his fruit invariably arrives soon after I spend “special time” in the kitchen.

Yep, you’ve been caught out, Uncle. Because today you got a little impatient.

Slipped up, you old scammer, you.

You brought me a basket of very ripe bananas (presented with a Cheshire cat grin behind a swarm of fruit gnats denser than the bananas), instead of waiting a day and bringing me a different fruit.

A Pavlovian offering; a craving-fuelled Freudian slip.

Gotcha! Because just minutes ago I pulled a small loaf of banana bread from the oven. Stuffed with raisins and cranberries and even, yes, those overpriced imported walnuts from Villa Market!

I find Uncle on his porch. No words are spoken by either of us as I proffer two pre-toasted slices, drowning in New Zealand butter. He nods thanks with a gentle smile, chews slowly to experience every flavor and texture, takes a sip of the black coffee I also brewed for him, sighs, and gazes off into his orchards.

Fruits are the best thing Thailand has left to offer.

Your are eating poison thinking you're sophisticated, and refusing what is actually good for you.

You're just another ignorant victim of marketing. And indeed you can make rambuttan pies, sundries,ice creams and relishes !

Fruits are the best thing Thailand has left to offer.

Your are eating poison thinking you're sophisticated, and refusing what is actually good for you.

You're just another ignorant victim of marketing. And indeed you can make rambuttan pies, sundries,ice creams and relishes !

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"The sky in Thailand is powder blue."

"NO! You are an ignorant victim of marketing. It's baby blue!"

You certainly are free to have your opinion, one which I would never deem appropriate to assert was influenced through ignorance.

But, thanks anyway for your cogent post.

What's the point of paying "overpriced imported walnuts from Villa market " to stick them in the oven to destroy every benefit walnuts could actually bring you?

HeijoshinCool,

thanks for the great post, enjoyed reading it a lot!

HeijoshinCool,

thanks for the great post, enjoyed reading it a lot!

.

Thanks.

Now, PM me where I can send you a loaf of that unhealthy banana bread.

What's the point of paying "overpriced imported walnuts from Villa market " to stick them in the oven to destroy every benefit walnuts could actually bring you?

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All the more shocking, before I embedded the walnuts into the dough …. I toasted them first!

(But if it keeps you from having a stroke thinking about such horrors, I did use a cast iron skillet, not teflon.)

I also licked the bowl of raw dough.

EDIT: Spilchequer

Edited December 13, 201411 yr by HeijoshinCool

We have about 300 of those stinking lamyai trees, glad someone buys them as they are way too sweet for my taste The pineapple are decent as are cantolope (if picked when ripe) watermelon (I want a big one black diamond), some banana/bread better, mango can't be beat, and not many more Thai fruits satisfy my palet. Miss the frit out of the orchard where we had a dozen different type of fruit trees, so fresh for 6 months and then you got the same fresh from mexico the other 6 months. Pecan, walnut, hazel, were a part of the orchard, Throw in a veggie garden that was a couple acres a heard of cattle/pigs and we could eat off the farm. had to buy sugar and flour anything else was just want some, normally fish or the like.

Enjoyed reading this.

hell yeah you should savour the table loaden with fruit Thailand has to offer. Admire and praise.

Never got beyond apples and cherries at home ?

Thailands fruits need a though shell , so they can fend of insects and ants. That's why so many fruits have extra thorns, two finger thick shell and all the protective housings. Don't worry, man like you can and will crush through.

And believe me, it's more healthy than your I Scream or oven baked poo poo whatever

eating Thailands rich diversity of fruits could make you invulnerable, if there wasn't the daily smokescreen your neighbours so much love to lighten up.

Thanks to a meal of litschis while the scent of burnt polyester waffers around tour breakfast table

Edited December 13, 201411 yr by crazygreg44

use a thai spoon applied to the center of the rambutan push it in till it breaks just the skin then slide it back so the top section comes off then you can suck the fruit out from the bottom easily. when you have the nack it takes a second or two.

rambutan season i eat about a kilo a day for days. luv em.

use a thai spoon applied to the center of the rambutan push it in till it breaks just the skin then slide it back so the top section comes off then you can suck the fruit out from the bottom easily. when you have the nack it takes a second or two.

rambutan season i eat about a kilo a day for days. luv em.

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If you can bake banana bread and lasagna, I have an unending supply source for you ….

HeijoshinCool,

thanks for the great post, enjoyed reading it a lot!

I liked the "swarm of fruit flies"

Nice read. Very good.

No ploblem eating rambutan at about 5bht a kilo in season, lamyai free, tamarind free, anything else buy at the market already peeled sliced with a skewer for about 20bht. Still your culinary efforts sound magnificent.

Is Rhek Thum pronounced 'rec*tum'?

Edited December 14, 201411 yr by Gecko123

I find the fruit here alot better then the under ripe picked-too-early tasteless expensive crap you find in western countries supermarkets

OP, Uncle Kee, seems to live in the right place.........Rhek Thum.

Loved your story.

Vote for Costas

Is Rhek Thum pronounced 'rec*tum'?

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You must remember to aspirate the "h's" in Rhek Thum.

Which is far preferable to aspirating the contents in Rhek Thum.

I live in Saudi Arabia, local licensing laws being what they are..........there is a whole load of stuff you can do with fruit that doesn't involve eating it.

Honey and dates are 70% sugar.

Ok. Now where is Chapter Two of your magnificent literature?

Ok. Now where is Chapter Two of your magnificent literature?

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Chapter one concerned the problems encountered trying to find a cup of coffee in Rhek Thum.

Chapter two was about a retarded dog with a cold, wet nose.

Chapter three is presented herewith.

Chapter four concerns the little known Rhek Thum sport, called well-diving.

EDIT: Spoolchicker

Edited December 14, 201411 yr by HeijoshinCool

Flame and response to it removed

uncle kee? in rectum ?? bahaha 555

Okay, guys. It's not the same "kee" you so badly want it to be.

Poor Uncle, I've made him the butt of jokes on TV.

Love it.....Khee or normally from the rectum...late night humour