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Three ingredients in the mortar, thirty seconds in the wok. This is the kreung tam stripped to its bones: garlic, white pepper, cilantro root. The first paste every Thai cook learns, and the one that teaches you everything.
Every kreung tam starts here. Garlic, white peppercorns, cilantro root. Three ingredients. That's it. Pound them together in the krok until they become a rough, fragrant paste, and you've built the foundation that holds up half of Central Thai wok cooking.
Ajarn always said: "If you understand the simplest paste, you understand the system." Gra tiem prik thai is that paste. It's the skeleton. Green curry paste is the same skeleton with fifteen more ingredients layered on top. But the bones are always garlic, always pepper, always cilantro root. Learn this one and the rest makes sense.
Here's why it works. Garlic provides pungent heat that mellows and sweetens in hot oil. White peppercorns give a clean, sharp bite that's completely different from black pepper (which has the outer hull intact and tastes earthier). Cilantro root, the part most people throw away, delivers a deep, musky herbal flavor that neither the leaves nor the stems can replicate. When you pound these three together, the cell walls rupture. The allicin from the garlic, the piperine from the pepper, and the essential oils from the cilantro root merge into something none of them are alone. That's the kreung tam at work. A blender chops them. A mortar marries them.
The wok does the rest. Screaming hot oil, paste in first, pork seared on contact, fish sauce and oyster sauce splashed in at the end. The whole thing takes less time than ordering delivery. This is the dish I teach on the first day of every Fai Thai workshop, because if you can pound this paste and fire a wok properly, you can cook Thai food. Principles, not recipes.
Gra tiem prik thai (กระเทียมพริกไทย) is one of the oldest flavor bases in Central Thai cooking, predating the arrival of chili peppers from the Americas in the 16th century. Before chilies, white and black peppercorns were the primary source of heat in Siamese cuisine. The three-ingredient paste of garlic, peppercorn, and cilantro root remains the structural foundation from which more complex kreung tam are built, a fact Ajarn McDang emphasizes as evidence that Thai cuisine is a principled system, not a random collection of flavors.
Quantity
300g
sliced 1/4 inch thick against the grain
Quantity
1 head (about 10 cloves)
peeled
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
4
cleaned and trimmed
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
1 per serving
Quantity
for garnish
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| pork loin or pork shouldersliced 1/4 inch thick against the grain | 300g |
| garlicpeeled | 1 head (about 10 cloves) |
| white peppercorns (prik thai khao) | 1 teaspoon |
| cilantro roots (rak pak chi)cleaned and trimmed | 4 |
| vegetable oil | 2 tablespoons |
| fish sauce (nam pla) | 1 tablespoon |
| oyster sauce | 1 tablespoon |
| dark soy sauce (si ew dam) | 1/2 teaspoon |
| palm sugar (nam tan pip) or granulated sugar | 1 teaspoon |
| chicken stock or water | 2 tablespoons |
| steamed jasmine rice | for serving |
| fried egg | 1 per serving |
| fresh cilantro leaves (optional) | for garnish |
| sliced cucumber (optional) | for serving |
Put the white peppercorns in the mortar first. They're the hardest ingredient and need to be cracked before anything else goes in. Pound until they're broken into coarse fragments, not dust. Add the cilantro roots and pound them into the pepper until fibrous and bruised. Then the garlic. Pound everything together into a rough, wet paste. You should see chunks of garlic. You should smell the peppercorns burning your nostrils. If the paste is smooth and uniform, you went too far. Rustic is correct.
Take about a third of the pounded paste and rub it into the sliced pork along with half the fish sauce. Let it sit for ten minutes while you get everything else ready. This isn't optional. The paste needs time to penetrate the meat. The fish sauce seasons the pork from the inside while the garlic and pepper coat the surface. Ten minutes is the minimum. Thirty is better if you have it.
Get the wok screaming hot over your highest flame. Add the oil and wait until it shimmers and just barely smokes. Drop the remaining two-thirds of the gra tiem prik thai paste into the oil. It should explode with noise. Stir it for five seconds, just enough for the garlic to start turning golden. The raw peppercorn smell shifts to something nutty and warm. That's the moment.
Spread the marinated pork slices across the wok in a single layer. Don't touch them for thirty seconds. Let the wok do its job. You want the pork to make hard contact with the metal so it chars and gets color. Wok hei lives in that moment of stillness. Then flip and sear the other side. Another thirty seconds. The pork should be golden-brown on the edges with bits of fried garlic clinging to the surface.
Add the remaining fish sauce, oyster sauce, dark soy sauce, sugar, and the chicken stock. Toss everything together. The sauces will hit the hot wok and reduce almost instantly into a glossy, slightly sticky coating on the pork. Fifteen seconds of tossing, that's all. Taste. It should be savory and peppery with a faint sweetness underneath. The fish sauce provides the salt. The oyster sauce gives body and gloss. The sugar just rounds the edges. If it needs more salt, a splash more fish sauce. Never table salt. Plate over jasmine rice. Fried egg on top. Cilantro leaves and sliced cucumber on the side. Done.
1 serving (about 390g)
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