LOST AND FED IN THEWET

It was the taxi driver who first realized he was lost and U-turned in front of Lost Inn BKK, turned right to Krung Kasem Road before another right into narrow Soi Thewet 1, asked for directions from a family who was closing shop before finally parking his cab in a one-way street and walking me through a narrow alley into Phranakorn-Nornlen where for the next 5 days, I sought refuge from the shitty sandwich lunches of the UN Conference Center.

My hotel is actually in the middle of an old residental neighborhood and thankfully does not serve breakfast because the 800 meters from there to the UN is a living museum of authentic Thai cuisine, like Monday's guay jab breakfast bowl (rolled rice noodle soup with delicate tofu, crispy pork belly and offal) and, after losing my way and giving up on Khaosan Road, where I retreated for a dinner of kor moo yang (grilled pork neck), gai yang (grilled chicken) and a cold Chang. 

While Monday was a small family restaurant affair, Tuesday is hardcore street food with another guay jab breakfast bowl, no offals this time, from a husband-and-wife pop up serving a clientele of mostly students from a nearby school, and a dinner of ba mee haeng (dry noodles, crispy and red pork, blanched bokchoy) from a food cart in front of the street corner 7-11 before again attempting Khaosan Road to find that place where the Norarat Sathan Bridge rises to the music of  Adhere 13th Blues Bar and four bottles of Lao beer. 

Thewet was begotten by the historic Thewet Naruemit Bridge, an area that radiates through Krung Samsen Road including the equally historic Khlong Phadung Krung Kasem up to the Witsukam Narueman Bridge near the UN Center where I again wore my vintage negotiating barongs, a stretch that tranforms into a food strip every night where on Wednesday, I had a dinner of pla pao (salt crusted grilled red tilapia) and cold Leo that preceded a chicken rice breakfast on the other side of the road, both sidewalks representing the yin (small family restaurants) and the yang (pop up food stalls) of Thewet's food culture.  

On The Least Expected Day, Superman, Enric and Annemiek had an awkward threesome Inside the Movistar Team while I started rainy Thursday with fried skewered pork that tasted like tocino, a really crispy fried chicken and two packets of sticky rice from two adjacent food carts that has enough calories for a 1.7 kilometer walk to Coco Chao Phraya for a dinner of cannabis-laced hom mok talay, spicy squid and a draft of Federbrau single malt that has enough Tetrahydrocannabinol to turn the Rama VIII Bridge into gold, and enough 11-Hydroxy-THC for a whiskey sour and mojito to rhyme the blues rhyme with the rain.

As Jokoy went Live from the LA Forum on Friday morning, the giant standing Buddha of Wat Indharaviharn blessed me with a piece of moo ping (grilled pork skewer) while I wandered through narrow alleys where pots of rice porridge were boiling, a stray cat leading me to a monk collecting morning alms at the Ruam Yang Market where Patonggo Cafe unexpectedly punched through a store front with a plate of mixed crispy and roasted pork with Chinese sausage and rice thus relegating a planned brunch into a morning snack of french fries, spring rolls, chicken nuggets and cold Thai milk tea for THBKKNB243's homecoming at the Gypsum Metropolitan Tower.

And it can be any of the unmasked patrons of the Miracle Lounge --- the Indian gentleman deciding between a whiskey and gin, a Singaporean couple feasting on grilled chicken and sauteed pork, or a young Asian male with purple hair who sipped wine like it was coffee --- but certainly not from the 6 cans of Schweppes dry ginger ale that was left behind by the Thai Cave Rescue team for a Sunday bike ride in Munoz and the MILF of Bakal 2...   

THE IRON CHEF OF BAKAL 2

For 7 days, the Chairman's Filipino uncle hosted five Iron Chefs in the Kitchen Stadium of Bakal 2 to battle the Phantom Biker in the Quest for an Iron Legend. 

 

In the first duel, Chef Curtis Stone's street lamb menu lost to the Phantom Bikers' ginisang monggo at pritong manok that were seasoned with a generous dose of love juices from the Loving Adults of Denmark.

Chef Dominique Crenn's tailgate ribs next fell to a tanigue prepared two ways as sinigang sa miso and kinilaw, while Chef Marcus Samuelsson's milk-based pastry was no match to a combination of inihaw na tuna belly at tortang talong that were gathered from The Hunt in Croatia. 

And for Running Away with the Devil, Chef Ming Tsai's game birds festival was edged with a fully loaded nilagang baka just as a sinigang na baboy from The Wild World of John McAfee in Belize eked past Chef Gabriela Camara's chocolate challenge.

The side events too were ruled by local cuisine with Wednesday's tokwa't baboy, Thursday's dinakdakan, Friday's manok na tinola sa tanglad and Saturday's bihon guisado neutralizing Kleo Straub's chili pepper challenge and the sturgeon and seafood stash she smuggled from East Germany. 

Andri Olafsson was however En(Trapped) by a biker gang in Siglufjörður so the Phantom Biker took to the trails to stock the red suitcase he won at the Kitchen Stadium with igado from the SIDCOR Sunday Market and Mabuhay Lounge's sweet High Flyer cocktail before PR 736 had it delivered to the cult's hotel in Bangkok where a tattoed woman nibbled on crab omelette that remained crispy depsite the rain... 

BIKER'S GOLD IN MEKONG ISLAND

The Pirate Gold of Adak was in fact buried by Gregory Dwargstofin in Mekong Island and not in the Aleutians as Mayor Thom Spitler would like us to believe, and it was himself as the white man with two phones who shared that intel after finishing three plates of Mabuhay Lounge roast beef where Vana Adventure Travel dead dropped the first instruction to meet with their case officer in a ferry boat in the middle of the third Mekong River crossing.    

Of the remaing 148 cans of gold coins that were buried in 1892, the Phantom Biker and his handler found 5 cans hidden in the stairs of a traditional Khmer house, the root of a galangal plant, the dining hall of a Buddhist temple compound, the loom of a sampot weaver and in a fish sold by an itinerant vendor.  

Five more cans marked with the Sealing Association logo were horcruxes that were being used to squeeze sugarcane juice, collect river ferry fare, polish the hull of a traditional long tail dragon boat, lock the doors of the island's most important temple and boil soybean milk skin.   

At the final treasure spot, Stranger Things happened as the Creel House turned not to be a farmer's house but a cafe where Vecna (aka Henry and 001) confessed that Gregory Dwargstofin was the Russian spy who kidnapped and sold Jim Hopper as the intendured sampot weaver and designated chef for the Phantom Biker's traditional Khmer lunch.  

Such is a biker's gold that is worth $55 (+$5 tip) which is more than the $350 million valuation of the Dwargstofin gold that can't even buy a platter of giant Mekong snails from the Angkor Ladies of the All Star Cafe or even a disappointing samlor ka koh from Khmer Surin because Samaky's pizza and the craft beer from Embargo are the kings of dinner that, for one night only, graciously gave way to Master Tapsi's Filipino spread and flirty receptionist from Laguna.

The hunt for the biker's gold in Mekong Island entailed components on responsible investment, the use of clean energy, and inclusive business as the planning model that was consolidated during a whole day discussion on social protection and care at the Sokha Hotel who rolled out a meat banquet for the occassion that eclipsed the wok fried shrimp with salted egg and peking duck from the Monday conclave of those in search of purple aprons, a few hours after a requiem mass in Cabanatuan and before PR 521 took off...

RICHARD CARAPAZ WINS 18-22

Without Saying Goodbye, Richard Carapaz left the remaining breakaway in Cusco to arrive in Machu Picchu alone, his first Grand Tour stage win in three years and just after Pugad Baboy arrived from the SM Mall in Sonoma with a container of gazpacho from Chef Matias that is enough for The Next 365 Days.

That was because it was 32 years since the 1990 Luzon earthquake for a reunion that started at 10 AM when the cherry fell off a melting ice cream in Mexico City into grandpa's old notebook as he-who-can-be-named blessed trays of baked mac, sisig, pinakbet and a bowl of kinilaw na isda that was marinated in Suntory Whiskey and Alfonso 1 Brandy for 32 days, 32 hours and 32 minutes.  

That's Amor, a threesome marathon between the Laura-Don Massimo-Nacho Team of Sicily versus the Wali-Simone-Claire Team of Paris for Tuesday's Senegalese version of nilagang mani, grilled pork and breakfast wine that will be served with the bacio of Al Contrario to celebrate the Phantom Biker's 6-stage tour from Puno to Ica with Ariana of the Peruvian Road Cycling Team, Sofia of Team RadioShack, Dani of AR Monex Pro Cycling and Lina of Cofidis who were To Each, Her Own.  

So Tell Me when Love and Gelato will be served for desert after Friday's leftover fried chicken from Max and the kilawen at kalderetang kambing during a job interview with Madam Sir Vartika Chaturvedi, Karishma's captor and sleuth of the Delhi Crime that solved itself the day Richard Carapaz again took a mountain stage for a P40/P10 jueteng bet on 18-22 that were drawn twice in August, three days before the music died on Fr. Apolo De Guzman...