Ah yes, Som Tum—the famous green papaya salad of Thailand. A dish so beloved, so iconic, so deceptively innocent-looking… you’d never suspect it might double as a controlled burn for your internal organs.
On paper, it’s perfection.
A bright, crunchy mix of shredded green papaya, tomatoes, and long beans. Toss in some dried shrimp and roasted peanuts, and you’ve got texture for days. Then comes the dressing—lime juice, fish sauce, palm sugar, garlic… and, of course, Thai bird’s eye chilies.
That last ingredient?
That’s not flavor. That’s a warning label.
Now, I had been playing it safe—ordering my Som Tum mai phet (not spicy), like a cautious man who enjoys both taste and continued function of his esophagus.
But on this particular day, I decided to assimilate. Blend in. Become one with the locals.
So I ordered it phet nit noi—“a little spicy.”
Let me tell you something.
In my 68 trips around the sun, I’ve made a number of questionable decisions. This one didn’t just crack the Top 10—it came in hot at number one. Literally.
I remember the moment vividly.
I sat down with my salad. No milk. No yogurt. No dairy safety net of any kind. Just me, a fork, and what I can only describe as misplaced confidence.
Crunch.
First bite.
And I thought, “Hey… this isn’t so—”
That’s as far as I got.
My lips went numb. My tongue caught fire. My brain briefly disconnected from my body to file an official complaint.
Naturally, I did what any rational person would do in that moment.
I took another bite.
Because clearly, the first one hadn’t taught me enough.
This time, the full experience arrived. Eyes watering. Nose running. Breathing optional. My entire face transformed into a high-pressure sprinkler system.
At one point, I opened my mouth to “cool things down,” forgetting a key principle of fire science: oxygen is not your friend.
Somewhere deep in my brain, ancient survival instincts kicked in—flooding my system with adrenaline and endorphins, as if to say, “We don’t know what’s happening, but let’s try not to die in public.”
Meanwhile, I’m sitting there making promises to God I had no intention of keeping.
“I’ll be a better man…”
“I’ll stop complaining about small things…”
“I’ll never question ‘mai phet’ again…”
After two bites, I surrendered.
Not paused. Not reconsidered.
Surrendered.
I sat there for a few minutes, quietly re-evaluating my life choices, before staggering back to the vendor to ask the obvious question:
“How spicy was that?”
I was expecting an 8. Maybe a 9.
She smiled… and held up one finger.
One.
Ladies and gentlemen, I had just been defeated by a one.
I returned home to await whatever consequences my digestive system had in store for me, humbled, defeated, and slightly concerned for my future.
So if you’re ever in Thailand and feeling brave, go ahead—order the Som Tum.
Just remember:
In this particular game, you are not the predator.
You are the prey.
Final score: Thailand 1, Daryle 0.
Until next time.
I’ve heard that when eating spicy food you need to chase each bite with ice cream
Might not cool it down going in
But it might cool it down coming out
Or so I was told
Dairy products – including milk, yogurt and ice cream – are good antidotes. Chocolate is another.