Oh Pringles! Why must you exist? You are the new Goldfish, which were the new Pringles, which were the new Cheez-Its, which were the new Goldfish, etc. I came all the way to SE Asia, and here I am, eating Pringles like it's raining dehydrated potatoes. Why did I have to see you in the 7-Eleven? I was doing just fine when Lays were the only potato chips available because they don't put crack in their chips, not to mention the fact that they are less entertaining since you can't make hilarious duck lips with them. Is there nowhere to run? Will I never be safe from deliciously salty snacks? Will I ever stop eating like a 5-year-old?
On a somewhat unrelated note, what's up with the abundance of fried chicken in Southern Thailand? Did I die and wake up in Mississippi? I am so down with the what the Rock is cooking around these parts!
Night 1 at the Raft House: Fried Fish - Muy delicioso!
Night 2: I was disappointed to learn that fried fish was not on the menu, but my hunger strike was called off almost immediately when they delivered...FRIED PORK BALLS!
Heaven! I'm in Heaven! What's a quasi-southern girl to do?
The abundance and variety of deep fried deliciousness in the south of Thailand brings up a curious question (and I have to give Diane credit for this particular musing). Is it possible that the southern part of all countries share the culinary aesthetic of deep fried fanaticism? If so, I have DEFINITELY found my people.
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