Wed, May 23, 2012 14:42:23 PM
Bangkok Post
Wed, May 23, 2012 14:42:23 PM
Bangkok Post
It's incredible how the prospect of making money from tourists can bring out the entrepreneurial spirit.
I've travelled through Ayutthaya hundreds of times since I was a child and I've always felt it to be a rather neglected province. But I've recently been witnessing its transformation from a place that most people pass through on the way somewhere else into a tourism magnet in its own right.
Lining both side of the now much wider trans-provincial highway are makeshift stalls selling roti saimai, a sugary snack made by placing silky strands of candy floss in the centre of a round, freshly made crepe and then rolling it into a cylinder for ease of consumption. Next time you're transiting Ayutthaya grab yourself a bag or two of these as proof of your visit because this Central Plains hub is now marketing itself as the country's roti saimai capital.
The custom of buying souvenirs of our travels is etched deep in the Thai psyche. No matter in what neck of the woods we find ourselves, we like to seek out products carrying a "made in ..." label to show where we've been.
Certain provinces are rightly famous for certain types of fruit or desserts or other foodstuffs. If you go to Nakhon Pathom, for instance, you shouldn't come back without a few of its celebrated pomelos. And when in Phetchabun you have to get hold of at least a few kilos of sweet tamarind.
Some of this produce is unique to certain geographical location. Or a certain tree grows best in a certain area or yields tastier fruit because of the local climate or soil. No arguments there. But roti saimai doesn't seem to have any obvious links to Ayutthaya. The main ingredient is sugar, but Ayutthaya is not a leading grower of sugarcane. In fact its farmers are best known for raising rice and if you drive through at certain times of the year both sides of the road will be carpeted in soft green vegetation: it's paddy fields as far as the eye can see.
So what's the connection then? A plausible explanation might well lie with some of the original makers of the snack whose names all have the prefix "Bung", a word which signifies Muslim brotherliness. Some of the Muslim families I know in Ayutthaya are authorities on the time-honoured way of making roti saimai. Passed down from generation to generation were the secrets of "pulling" fine strands of candy floss from a mass of thick syrup and making delicate, aromatic pancakes from dough. Before the era of labels and fiercely competitive advertising, these roti-makers were unknown beyond the communities in which they lived. They were only able to cater to a limited numbers of customers because their main source of labour was members of their extended families.
But with the exponential increase in domestic tourism, the word has spread and orders for roti saimai have gone through the roof. Some of these producers have tried to adapt to the jump in demand by hiring outsiders. A bustling trade breeds happy traders, in theory at least. But these clans found themselves having to work harder and at a faster pace while their profits dipped. For the more roti saimai was promoted as the souvenir to buy in Ayutthaya, the more shops opened up locally to sell it. Competition had arrived, unbidden. But it was inevitable, perhaps.
Rows and rows of roti saimai stalls have sprouted up across the road from the province's central hospital completely obscuring the kitchens of the original makers of this snack. Scores of bung-prefaced names have since entered the scene, followed by Nong (sister) this and Pa (auntie) that. Some of the new faces in the business have devised new recipes that deliver chewier candy floss and pancakes as thin as a sheet of A4 paper _ and almost as bland.
The writers of travel brochures have been known to fool people, but one's tastebuds can't be lied to. If a roti saimai tastes truly awful, then thousands of words of praise and endorsements from the most esteemed of culinary critics are to no avail.
Should standards be set to recognise and preserve the uniqueness of local products like this? Or should we standardise the way we market tourism destinations in the hope that the pendulum will swing back to favour location-specific authenticity?
Standardisation, in this case anyway, may not be the enemy of free-market enterprise. I don't want to curb competition by deterring small entrepreneurs from starting a business and perhaps prospering. But setting standards may be necessary to maintain the genuineness of a product that is the fruit of local wisdom, labour and people's extraordinary ability to keep cultural identity alive through food and a host of other tangible things.
New shops specialising in traditional treats and wares should be encouraged to open as long as what they are selling is certified to have secure roots in old recipes or methodologies.
A big increase in the number of people hawking the same product often results in a price war which ultimately hurts everybody involved in that business. But some vendors clearly prefer a safe bet. Ask a vendor of kai nam pla (chicken marinated in fish sauce), for example, why she has so many competitors in the same place and she will probably explain that it is unwise to position oneself differently by offering, say, grilled chicken instead.
Hawkers point out that a lot of tourists follow the advice printed in travel guides and arrive in a particular province programmed to take home a particular souvenir and are not willing to accept any substitutes.
Going with the flow, selling whatever is currently in demand, may boost revenue. But for how long? If a product is devoid of authenticity, is just a poor copy of some bona fide souvenir, shoppers will eventually spot _ or in some instances, taste _ the flaws and move on.
Commercialism that spawns a rash of bad imitations and fakes can spoil the unique appeal of a product and sabotage the very entrepreneurial spirit that can keep alive aspects of our cultural heritage that have somehow survived thus far.
Kamolwat Praprutitum is assistant news editor of the news section of the Bangkok Post.
