Mystery Dumplings

A short meditation on culture and economics in Thailand:

The woman who runs my local noodle shop occasionally makes dumplings.  I still haven’t figured out why.

Don’t get me wrong – I obviously know why she MAKES dumplings.  They go in soup.  What I mean is that she doesn’t have them consistently; she tends to make one small batch a night, or maybe two.  And she doesn’t reserve them for people who specifically order dumpling soup.  Rather, she asks everyone whether they’d like some dumplings to go with their noodles.  If you say yes, you get a generous handful of them – and it’s not like she skimps on the meat or the noodles to make up for it.  Nope, it’s the same dish, at the same price.  Just with a delicious added freebie on top.

And I don’t understand why she bothers.  The dumplings are labour-intensive to make, and don’t earn her any extra cash.  If they were always on offer, I suppose they could be a way to lure in customers, and make her place stand out from the half-dozen identical noodle shops within shouting distance – but she usually doesn’t have them, and when she does, they tend to be hidden away.  They might be a treat to reward (and encourage) the loyalty of regular customers – but I remember her offering me some back when I first moved here, in the days before I had enough Thai to order food, or even to say, “I would like this,” and point.

The closest I can come is that, well, maybe she just likes to make us dumplings?

That’s not as silly as it sounds.  Let me lay down this beat and see if you pick it up.  The Rough Guide to Thailand states that three concepts are essential to understanding the Thai mindset:  jai yen, or “cool heart”, which I’ve talked about before; mai pen rai, which means, “It’s no problem,” but is less a no-worries philosophy and more closely related to jai yen – it’s about laughing things off and rolling with the punches; and sanuk, or fun, which everything should be arranged to be, as far as possible.  At this point in my time here, I think I’d add a fourth:  jai dee, or good heart.  Thai people are very focused on doing the right thing, and being generous with their time and help – according to some of my friends here, it’s very tied in with Buddhist ideas of karma.  Having trouble getting your motorcycle out of a parking space?  Someone will come over and start helping to move the bikes around you.  Ask for help from someone who doesn’t understand, or can’t answer, your question?  They’ll call over a friend, or even approach strangers on your behalf.  Leave your helmet, your groceries, whatever in the basket of your motorcycle?  It’s extremely rare that anyone would dream of taking it (and even when it does occur, a lot of helmet theft is spur-of-the-moment “borrowing” to avoid helmet fines, not premeditated theft for profit).

So it’s not entirely bizarre that someone would make extra treats for her customers just because, without any business motivation.  To take a similar example:  at another cookshop near me, rice or dry noodle dishes usually come with a bowl of soup on the side, but it’s understood that if the shop runs out of soup, it runs out of soup.  It would be terrible form to complain that you didn’t get your soup, whereas in a Western restaurant, it would only be natural to point out that one of the sides never arrived.  That’s because in a Western restaurant, it would be treated as part of the package to which you were entitled, whereas at a Thai cookshop, it’s seen as a courtesy, almost like a gift from your hosts.

It’s kind of charming, actually.  I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for an unexpected free treat, even a rare one; the fact that you never know when it’s coming gives something as simple as going to the noodle stall a tiny added thrill.

… which, come to think of it, probably keeps me going back more often.

Huh.  Maybe noodle-shop lady is more calculating than I thought.