"I was gaining weight very rapidly and read about the idea of restricting carbohydrates as an alternative to going hungry. I had a big appetite, so that was the only thing I would even consider." Robert Atkins

"Robert Atkins, you fat bastard; lighten up and wrap your laughing gear around this. You can thank me when you've finished your plate. I hate it when people talk with their mouth full." paraclete

Lethoke is pretty much my favouritest food on the face of the planet. My Nan knows to always have the ingredients ready and waiting for me whenever I come to visit. And it's as about as far away from the Atkins Diet as you can get. In fact, it's the anti-Atkins Diet. This is all about the carbohydrates. Protein? Minimal. Vegetable matter? Pah. Fat? In sufficient quantities to help the carbohydrates go down. Anyone, ANYONE, on any kind of restrictive or faddy diet is unlikely to be able to eat this. Stop reading now and save yourself the torture. This is the Burmese equivalent of fast food. Calorie full and nutritionally empty. Try to live on this stuff and you'd have bleeding gums and bone pain within a week.

Okay, have I made it clear that you have to have absolutely no food or body hang-ups to even think about eating this stuff?

Then on with the show.

'Htamin lethoke' translates to "rice [htamin] mixed with the fingers [lethoke]", and the same way you look like a bit of a knob trying to eat a burger with a knife and fork, you never, never, try to eat this with anything apart from your fingers. If you do, give me advance notice so that I can come round to point and laugh. You should be ashamed. What part of 'mixed with the fingers' do you not get? I bet you eat 'finger food' with a cocktail stick. If you have a psychological block about eating this with your hands, then you obviously don't wash after using the bathroom.

OUTED!

Part of the reason why it's fast food is that very little cooking is required; everything can be pre-cooked and kept in the fridge. A plate's worth can then be assembled as and when you feel like it. Writing this recipe down is a bit of an effort for me... because I know people are going to ask for exact amounts. It doesn't work like that. You just grab handfuls / spoonfuls of stuff, throw it in a bowl, mix it together, taste it, alter if necessary, and then eat. So, I've had to make what is actually a very simple meal look a little more complicated than it actually is when writing down the ingredients. Please forgive me. Similar to kaukswe and moh hin gha, your usage of the accompaniments will vary. People's views as to what the main flavours should be do differ; for instance, I love the sourness of tamarind, my father loves the heat of chillies. YMWV; but that's the point of the exercise.

I've tried to make the numbers such that this should be an adequate feed for 4 - 6 people. But I've probably got it wrong. Not least because I eat this stuff until it's coming out of my ears and I can no longer breathe. Therefore expect to have leftovers.

Main ingredients:

• 125g dry rice – long grain, basmati type
• 2 tbs oil (vegetable or sunflower)
• 2 fresh red chillies
• 125g rice vermicelli
• 60g cellophane noodles
• 125g fine / medium egg noodles
• 6 small-ish potatoes (when I say –ish, I mean, "would be equal to 3 large potatoes")
• packet of bean sprouts

Ah, rice. In my experience, very few people can cook rice properly. I'm not one of those people. Too impatient. I'm comparing myself to my Nana though, who's been cooking rice nearly every day of her life for the last seventy odd years. From observation, there seems to be soaking and washing involved. If you can master the art of cooking rice, then I advise you to, because it is of fundamental import to htamin lethoke; this rice needs to be dry and fluffy. Must, must, must. Nothing else will do. I cannot overstate this, though you probably think that I'm going on about it a bit too much right now. Now, having mentioned that my darling Nana has been soaking and washing and boiling rice most days for the last seventy odd years, I should probably also mention that she bought herself a rice cooker about ten years ago and swears by the thing.

So, moral of the story. Go buy yourself a rice cooker. You still have to wash the rice, but it's so worth the outlay in terms of time and end product. However, assuming someone's locked your front door, disconnected your phone and taken your credit cards for the now, wash the rice very, very thoroughly (till the rinsing water is clear). Simmer till cooked in an approximate ratio of 1:2 of rice to water and (this is important) do not stir while cooking. For some reason, people don't know about that bit. I advise using a non-stick pan, and/or a low heat. Another hint: the older the rice, the drier and fluffier it will be. Anyway, have I drilled this in yet? Dry and fluffy.

Good.

Blend the chillies and then fry in the oil; mix this in with your dry, fluffy, cooked rice. Technically, this is an optional step, so if your palate is not that of the type that likes it spicy, feel free to omit.

Boil the rice vermicelli, cellophane noodles and egg noodles (separately) according to the packet instructions or until just tender (and no more else you'll have mush on your hands; yes, this does mean that you'll have to pay attention rather than just use a watch.) Drain, run cold water through so that they won't stick together, and then set aside.

Boil the potatoes with their skins on. I've specified smaller rather than bigger because they are easier to cook by boiling than larger ones. Allow to cool, then peel, slice, and set aside.

Pour boiling water over the bean sprouts and leave for ten minutes. Drain, and set aside.

Accompaniments:

• a couple of eggs
• 10 small onions / shallots
• 20 cloves of garlic
• 250mls oil
• powdered dried prawns
• chick pea flour (besan)
• chilli powder
• fish sauce (ngan pya ye)
• dried tamarind pulp

Beat the eggs and fry them (similar to an omlette), then allow to cool before cutting into fine shreds; set aside in a small bowl.

Thinly slice the onions and the garlic. Set aside half of the onions (raw) in a bowl. Set aside half of the garlic (raw) in a bowl.

Fry the rest of the onion and garlic in the oil over a low heat (do not burn, just cook), allow to cool, and pour into bowl.

To make tamarind liquid, soak the pulp (it'll say how much on the side of the packet) in 500mls of boiling water and allow to cool. Then squeeze out the tangy goodness (my, how often is it that I get to put that in a writeup?) and strain the liquid through a fine sieve. Discard the seeds and fibres.

Place the powdered dried prawns, chick pea flour, chilli powder and fish sauce in their own receptacles. And now place all of these various bowls on the table, with spoons in the powdered / liquid things.

Putting it all together

Grab a bowl. Now, grab a pinch of each of the main ingredients – and I mean a pinch, none of this 'eyes bigger than stomach' on the first go, this is a test run – and then move onto the accompaniments. Unless specific to your requirements, you don't want the mixture too wet or too dry; this is a delicate balance between the powdered ingredients and the liquid ones. Experiment with amounts, but as a general hint, it's the chick pea powder that holds it together, and the powdered dried prawns are the sand in the cement, as it were. The garlic and onion flavoured oil is lubrication, and the tamarind liquid and fish sauce are hydration. Try (assuming a pinch of main ingredients) a small spoon's worth of both chick pea powder and dried prawn powder, and a table spoon's worth of oil and a big dash of tamarind and fish sauce. Mix together with your fingers (another hint – your fingers will be messy, but your palm should be clean), and taste. Which flavours do you like? Add, alter, mix, etc. Add the other accompaniments, create the perfect meal. Enjoy.

paraclete's quick and dirty version

Okay, I know, I said I always had my Nan have the ingredients on stand-by, and yet that sounded like a lot to have on standby.... that's the posh version, that I have dictated to you for completions sake. Like you'd catch me doing all that. Aside from anything, raw onion is the devil's own food, to be avoided at all costs. The jury's still out on raw garlic. No, no. My version of lethoke is far simpler. The main ingredients are the same (well... I leave the bean sprouts out. Too much like good for me for my liking.) The major difference is that the oil doesn't have onion in; a matter of personal preference for both my Nan and myself, but it also means that the oil can be stored rather than made fresh each time. Oil with garlic fried to a crisp (golden, not burnt) will keep for quite a while, and you can just throw it out if you don't use it before it goes stale. Forget the eggs. Tamarind liquid keeps in the fridge. So. My visits go something like this:

Me: Hi Nan! [hugs and kisses] [awkward silence] Nan: Lethoke? period of about ten seconds [sound similar to that of the Creature from the Deep feeding from the carcass of a college freshmen]