My old university friend Rob says: 'We've got to have some ant eggs.'
He is going through one of my guidebooks. It is our second day in Laos. Little does he know that, in a few days' time, after a surfeit of stuffed frog and noodle soup, he will order a Cornish pasty for supper.
But I'm leaping ahead of myself. We're in Vientiane, the administrative capital, on the first leg of our cross-Laos food crawl.
A city more in name than appearance, Vientiane is a sprawl of suburban villages loosely bound by newly paved roads. It offers a patchwork of cuisines as well, everything from excellent Vietnamese pho and steamboat to Scandinavian waffles, Indian restaurants (full of British tourists) and yummily ubiquitous roadside banana murtabak with condensed milk.
However, we're looking for ant eggs. We have no luck at Nang Kham Bang restaurant, though we do feast on delicious crispy fried quail and minced-fish laap (salad) fragrant with fresh herbs.
The Weird and Wonderful: Stuffed frog from Soukvimane Restaurant.
Soukvimane restaurant has a signed photo of world-renowned Swiss-born chef Anton Mosimann on the wall, and quirky dishes like vinegar-pickled fish roe, large white flowers stuffed with minced pork and steamed, and fried stuffed frog, but 'ant eggs are not in season now', says the manager.
Lao food is tricky to describe but unmistakeable once you've had it. It's less spicy than Thai, plainer than Vietnamese and less reliant than either of its neighbours on opposing taste contrasts like sweet-sour or salty-sweet.
It weaves amazingly subtle flavour profiles with countless fresh herbs, pickled and preserved seafoods, protein foods that range from very tasty pork to wild mushrooms and insects, and pungent spices used with precision.
It's food that follows a rural rhythm and seems to speak of the quiet endurance of the Lao people. Historically, Thai, French and Vietnamese claims on the country have waxed and waned, and communism is slowly calling a truce with capitalism, but one gets the sense that culinary traditions have kept their integrity through all of the upheavals.
Talat Khua Din, the huge, humming wet market where the locals shop, abounds with unusual sights - mounds of yellow tripe, fish with snake-like scale patterns, a man patiently stirring the contents of a single eggshell over hot coals - but ant eggs, nope.
The Weird and Wonderful:The Talat Kua Din wet market is bursting with colours.
Oh well. We're cool. We sit by the Mekong, drink cold Beerlao and listen to syrupy Laotian pop. There's plenty of time yet.
As it turns out though, we leave a day earlier than planned. Truth is, Rob and I both grew up in dusty grey cities, and we're hankering for landscape. We head for Vang Vieng.
Down by the river
Vang Vieng is a place of natural beauty and imported inhabitants. It exists mostly for the sake of backpackers - and increasingly, wealthier leisure tourists - who come here for trekking, kayaking, climbing and tubing.
This last activity involves floating down the Nam Song river in a large inner tube from old car wheels, enjoying the sunshine sparkling on the water, stopping numerous times at riverside bars along the way to drink Beerlao, until you more or less can't tell which way is up.
Despite all the falang (foreign) flimflam - like the TV bars that play Friends episodes ad infinitum for slack-jawed viewers high on 'space pizza' supposedly spiked with hallucinogenics - you can still enjoy tranquil moments.
Standing on a bamboo bridge, I watch laughing village kids flip about in the water like fish, while the sinking sun's last rays set the riverbank grass momentarily afire.
One morning, inspired by the delicious curry I've had at a cafe in town, I decide to visit Phoudindaeng Organic Farm. Stupidly, I opt to walk the 4km there and the sun scorches my idiot head to a crisp.
Thankfully, among the farm restaurant's specialities is a stupendous mulberry milkshake, maroon-marbled, thick and wondrously frosty. With it, I crunch on delicate mulberry-leaf tempura.
Life is good. Later, I take a tuk-tuk back to town to watch Rob eat his pasty. It is not bad, apparently.
Another day, I book a leisurely tour of Nam Ngum Lake, a dam-flooded river valley an hour's drive out of town.
The lake is mirror-like under the clear sky. Blue water laps on vermilion sand at the feet of green trees, the colours crayon-vivid.
For lunch, our small party - a guide, the boatman and his son, two giggly Korean girls and me - glides to a stop on a tiny island about 30m across. It is wonderfully quiet, the only sound is of leaves rustling in the wind.
Our guide stuffs large fish with spring onions, lemongrass, garlic and fish sauce before grilling them over hot coals. With the crusty, aromatic results, we have sticky rice, pickled greens and a strange fermented relish that looks like crud but tastes unexpectedly appealing, like kiam chye with a marmalade-like citrus edge.
No ant eggs, but plenty of ants, which cart away the rice we drop.
On the way back to town, we are all quiet, our stomachs and eyes filled with beautiful things.
Of monks and meals
The minibus reels leisurely between towering, shaggy green mountains. I poke my nose out of the window like a dog, inhaling the clean air.
Behind me in the bus, a cheerful German woman backpacker relentlessly regales the other passengers with tales of the 4,000 cheeses of her homeland. Rob is grateful he is sitting up front with the driver.
Six hours later, we arrive in Luang Prabang. This Unesco World Heritage site turns out not only to have the most ornate temples and prettiest old colonial houses, but also the best food of the trip.
The next few days pass by in a blur of fantastic grub.
At Restaurant Brasserie L'Elephant, we join a crowd of diners eager for bonhomie and ribsticking French cuisine bourgeois. Van-Gogh-green watercress soup is vividly flavourful, while wild boar pate with cognac and green peppercorns is as good as you could wish to find in any Provençal auberge.
A gorgeous pan-seared water buffalo steak comes with frites and a side salad that is exquisitely French in its ruffled pertness.
From the morning wet market next to the Palace Museum, I buy an extraordinary grilled pork chop, so succulent it drips juice with every bite.
A nameless noodle stall opposite Wat Saen temple serves me local-style kao soi: kway teow in clear broth, topped with a thick minced-pork sauce and showered with fresh herbs and bits of puffed rice cake.
Ms Caroline Gaylard, a calm Australian who owns and runs Tamarind Cafe with a Lao partner, answers my query with: 'Oh, we had some ant eggs in only just the other day, you should've come then.'
I try not to bang my head against the wall, but my disappointment is soothed by a lovely sampler platter of jaews (Laotian relishes). Across the road, an artist paints a picture of a temple, watched intensely by young monks.
'This. Is. Fan. Tas. Tic,' says the Italian chap at the next table as he tucks into fish mousse and river shrimp steamed in banana leaves. I salute. I've just eaten the same glorious dish.
We're at Restaurant 3 Nagas, famed for refined traditional Laotian cuisine. Grilled buffalo and pork sausage is lightly gamy under its crisp skin.
Or lam, a classic Luang Prabang speciality of buffalo braised with vegetables and herbs, is hauntingly flavoured with sa khan wood, a tongue-tingling spice that tastes of lemon and sansho pepper.
After coconut ice cream drizzled with a swoonsome Lao coffee syrup, I have to surrender. My mind is still hungry but my stomach can hold no more.
It's the last morning in Luang Prabang. Rob has flown off the evening before, so I stagger alone, half-awake, to the centre of town to watch Tak Bat, the daily alms-giving ceremony.
The 5am air is chilly and blue-tinted. Here come the monks, a long orange ribbon of devotion that winds through the streets as the hands of the laity press sticky rice and small bundles into bronze bowls. Grateful looks are exchanged all round.
I also feel blessed in my interaction with the gracious Lao people. They include the Vientiane chicken-seller who flashed me a Hollywood smile, the teen monks who shyly tried to speak English and the auntie who thanked me kindly for choosing her banana murtabak over those of the dozen other stalls nearby.
But I haven't 'met'' the ants. I know I'll be back for them.
5 things to do
1 Do have a Laotian barbecue. Don't miss Laotian-style charcoal BBQ in Vientiane and Luang Prabang. The BBQ vessel is bowler-hat-shaped: You grease the 'dome' with lard and grill the food on it, and the juices drip into a moat of simmering stock in the 'brim'.
2 Do enjoy a picnic. Ample scenic spots plus plenty of bakeries and cafes that do takeout equals picnic time. Stock up on baguette sandwiches, grilled items and drinks and find somewhere idyllic to do lunch. Tat Kuang Si and Tat Sae waterfalls near Luang Prabang are highly recommended.
3 Do stay in a guesthouse. For a real taste of Laotian life, avoid five-star hotels and stay at small family-run guesthouses. Low-frill but high-fun and great value - a twin room at a mid-range guesthouse costs between US$10 (S$15.30) and US$20 per night. Check out www.laos-hotel-link.com
4 Do take a cooking class. Luang Prabang has a few restaurants (and at least one guesthouse, the delightful Vanvisa, tel: 71-212-925) that conduct cooking classes. I took a fun one-day course at Tamnak Lao, aka Three Elephants Cafe (Thanon Sisavangvong, tel: 71-252-525, e-mail tamnaklp@yahoo.com.au).
5 Do have a massage. Feeling a bit dizzy from too much sun - or food? In Luang Prabang, go to the Lao Red Cross (Thanon Wisunarat), where for just under US$4, extremely capable aunties will take an hour to render you soft and boneless.
2 dont's
1 Don't be an ugly tourist and complain about the slow pace of things. Learn to go with the relaxed flow of Laotian life. Use the time to pay attention to the surroundings and local culture.
2 Don't be too conservative. Laos is the place to try unusual things, like frog and brinjal 'bouillabaisse', or grilled tapioca patties, or buffalo-skin sambal (yummy). As long as they're hot and fresh off the grill or out of the pot, they should be fine.
Vientiane
Soukvimane Restaurant, Ban Sisaket, near the That Dam black stupa, tel: 214-441. A little pricey for Vientiane, but good. From US$10 (S$15.30) per person.
Nang Kham Bang restaurant, 97 Thanon Khun Bulom, tel: 217-198. Cheerful 'cze-char' type place. From US$4 per person.
Scandinavian Bakery, Nam Phu square, tel: 215-231. More permutations of pastry, icing, chocolate and clouds of fresh cream than you ever thought possible. From US$1.50.
Luang Prabang
Restaurant Les 3 Nagas, Thanon Sakkarin (near Wat Nong), tel: 71-253-750, www.3nagas.com/english.htm A must-try. From US$20 per person.
Tamarind Café, facing Wat Nong temple main gate, www.tamarindlaos.com Book ahead for full-on Laotian feasts. From US$6 per person.
Restaurant Brasserie L'Elephant, on the corner opposite Wat Nong, tel: 71-252-482, www.elephant-restau.com/ From US$25 per person.
Park Houay Mixay, Thanon Sisavang Vatthana, tel: 71-212-260. Family-style place with large menu. From US$7 per person.
JoMa Bakery Café, Thanon Chao Fa Ngum. Great coffee, chewy bagels, awesomely creamy home-made yoghurt. From US$3 per person.
Vang Vieng
Phoudindaeng Organic Farm ( www.laofarm.org ) is 4km north of downtown Vang Vieng on the only main road. The Organic Farm Café, its branch in town, is on Thanon Luang Prabang. From US$4 per person. Street names and spellings can vary a bit. However, the town and city centres are so small, you can pretty much find anything just by asking around and walking a bit.
