The plate they brought out looked like something designed by a deranged carnival cook on a grease-fueled bender: a mutant slab of deep-fried pork fat the size of a small child's torso, floating atop a sea of fried rice like some kind of twisted culinary iceberg.

They're showing what happens when you strip away seventy years of Soviet supply chain problems and culinary oppression, revealing the magnificent food culture that existed before, and survived after.

700 baht, about $21. In American money, that's barely enough to buy a decent bottle of Whiskey. But here in Pattaya, that same amount gets you into a wonderland of maritime excess that would make Poseidon himself weep with joy.