When 'Sticky Rice' Bares Its Fangs: The Not-So-Sweet Relationship Between Isan Cuisine and the Liver

A Bangkok afternoon. That thick, humid air rushes in the moment the heavy automatic doors of the office building open. Since the temperature in foreign-owned offices is set so low it feels like a bug in the system, this 'baptism of Thailand' actually feels surprisingly soothing to a body chilled to the bone.

I've been living in Bangkok for five years. I'm 35. Single.
I hold a reasonably responsible job at a foreign company, and on weekends, I have brunch at stylish cafes in Sukhumvit. I thought I was living my life smartly and 'sabai' in my own way.

Today's lunch is at a nearby Isan food stall with my team members.
This is the fuel for those of us working in Bangkok. Gracing the table are Som Tum with its bursting acidity and Gai Yang with its irresistible charcoal aroma. And, of course, the one thing that makes it all complete is the freshly steamed Khao Niao (sticky rice) waiting for its turn inside a small woven bamboo basket called a 'Kratip'.

I wet my fingertips slightly and roll the piping hot sticky rice into a ball.
I dip it into the spicy nam jim and pop it into my mouth. With every chew, the dense sweetness of the rice and that unique, clinging elasticity overflow.
'Ah, I'm so glad I live in Thailand...'
Whispering that to myself, I was savoring the modest happiness of a single career woman.

But then, an event occurred that poured cold water on that blissful time.
Last week, I received the results of the mandatory company health checkup. Alone in my air-conditioned office, I froze.
'Suspected Non-Alcoholic Fatty Liver Disease (NAFLD)'
A disgraceful label that doesn't suit a 35-year-old career woman who is supposed to be meticulous about self-management.
I only drink wine on weekends, and I go to the gym once a week. I prided myself on the fact that health management was part of the job to survive in a foreign company. Yet, the numbers cruelly pointed a 'NO' at me.

Analyzing it objectively, the cause is clearer than day.
The GI value of Khao Niao, the staple food of Isan cuisine, far exceeds that of refined white rice, sometimes reaching a value close to 100. This means it is a 'lump of carbohydrates' that causes blood sugar levels to explode the moment it is consumed, leading to excessive insulin secretion.
Even though it sits there with an innocent face, tucked away in such a cute basket, its true identity is a super-heavyweight hard puncher that relentlessly attacks the liver.
For modern desk workers who cannot immediately burn off sugar as energy, daily Khao Niao is nothing more than an act of forcibly accumulating 'fat savings' in the storage warehouse that is the liver.

Hey, can you believe it?
That sticky rice I loved so much was actually hiding 'fangs' that were quietly, but surely, eroding my liver.

And that wasn't the only shock.
Som Tum, which I ate while making excuses to myself like, 'It's healthy because it's vegetable-based.'
One day, I watched the movements of the stall lady in slow motion. What was being pounded together with the papaya in the small mortar, the khrok?
It was a large chunk of palm sugar.
The moment the lady tossed it in with a thud, as if she were avenging her parents, my confidence in my health crumbled with a sound.
The peace of mind that I was eating vegetables was actually just a license or camouflage for consuming massive amounts of sugar.
This 'unconscious excess of carbohydrates' was the invisible culprit cornering the livers of us who work beautifully and vigorously in Bangkok.

It's not that Isan food culture is bad.
Back in the day, under the scorching sun, when people moved their bodies all day in vast fields, this high-energy meal was the best fuel to sustain their lives.
But what about our lives now?
We commute in air-conditioned BTS trains or Grab taxis. Work is just facing a computer at a comfortable desk.
The energy that has lost its place to be consumed has nowhere to go and continues to reside in my liver in the form of 'fat.' The update of our culture has not kept up with our low-metabolism lifestyle.

The irresistible sleepiness that hits me right after lunch when I return to my desk.
That unique feeling where my head feels dizzy.
That wasn't just the lingering happiness of being full.
It might have been a desperate scream from my liver, crying out, 'I've reached my limit!'

When I think about that, I feel sorry for my own body.
More than wanting to be loved by someone or wanting a boyfriend, I realized that I have to be the one who loves my own body, which supports me closest to me, the most.

But, excluding my favorite Thai food from my life, isn't that too sad?
So, I decided to find an 'intellectual compromise.'

First, I'll cut that tempting Khao Niao to half the usual amount.
And I'll give myself the option of 'Khao Riceberry' (which I hear is a daily staple for JIJI), which I've started seeing often in stylish cafes lately.

Those vibrant purple grains are packed with anthocyanins, which have antioxidant properties, and above all, they have a low GI value and are gentle on the liver.
Then, I decided to be creative with the order in which I eat.
First, I'll start with the savory Gai Yang (protein) to put the brakes on a rapid spike in blood sugar. This is what's called 'protein first.'
And I'll have the courage to tell the stall lady with a smile, 'Mai waan' (don't make it sweet).

I love Thailand and I enjoy Thai flavors.
But I want to value my future just as much.
Because a 'sabai' life is the ultimate luxury that can only be achieved with a healthy liver.

Now, what should I eat for lunch tomorrow?
Searching for new places on delivery apps where I can choose Riceberry instead of Khao Niao is a new pleasure for me now.
35 years old, living in Bangkok.
Little by little, while communicating with my own body, I intend to walk through this city more wisely and more freely.

Is your liver laughing right now?