Fruit carving

Fruit Carving

On the way back from Europe in 1985, my ticket allowed for a 3 day stopover in Thailand. This was to be the first of many holidays for me in Thailand, ‘the land of smiles’.

I booked a day tour to the Rose Gardens, once a resort for wealthy Thais taking a break from the bustle of Bangkok. Now it is a showpiece of Thai culture in a magnificent garden setting.

My day started with an 8 a.m. pick up from my hotel. Although it is only 60km from the centre of Bangkok, the coach took the scenic route, stopping at a sugar cane factory for a morning tea break.

The coach arrived at the Rose Gardens in time for lunch and a walk through the arts and craft centre, before the start of the cultural show.

As I walked through the centre, admiring the local displays, I saw for the first time, a demonstration of fruit carving. I was fascinated by the blaze of colours and intricacy of the work. The lady demonstrators made it look so easy. I stood mesmerised as I watched watermelons being transformed into roses.

I saw many other aspects of Thai culture on that first visit; traditional dancing, kick boxing, working elephants, Thai temples and my first experiences with Thai food, but it was the fruit carving that captured my imagination.

Back in Australia I bought a watermelon, assembled my sharpest knives and started to work. The end result could be called many things, but ‘success’ does not appear in any of the descriptions. Over the next few months I destroyed several more watermelons before I admitted defeat. To say that the Thai ladies made it look simple is probably the biggest understatement I have ever made.

Several years later I was leafing through the latest batch of circulars that had been deposited in the mail box. One was from the local evening college, listing the courses for the coming term. I flicked through the pages and because I have an interest in good food, I paused in the cooking section. To my amazement, there was a six week course on Thai fruit and vegetable carving. My dormant desire was aroused.

Needless to say, I enrolled and over the next six weeks, I spent three hours each Tuesday at evening college. The teacher was a Thai lady who worked under contract for several Sydney hotels, providing carved fruit and vegetable displays for special occasions. She introduced me and the class to the Thai knives used for carving. On subsequent trips to Thailand I have built up my own collection.

I shared the class with a young chef who wanted to improve his skills and a number of older ladies who, like me, wanted to try. We started with simple designs using basic cutting techniques on carrots, cucumbers, leeks and onions. It progressed to more intricate designs and more detailed cutting with beetroot and small pumpkins. The pinnacle for me was when I carved a watermelon into a shape resembling a pineapple. The shape was immaterial; the spectacle of colour with white-tipped petals, cascading down over the red background, convinced me to keep going.

As a result of the preliminary course, I was invited to attend a more advanced class being conducted in the teacher’s own studio. Here the class was smaller and the work much more intricate. My hands were now responsible for the transformation of a watermelon into a simple rose. I took my first success home and photographed it for posterity. It is now in an album next to my first disastrous effort from 1985. It holds pride of place, along with ‘baby’s first steps’. When we need a laugh at a dinner party, I bring out the album.

After four Sunday afternoons I graduated with a basic skill in Thai fruit and vegetable carving. No certificate, no medallion, just a huge sense of satisfaction. I still cannot achieve the delicate designs of the ladies at the Rose Gardens, but I have satisfied my desires for carving fruit.

What am I doing with my newly learned skill? I provide table centre pieces for family dinners as well as providing something different and eye-catching for friends when they have a special event. My work has been displayed at weddings, 21^st birthdays and a christening. It was the talk of several works luncheons and office charity days; after the event, the display was auctioned for the charity of the day.

Twice a year, I attend a gathering at a Thai restaurant in Sydney. One at Christmas and the other is a Christmas in July dinner. I am pleased to supply the table centre piece for the enjoyment of everyone. The best compliment I received was when the Thai owner’s daughter asked if she could take one of my watermelons to school to show her class the art of Thai fruit carving.

There are some benefits, other than seeing pleasure on people’s faces. To sit engrossed for 2 or 3 hours working on a display is very therapeutic. The worries and stresses of the day dissolve as the work progresses…. And, I can eat my mistakes!

Ken Windsor © 2012