Thai Bite 2025 at Wat Buddha Oregon

This weekend I joined Thai Bite 2025 at Wat Buddha Oregon, a joyful fundraising event filled with food, music, and community. The day began in a beautiful way: people offered food to the monks, a tradition that connects generosity (ทาน, dāna) with the heart of Buddhist practice. Seeing everyone come together with offerings reminded me how giving sustains both the temple and the spirit of the community.

After the morning ceremony, the grounds came alive with the smell of authentic Thai food. Thai families from Oregon, and even some who traveled down from Seattle, cooked with so much love. There seemed to be endless choices: moo ping (หมูปิ้ง), naem khua (แหนมคั่ว), noodle soup, kaeng nor mai (แกงหน่อไม้), kai yang (ไก่ย่าง), moo yang (หมูย่าง), luk chin ping (ลูกชิ้นปิ้ง), som tum puu (ส้มตำปู), som tum Thai (ส้มตำไทย), and larb (ลาบ). For desserts, there was luk chup (ลูกชุบ), khanom chan (ขนมชั้น), roti sai mai (โรตีสายไหม), kao nueng na kung (ข้าวเหนียวน่ากุ้ง), foi thong (ฝอยทอง), ruam mit (รวมมิตร), lod chong (ลอดช่อง), khanom tua paap (ขนมถั่วแปป), khanom krok (ขนมครก), and many more. (see pictures here)

I came with my daughter, and we volunteered at a few different stations. We started by packaging Khanom Tua Paap (ขนมถั่วแปป) and then Naem Khua (แหนมคั่ว). Later we moved to the grill to help with Luk Chin Ping (ลูกชิ้นปิ้ง), pork balls and shrimp balls skewered on sticks. It was our first time grilling nearly a hundred of them; the work felt warm and steady. To our right, a team was making Khanom Krok (ขนมครก), an old dessert of coconut and rice flour cooked in a cast-iron pan into little warm, tender cups. To our left the aroma of Thai iced tea drifted by, sweet and cooling.

Between preparing food and the gentle chatter of volunteers, the air filled with Thai music and the graceful movement of traditional Thai dance. The dancers’ colorful costumes and deliberate gestures told stories, history and devotion woven into each step. Music and dance reminded me that this gathering was more than a market; it was culture in motion, practice and celebration together. A highlight was meeting a woman from Seattle, about my aunt’s age, who was making luk chup (ลูกชุบ), tiny, jewel-like sweets made from mung beans, sugar, and coconut milk, shaped into fruits and coated with a glossy jelly. Among her pieces was mangosteen (มังคุด), my favorite. As a child I could eat them by the pound. Seeing those little mangosteens brought back the memory of learning to make luk chup in school around fifth or sixth grade. I once made luk chup again when my child was small, over fifteen years ago, and I remember the patience it takes: shaping each piece, one by one. That patience is like practice: careful, slow, repeated attention transforms something plain into something beautiful.

Another dessert that touched me was khanom chan (ขนมชั้น), the layered sweet. Each layer is sticky and soft; we peel one layer at a time. If we rush or yank, the layer bounces back. Lately I’ve been going through some personal difficulties over the past six to seven months. Each layer of khanom chan felt like one of those obstacles, adhesive, needing gentle attention. If I try to pull past a layer forcefully, the issue returns; if I patiently peel and observe, the next layer reveals itself more clearly. Each layer is part of the whole, and each requires a different kind of care.

And then there was ruam mit (รวมมิตร), literally “mix of friends.” The dessert brings together many different ingredients: luk tan (ลูกตาล), water chestnuts, jackfruit, and more, all resting in coconut milk. Each piece has its own texture and flavor, and together they make a sweet harmony. Ruam mit reminded me of the Sangha (สังฆะ), the community that supports practice. Alone, each ingredient is simple; together they become nourishing. In the same way, during hard months I felt the gentle support of friends, family, and strangers, small acts that, when combined, make a refuge.

Buddhism teaches us to meet obstacles with awareness and kindness. Like khanom chan, patience lets us peel the layers without violence. Like luk chup, steady hands and attention shape things into beauty. Like ruam mit, community turns many small things into wholeness. At the heart of it, practice is both quiet and communal: an inner tending, and the warmth of others beside us.

Thai Bite 2025 was more than fundraising. It was an offering of food, time, and culture. It reminded me that generosity (ทาน), patience (ความอดทน), and community (ชุมชน) are woven together. Even while moving through personal difficulties, there are small moments of sweetness: laughter over a grill, the glossy gleam of a luk chup, the layered softness of khanom chan, and the mix of ruam mit—each one a gentle lesson.

สาธุ — thank you to everyone who cooked, donated, danced, and volunteered today!

khanom chan (ขนมชั้น)