CHIANG MAI, March 7 — This is the last place we expect to be looking for khao soi in Chiang Mai.
Navigating the small soi (street in Thai) in a residential neighbourhood away from the city centre, we wonder if we’re on a pointless mission.
Surely this is where people live and not where they offer bowls of egg noodles in coconut cream broth to complete strangers?
Our doubts continue till we come across the shop. Or is it a baan? It’s hard to tell because it looks like someone’s home. We’re not sure which. In Chiang Mai, houses double as both easily and frequently.
There is a small sign that confirms this is Nun’s Restaurant. Not just a home, then.
“Sawadeekrub!” we call out. “Umm, khao soi?”
The melodic voice of a woman replies, “Chai ka. Chern nang loey ka.” (Yes. Welcome, please sit.)
The woman, it turns out, is sitting at one of the few tables preparing raw vegetables for cooking, snapping each long bean at its natural break.
Though busy, she has time for a smile. She calls to the kitchen, and a man comes out.
This is Nun (pronounced “noon”) and he is both the cook and the waiter, it appears. Beaming at us, he offers us a simple menu.
There aren’t many items but we don’t need many. We are here for the khao soi, after all.
Nun cautions us that it will take a while for the dishes to arrive for it’s largely a one-man show; he’s slow at cooking but the food is good, he promises with a wink.
Minutes later (the other customers were already eating so he is swifter in the kitchen than warned), we can judge his boast for ourselves.
Our khao soi arrives in beautiful fish-shaped bowls, drawing us closer to investigate: blanched egg noodles in a soup that is part curry and part coconut cream; nuggets of chicken and pickled mustard greens; the perfume of chilli oil, fried shallots and fresh lime; and a crown of the same egg noodles deep-fried into crispy strips.
This is an avalanche of flavours and textures — savoury and nutty, slippery soft and thrilling crunch, rich yet not too heavy, spicy and tangy — and we savour every mouthful.
While this is clearly a neighbourhood where locals live, we see signs of entrepreneurial residents too.
A number of bed-and-breakfasts have sprung up to capitalise on foreign visitors who long for the backpacking experience, albeit where they can enjoy what folks in Chiang Mai actually eat.
Food is cheaper than in restaurants in the city centre and, they hope, more authentic too. The earliest form of khao soi is believed to have been brought to Chiang Mai by Muslim traders from Yunnan, China. So, unlike much of Thai fare one sees elsewhere like Bangkok, these dishes are halal.
Besides khao soi, the most recognisably halal Thai dish is massaman curry, a sweeter cousin to its spicier kin such as tom yum gai.
The rich coconut cream envelopes the hearty chunks of chicken and potatoes, with nutty notes of cashews. We’re glad we ordered plenty of rice to soak up this comforting gravy.
In addition to familiar Thai spices such as lemongrass and galangal, we detect less typical ones such as cardamom and nutmeg. It’s like discovering a touch of home in another land.
What happens when a dish is transported elsewhere, though? In Ekkamai — an increasingly gentrified part of Bangkok’s Sukhumvit district, but without the sky-high rents yet — there is a nondescript shop among a row of other similar shophouses.
The difference is, come lunchtime, this one draws all the crowds. The shop is called Hom Duan and in a city where every other stall seems to be offering pad Thai to tourists, it offers Northern Thai cuisine. This is where folks in the know come to get their khao soi fix in Bangkok.
We place our orders. The place is half full already, the tables neatly arranged in rows almost like a canteen.
Unlike other spots where table service is the norm, here you have to order at the counter and pick up your food yourself.
This is hardly a chore given the array of inviting Northern Thai curries and dishes on display at the counter, in the recognisable style of economy rice stalls in Malaysia. In Northern Thai cuisine, this style of serving is called khao gaeng.
So many choices: gaeng hang lay, the fattiness of the pork belly cut with copious amounts of ginger and garlic; fiery nam prik ong, an unusual pork and chilli paste rarely seen in Bangkok; tum kanoon or spicy chilli jackfruit; and the traditional Northern Thai sausage called sai oua; and many more.
The larger space and tables, as compared to the small baan in Chiang Mai, means it’s easy to order more dishes to share over individual bowls of steaming rice. But for all the joys of communal eating, don’t forget to order a bowl of khao soi just for yourself.
Hom Duan’s khao soi is lighter on the coconut cream compared to Nun’s Restaurant, which might be to cater to the tastes of diners in Bangkok or it could be their own take. It doesn’t matter; it’s just as delicious although different.
Part of that change in scenery is the profusion of cafés in Ekkamai. Many head next door to Ink & Lion, a specialty coffee bar for their post-lunch cuppas. It’s a much needed “lunch cap” to boost their energy levels before returning to the office, especially after a filling meal at Hom Duan.
Rather than jarring, this brings a new dimension to our khao soi experience. Why not some filter coffee brewed with beans, also from the northern regions? There is a connection here, however tenuous.
It’s okay to be different. Be it a baan that is probably someone’s home or a shop surrounded by third wave coffee bars, good food can be found anywhere. Deciding what is similar and what is not is much of the fun of travelling, be it the dish or the diner.
It’s the taste of discovery.
Nun’s Restaurant
7/1 Rachadamnoen Rd Soi 5, Chiang Mai, Thailand
Open daily (except Sun closed) 11am–8pm
Tel: +66 86 184 9258
Hom Duan
Soi 2, Sukhumvit 63, Ekkamai, Bangkok, Thailand
Open daily (except Sun closed) 8am-8pm
Tel: +66 85 037 8916
