Aunt Priew cooking up a storm in her Chiang Rai kitchen
Laab (also spelled larp, lob, or lop) is the star of the show at Raan Larb Pa Than, an open-air eatery specializing in laab dee kom, which is flavored with dashes of beef bile. Pair it (as the locals like to do) with a bowl of nam prik ta daeng—a red-eye chili paste of I’m-gonna-kill you intensity—and a bottle of Sang Som whiskey, and your afternoon can veer swiftly into uncharted territory.
A stupa at Wat Chedi Luang, in the heart of Chiang Mai’s moat-ringed Old Town
Thankfully, I don’t have time for such diversions on this visit. Instead, over the next few days, i sample as much of Chiang Mai’s most recommended street food as i can, from the crisped pork in gravy on rice (khao moo krob) at Guay Jab Sam Kasat to the vegetarian stir-fries at Raan Jay Yai. At Sa-Ard, a bare-bones outlet on Intrawarorot road, I slurp noodles and fish meatballs from a broth fragrant with deep-fried garlic, then head down the street to gied ocha for slabs of tender chicken on rice grains plumped with chicken fat. With a group of friends, i test the stamina of the lone cook at Haan Tung Jiengmai, ordering fried rice with green chili paste and bowls of pounded young jackfruit. The offerings at these places are all heartbreakingly delicious.
Still, it’s the “holy trinity” of northern thai food that most of the people who venture into lanna country are looking for: nam prik num, a paste of roasted young green chilies; nam prik ong, a mild, familyfriendly relish of pork, tomatoes, and fermented soybeans; and, of course, khao soi, Chiang Mai’s famous curried egg noodles. All three are out in full force on the tables at huen phen. Located just south of wat Chedi Luang in the heart of the moatbounded Old Town, this is the go-to spot for almost every visitor new to northern thai cooking. While by day the restaurant retains its down-home roots as an open roadside kitchen, come evening, the action moves into the house out back, where rooms are cluttered with antiques and knickknacks.
