While in Mae Sai I decided to sneak over the border for breakfast in Burma. Specifically, I was looking forward to eating a bowl of mohinga, the thick fish broth and rice noodle dish that’s often considered the unofficial national dish of that country. After a morning of wandering, I eventually found my mohinga, but not before running into several other interesting things.

My search began in the town’s hectic morning market:

I love fresh markets in Burma because they typically take place directly on the streets. The market just across the border in Mae Sai was in a dark, smelly building; better for protection from the rain, but far less photogenic and user friendly. Here virtually everything was stacked in neat piles on banana leaves out in the open.

After some wandering, I eventually found my mohinga, prepared at the stall shown at the top of this post. Although it may not look that attractive, it was good:

as it always is; Mohinga, like a hamburger (in my opinion, at least), is almost always good–never amazing and rarely bad.

It was getting later at this point, perfect time for a visit to another Burmese food fave of mine: a teashop. My first stop was at a Muslim teashop where I downed a glass of chai and two delicious slices of semolina cake:

My next tea stop was the popular, slightly more cosmopolitan Valentine:

where I had two more glasses and some greasy samosas:

Samosas, on the other hand, can often be pretty bad.

At this point I was feeling no little pride in the fact that I had successfully ordered the mohinga and all my teas in Burmese (essentially reaching the extent of my Burmese language skills). I was also reminded of the way the Burmese call the wait staff in restaurants: by making an annoying kissing sound.

On my way back to Thailand I came across yet another group of monks:

proving that, issues of food aside, things are pretty much the same on either side of the border.

Despite the amazing diversity of food in this country, much of the street food in Thailand is actually quite homogeneous; the same brand of bamee (wheat and egg noodles), Chai Sii, can be found in just about any town or city; central Thai dishes such as phat thai or phat sii iw are prepared at the farthest extremities of the country; and it’s become the exception rather than the norm to find regional dishes at night markets. Luckily, when I was recently in Mae Sai, Thailand’s northernmost town, I encountered the exception in khao soi noi, a Shan dish that, according to the incredibly detailed information on the cart (I didn’t manage to read all of it), has its origins in neighbouring Chiang Saen district. Although the name might suggest the famous northern curry noodle dish, it’s entirely different, and is probably more similar to bánh cuốn, the Vietnamese freshly-steamed noodle.

The first step involves spreading a dab of rice flour batter on a small tin, which is then steamed so it solidifies in a thin layer. When this was done, the vendor then handed me the warm tin and asked me to add whatever seasonings I liked. With her help, I think I managed to add just about her entire arsenal: ground sesame, ground peanuts, lime juice, garlic oil, soy sauce, MSG, three kinds of chili paste and dried chili powder. She took my custom mixture, added a bit more rice flour batter, mixed the entire mess once more and topped it with an egg:

A pinch of vegetables (thinly-sliced cabbage and fresh chilies) was sprinkled on top before putting the tray back in the steam. It’s worth pointing out that rather than somehow elevating it over steam as one would normally do, she simply let the dish float on rapidly boiling water:

It took about four minutes to steam each dish, and as seen above, her ’steamer’ can only hold one dish at a time. This meant some very slow going, which I mentioned to her. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you have to be patient to eat this dish!’

Eventually my khao soi noi was deemed ready and was served by folding it over on itself and topping it with a bit more of the cabbage mixture:

The result was something like a spicy Burmese pancake–eaten with chopsticks. I quite enjoyed it, particularly because I was aware that it was only in this particular town that I could eat this dish.

Khao Soi Noi
Street vendor, Th Phahonyothin, Mae Sai, Chiang Rai
4-8pm

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Mae Salong is a remote hilltop community of Chinese immigrants in Chiang Rai province. The majority of people who live here are the descendants of KMT fighters who, after the communist victory in 1949, fled to Burma and then Thailand. Despite having been away from China for so long, their culture is still very strong, and you’ll hear the Yunanese dialect of Chinese spoken much more than Thai (those who can speak Thai tend to do it with a funny Chinese accent). It goes without saying then that Chinese food, in particular dishes from Yunnan province, are also big here.

One of the best places to sample local food is at the morning market. It’s a tiny affair and starts early; it’s best to get there before 7am.

Beakfast at Mae Salong’s morning market means two things: soy milk and deep-fried fingers of dough (pictured at the top of this post). Unlike virtually every Thai person, I’m usually not a fan of this combo, but they were done so well here I had the same breakfast two days in a row. The paa thong kho (the Thai name for the deep-fried dough) were crispy without being oily, and the soy milk was thick and rich.

Other than shoppers, you’ll find the daily parade of monks at the market:

and members of the various local hill tribes:

Another breakfast option, if you’re a late riser, is a bowl of the town’s excellent egg and wheat noodles:

They’re topped with a mixture of thin slices of boiled pork, a homemade chili paste and deep-fried garlic. The dish is very popular and is available at several shops around town. This bowl was taken at a shop on the main stip called ‘Yunanist Noodle Shop’.

To my surprise, it was actually a bit of a struggle to find khao soi in Chiang Rai. This bowl is from Phor Jai, apparently one of the more famous khao soi joints in town, but I found it mediocre; the broth was quite bland and I’m not a big fan of this particular type of deep-fried noodle topping. The pickled veggies were good though, and some might like the fact that user-friendly diced chicken breast was used, rather than the typical chicken leg.

Khao Soi Phor Jai
Th Jet Yot, Chiang Rai
7am-4pm

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It’s been far too long and I apologize. I’ve been working furiously on the next edition of Lonely Planet’s Thailand, and simply haven’t had the time to blog. I am in Chiang Rai at the moment, doing research for Thailand, and will do my best to share the food discoveries I’ve been making up here.

Guided by an old issue of the Thai-language food magazine Khrua, my first great food find here in Chiang Rai is a local noodle restaurant called Paa Suk.

The signature dish here is naam ngiaw, a thin broth (usually pork, but here they also do a beef version) flavoured with a local chili paste and tomatoes, typically served over fresh khanom jeen noodles (’northern spaghetti’, if you will) . The pork version (pictured at the top of this post) was deliciously meaty, although I personally prefer the type served in Mae Hong Son that emphasizes sour tomatoes over meat. The dark cubes you see are coagulated blood, and the dish is served with sides of bean sprouts, pickled mustard cabbage and slices of lime.

They also do a very northern dish called khao kan jin:

This is rice that has been mixed with (again) blood, wrapped in a banana leaf, then steamed. The result is drizzled with garlic oil and served with fresh coriander, cucumber and green onion. Very nice, and you wouldn’t know there was blood involved unless I told you.

The restaurant is currently being run by the third generation of the same family, and now they even have a branch on Soi 3, Th Silom, in Bangkok, which I’ll be sure to investigate as soon as I get back.

Paa Suk
Th Sankhongnoi, Chiang Rai
053 752 471
7am-3pm

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