I don't think Phil was too keen on the idea, giving prions as a lame excuse. But they were out of brains that day anyway, so he got off easily. However on a recent visit to Banglamphu I wasn't so lucky; they hadn't yet run out of brains, and I finally got a try. What I'm referring to is tom yam samong muu, pig brain tom yam.
This unusual -- even for Bangkok -- dish is served in an ancient townhouse in Bangkok's Banglamphu neighbourhood owned an extremely friendly 80-year old man:
His father, an immigrant from China (and who eventually lived to be 94 -- the result of a diet of pig brains?), was the original owner. He reckons his father started the restaurant up during the early years of WWII, and little, including the positively medieval kitchen, appears to have changed since then. He now runs the place with his daughter.
Undoubtedly due to his father's influence, the man told us that the style of pig brain tom yam he makes is the Chinese style (Thai-style pig brain tom yam is available just across the street, he explained). In fact his signature dish doesn't only contain pig brains; there are bits of liver, tubular lengths of intestine and pork balls (no, not pork testicles, meatballs), among other meaty bits I wasn't able to identify. The dark brown bits you see are, if I remember correctly, battered deep-fried chunks of taro, which were particularly tasty.
He told us that most people eat the soup with a bowl of rice, dipping the meats in a tiny side dish of spicy dipping sauce first, then eating it with the rice. His dipping sauce was in fact delicious, and was made from tiny pickled chilies ground up with salt.
The verdict? Not bad, but not amazing. As pictured above, the broth appears thick and cloudy, but wasn't as rich as it looks. And I'm more put off by intestines than brain, which to be honest was actually very similar in flavour and texture to soft tofu. I'm thinking of using it as a tofu substitute for vegan recipes.
Tom Yam Samong Muu 11 Phraeng Phuthon 086 772 1600 9am-4pm Mon-Sat
well, I'm not exactly sure what, but it certainly is in the press lately. First of all, 
When I was up in Chiang Rai I had excellent northern-style noodles at a place called 
The bowl above is, for now at least, the final entry in my gratuitous khao soi series. I had eaten at this same khao soi shop nearly a decade ago when a friend and I were doing some exploring in Doi Phu Kha National Park in Nan. After a few days in the jungle, we eventually emerged at Ban Bo Klua, and at what appeared to be the town’s only restaurant found both food and accommodation. I don’t recall what we thought of the khao soi then, but I was sure I wanted to eat it again this time, the opportunity being a perfect nostalgic bookend to my seven-part epic khao soi feature.
Seen at a restaurant in Baan Huay Kon, Nan.
Ban Bo Luang lies in far western Nan province, only a dozen kilometres from the Lao border. The town is nestled in an incredibly picturesque valley with forested mountains on either side and is inhabited by three ethnic groups: Htin, Lua and northern Thai. The town is colloquially known as Ban Bo Klua (Salt Well Village) because the town's well produces extremely salty water. You'd think this would be horrible luck (in fact there are freshwater wells and a beautiful stream there as well), but from this well the locals have been extracting ‘mountain salt’ for an estimated 300 years.
Phayao, a small town that most Thais aren’t even aware exists, turned about to be one of the more pleasant destinations of my trip. The town’s setting at the edge of a vast swamp is a lot more interesting than it sounds, and the city also had some very tasty food
Som tam, green papaya salad, is probably the most popular dish in Thailand. The dish likely originates in northeastern Thailand, or perhaps Laos, but can now be found in virtually every corner of the country. It's equal parts cheap, spicy, quick and satisfying, leaving little wonder why it's become so popular.
This bowl of chicken khao soi was downed in the lovely city of Nan. The restaurant is located about a two-minute walk from Wat Phumin, my favourite Buddhist temple in Thailand. Wat Phumin's Buddhist murals, executed by a Thai Lue artist called Thit Buaphan in the late 19th century, are exquisite; this bowl of khao soi was merely acceptable. Sweet was the dominating flavour, if I remember correctly, although the dab of plain coconut cream was a welcome aesthetic flourish.
Nan, a little-visited city in northern Thailand, has a great atmosphere, an attractive setting, friendly people and some of the most beautiful temples in the country. Unfortunately, it also has one of the worst eating scenes of any city in Thailand.
Located almost exactly halfway between Chiang Saen and Sop Ruak ('The Golden Triangle'), Jinda's Kitchen claims to have been making northern-style dishes for 50 years. They have a small menu of only about six or eight items, one of which was, of course, khao soi. Her version was decent, a little on the bland side, I must admit, but her khanom jeen nam ngiaw (unfortunately I ate it before I remember to take a pic) was fantastic, probably among the best I've consumed. Either way, it's worth a stop, as there's little in the way of good food, particularly that of the local variety, in this corner of Chiang Rai.
Andy Ricker, owner of 
If you can read Thai, and spend enough time in northern Thailand, eventually you'll start to see the word luu on restaurant signs just about everywhere. I had a vague notion of this northern dish, knew it was something blood-related, and noticed that it always seemed to be found to be at restaurants that serve the famous northern-style laap. But other than this, I had never seen or sampled it. Recently in Phrae, I was able to get a crash course in luu.
If you'll allow me to backtrack a bit, I forgot to mention that I did eventually find a decent version of khao soi in Chiang Rai. Sold at the side of the street under two gigantic trees, Somkhuan Khao Soi does a pretty good bowl, his broth having the smokey flavour of chako, a dried spice that some vendors use in their curry paste mixture. Khanom jeen nam ngiaw is also available.
I didn't manage to find a whole lot of regional Thai food in the tiny riverfront town of Chiang Saen. Even the town's night market had the tired 'franchise' vendors selling the same dishes you'll find just about everywhere in Thailand nowadays. However the fact that cargo boats from Jinghong, in Yunnan province, dock at Chiang Saen meant that there were a couple interesting Chinese options. In particular, I had a great breakfast at Ah Ying, a family-run noodle joint located across the street from the Mekong River. I was pretty sure I was getting authentic Chinese-style noodles here because a) the entire family was speaking Chinese and b) the noodles were hand-pulled.
This may look like just another bowl of beef khao soi, but they do things a bit differently at Khao Soi Islam, in Mae Sai. Rather than the typical yellow wheat and egg noodles, this version, which they call pa pa soi, employed thick noodles made from brown rice. The noodles were short and coarse, and had the texture and appearance of boiled taro, which is initially what I thought they were. Another interesting thing about this restaurant was that the owners, Thai Muslims of Chinese extraction, and staff communicated in a seemingly flawless mixture of Chinese, central Thai, northern Thai and Burmese.
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.
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 
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.
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.