Phật Đản (Buddha's Birthday) in Hanoi 2025 | Vietnam

I briefly returned to old stomping grounds around Hoan Kiem lake to start cleaning out a storage unit I have in town. Totally coincidentally, I literally walked into the local parade for Buddha’s birthday, which is not an official holiday in Vietnam, and was celebrated a day early around dinnertime. Not much to say about it . . . Buddha was supposedly born May 14thish 653 BC in Nepal.

Kbal Spean | Cambodia

Back in Siem Reap after two and a half years, I’ve found myself reviewing all my old photos and videos to see what I missed and what I’d like to revisit. The first time I was at Angkor and its surrounds, it was genuinely overwhelming- there was so much to see and understand, all of it of course totally foreign to me. Looking back through my snapshots, I’m reminded daily that I indeed have forgotten more interesting places than most people have ever been. That’s not a humblebrag- it’s a disappointment- I wish my mind was a highlight reel of all the amazing things I’ve experienced rather than a checklist of daily necessities like everyone else’s.

I really struggled with how to format this post, but settled on FAQ.

is it far from town/what transportation do i need?

My first visit to Kbal Spean is a perfect example of the unfortunate phenomenon mentioned above. I vaguely remembered it being a bit of a hike, that’s all. Upon looking into it, the Kulen hills are 60 km from Siem Reap proper, 30 km slightly northeast of Angkor, in Phnom Kulen National Park. Banteay Srei is about the halfway point between Angkor and Kbal Spean. I remember it as a long ride on mostly good but some sort of rough dirt roads, which we definitely did in a remorque, not a car; motorcycles would work too. Apparently, those traveling with an official tour guide can park at an army base camp and hike for about 2km. Those going solo are not necessarily permitted at the army station and might have to start hiking 1.5 km further down the mountain.

Also, prepare your victuals- water, snacks, etc.- pack them in a cooler before leaving town. You can definitely get some fruit and something grilled from roadside sellers on the way, but there’s no one selling drinks anywhere near/in the national park.

Jean Boulbet, 1975.

is the hike long/difficult?

It’s an intermediate-level 45 to 60 minute hike. It is not handicap accessible. Though the trail is only 2 km, it’s entirely uphill, on slippery and rocky terrain, through the forest. I only seem to have taken two photos of the walk- one from a clearing where I could finally get a view of the surrounding hills, and one of what I think (I could be wrong) is the biggest tamarind I’ve ever seen, open and desiccated. Just by the correct spot, there’s a rickety wooden staircase that brings you down beneath a small waterfall to the site.

when should i visit?

Starting in December, after the southwest monsoon season ends, and the water starts dropping, the carvings become visible in a150 m stretch of riverbed. It does take a while for the water to dry up though. So, the best time to visit is between January and April; as it gets dryer and dryer, more carvings are visible. I went in November, and looking back, it’s unclear to me how much I didn’t see because it was underwater.

It is relatively safe to go in the water, and the weather is obviously incredibly hot, so most tour guides invite you to. The fall pool is shallow, and you can walk along the carved riverbed, but it is very rocky, and the water was running quickly when I went in November anyway, so use common sense and wear hiking sandals or swimshoes. It’s an odd mix of visitors; big tour groups and local kids, bikini clad Europeans and Hindu pilgrims, there are no rules per se.

how old is it and who built it?

The oldest lingas are from the 800s, but most of it’s 900-1000 years old, with carving beginning under King Suryavarman I of the Khmer Empire (who ruled from 1006 to 1050), and continuing under his successor King Udayadityavarman II (who ruled from 1050 to 1066). According to the rock inscriptions, many of the carvings were done c. 1054. There are also a few later carvings, from the 13th and possibly 14th centuries.

bas-relief from Baphuon Temple, circa 1060

what religion is it?

King Suryavarman I and King Udayadityavarman II were both Buddhist converts, but at the time the majority of Khmers were Hindu, and they did practice both. At that time, Buddhism wasn’t recognized as a wholly different religion from Hinduism. The Cambodian royal family is still, nominally, Hindu, actually. Both kings built, and authorized others to build, Hindu, Buddhist, and half-and-half monuments. Kbal Spean is a Hindu site, primarily devoted to Shiva but also depicting Vishnu, Brahma, Lakshmi, Rama, and Hanuman, as well as symbolic animals including cows and frogs. The thousand lingas were carved during Suryavarman I’s reign by hermits patronized by one of his ministers. Most of the figural carvings, and of course additional lingas, were carved during Udayadityavarman II’s reign. Inscriptions on the site tell us Udayadityavarman II personally consecrated a golden lingam here in 1059.

Two Khmer golden lingas date 7th - 12th c., auctioned off at Sotheby’s Hong Kong in 2022.

Two more from the same collection/sale.

what does kbal spean mean?

Kbal Spean means Head Bridge in Khmer.

The bridge part of the name is obvious; a block of natural rock spans the stream, and the heavily carved ‘thousand lingas’ resemble a cobblestone road.

The second thing I noticed was the “bridge” with the thousand lingas and some linga-yonis. To quote the venerable wikipedia:

The lingam of the Shaivism tradition is a short cylindrical pillar-like symbol of Shiva. It is often represented within a disc-shaped platform. The yoni- its feminine counterpart- consists of a flat element, horizontal compared to the vertical lingam, and is designed to allow liquid offerings to drain away for collection.

The origin of Kbal is less clear; the obvious interpretation is that the bridge is at the source of the river, just as we say headwater in English.

However, Kapala is the Sanskrit word for skull, or more specifically, a ritual skull cup. Further, the Kapalika, or skullmen, are a now extinct but once widespread monastic order of ascetic, tantric, non-puranic Shaivists who used human skulls as begging bowls. Though not incredibly well attested, their popularity seems to have been at its height when Kbal Spean was carved.

Aghoris are the sole remaining Shaivist sect still using human skulls in their religious rituals.

To wit, in Act III of a popular Sanskrit play of the time, Prabodha Chandrodaya (Rise of the Moon of Intellect) by Shri Krishna Mishra, a male Kāpālika ascetic and his consort, a female Kāpālini, disrupt a dispute on the "true religion" between a mendicant Buddhist wanderer and a Jain Digambara monk, with both ending up convinced by the Kāpālika couple to give up their vows of celibacy and renunciation by drinking red wine and indulging in sensual pleasure with women. In the end, both the Buddhist and Jain reject their former religions, and convert to Shaivism, having embraced Shiva Bhairava as the Supreme God along with his wife Parvati.

a 16th century Nepalese copy of Rise of the Moon of Intellect held at the British Library

From the 8th through 15th centuries most Khmers were Devaraja cult Shaivite Hindus, the national god being Shiva Bhadreshvara. So what’s the link between Bhadreshvara and Bhairava? Bhadreshvara is a highly venerated phallic image associated with Lord Shiva. This depiction holds significant religious importance, symbolizing the divine attributes of Shiva and his role in the spiritual practices of worshippers. The thousand lingas of the riverbed are Shiva Bhadreshvara. The sexual leniency of the Kapalikas, though widely despised by other Hindu sects, may have been perceived neutrally or favorably in Cambodia.

Tantric goddess Bhairavi and her consort Shiva depicted as Kāpālika ascetics, sitting in a charnel ground. Painting by Payāg from a 17th-century manuscript (c. 1630–1635), Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.

Further, the Cambodian Devaraja type of Shaivism emphasizes God-King worship. Bhairava, as the “fearsome” aspect of Shiva (produced just from the anger channeled in a furrowed brow) cut off Brahma’s fifth head, killing him temporarily, to punish Brahma’s deceit and arrogance in declaring himself the supreme creator, and challenging Shiva’s position as the ultimate reality— exactly the type of victorious, vengeful, omnipotent, rivalless God-King the Khmer kings hoped to be.

To quote Philip Coggan:

Six hundred years of Khmer kings disguised as gods (6th through 14th centuries). All were done during the lifetime of the king. They represent the king as devaraja, god-king, so that the king could be represented as Shiva (the god with a third eye in the middle of the forehead) in a statue in a Shivaite temple, Vishnu (four arms) in another temple, and as Buddha in Buddhist temples (Buddhism was not regarded as a distinct religion).

Devaraja statues had two purposes, to identify the king as the legitimate source of power, derived from the god, and, through copies set up in temples throughout the kingdom, to mark his domains. Hence the need for recognisable portraits – they were identifying individual kings. If the kingdom fractured, as it sometimes did, rival claimants to the throne would set up their own statues, but these would be destroyed when the kingdom was reunified.

The devaraja cult lives on today – the king is still an incarnation of the god Vishnu, which accounts for the popularity of the Vishnu shrine on the Riverfront in front of the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh.

Additionally, in the Mahayana Buddhism of the time, which is what Suryavarman I and Udayadityavarman II would have been exposed or partially converted to, not the Theravada Buddhism that swept Cambodia three hundred years later and remains the country’s main religion today, skullcups were also tantric ritual implements used to hold bread and wine, symbolizing flesh and blood, when making offerings to wrathful deities. Presently, such skullcups remain in use only in Tibet and Nepal.

18th-19th century Tibetan skullcup, held at the Walters Art Museum.

This ritual vessel, made from the upper section of a human skull, belongs to the tantric Buddhist traditions of Tibet and neighboring regions. The skull serves as a reminder of death and impermanence, and it symbolizes wisdom and emptiness—the true nature of reality, according to Buddhist teachings.

In practice, such skull cups are used to prepare and contain a sacred liquid (usually tea mixed with dissolved herbs), which is consecrated as the nectar of enlightened bliss, then consumed or used to sanctify ritual offerings. The imagery on the metal cover and stand of this skull cup relates to the mental imagery visualized by the practitioner as he or she prepares the nectar: The skull sits above a triangular fire, the corners of which are marked by three human heads. In the visualization, their colors correspond to three mental states that immediately precede the light of pure mental clarity: white (luminosity), red (radiance), and blue-black (near-attainment). Within the skull, the practitioner visualizes five bodily substances and five types of meat, which are purified through the heat of the fire, then transformed into nectar when combined with the substance of a tantric staff, which melts into the skull cup from above. Each element of the visualization appears first as a sacred syllable before morphing into its respective object; the letters of some of these syllables appear on the lid, interspersed with deities.

Finally, in this era it was a status symbol among rulers to sponsor various esoteric gurus to visit, preach, and, if liked and admired, found monastic orders in sacred places, gifted villages, or populous cities.

All this to say that while it is not known, there’s a distinct possibility that Kbal refers to the hermits who carved Kbal Spean being Kapalika monks, clearly Hindu but perhaps with a few Buddhist monks with similar tantric practices thrown in.

late 19th/early 20th century Bhutanese thangka depicting Milarepa, the 11th century siddha. Note the skullcups throughout.

How is it holy water?

This river is considered the Ganges of Khmer mythology and religion. The Kulen hills it springs from were considered the mountain home of the gods. Hindus believe that by flowing over the religious scultpures, the water is blessed before it divides into the Siem Reap river and Puok river, which feed into Tonlé Sap, which literally means ‘fresh river’ or ‘great lake,’ before flowing south, watering Angkor and its moats along the way. The Linga-Yonis symbolically "fertilize" the plains of Angkor, with holy water flowing to its soil, giving the power to grow rice.

As you can see, there’s been quite a bit of theft and erosion. Carvings recorded by Jean Boulbet in 1968 are broken and missing. The river flows over the thousand lingas.

Jean Boulbet’s photo of the same section in 1968.

closeup spring 1968

closeup November 2022

The upper reclining Vishnu is gone entirely; the lower one is missing its upper half.

what should i look for?

Depending on water level, you may or may not see certain carvings well.

The first sculpture I photographed was Lord Brahma on a lotus flower. In Hinduism, Brahma is the god of creation, knowledge and the Vedas. Lotus flowers symbolize purity, as they rise from the mud to bloom beautifully. ‘Brahma lotus-born’ is a standard Hindu depiction of the god, symbolizing the creation of the universe with a pure and spiritual nature.

In the foreground, a linga-yoni.

Beyond, Lord Vishnu in a reclining repose lying on the serpent god Ananta, with Goddess Lakshmi at his feet and Lord Brahma on a lotus petal. In the fully dry season, this is totally dry. This is a depiction of the Khmer creation myth: the lotus flower emerging from Vishnu’s back (particular to Khmer art; in other traditions the lotus grows from his navel) bears god Brahma, the divine craftsman who creates the fittings of the world. Vishnu is sleeping on the serpent Ananta on the ocean. This creation myth emphasizes the necessity of undisturbed rule to transform the churning sea into an orderly world.

A matching reclining Vishnu, with Shiva and Uma mounted on Nandi alongside. Nandi means ‘joy’ or ‘satisfaction’, and symbolizes virility. Nandi grew up as an ardent devotee of Shiva and he performed severe penance to become his gate-keeper, as well as his mount, on the banks of the river Narmada.

Looking upstream, lingas in profile and from a bird’s eye view. In the foreground is a smaller mandala carving. to quote Britannica:

In Hindu and Buddhist Tantrism, a symbolic diagram used in the performance of sacred rites and as an instrument of meditation. The mandala is basically a representation of the universe, a consecrated area that serves as a receptacle for the gods and as a collection point of universal forces. Man (the microcosm), by mentally “entering” the mandala and “proceeding” toward its centre, is by analogy guided through the cosmic processes of disintegration and reintegration.

Obviously it’s been stolen, but it was a rare carving of Shiva as an ascetic.

Jean Boulbet’s picture of same from 1968. According to Boulbet, the last hermit to live here, Grû Tep Mei, who only left in 1962, told him that “the central character standing under a crocodile represents the Buddha, a perfect sage, who, imperturbable and upright, triumphs over seductions, pitfalls and insidious questions. For other Khmers of the region, it could be Krai Thun, a hero-prince who conquered his princess by fighting her off with a kidnapping crocodile.”

another from Jean Boulbet, 1968.

Yoni surrounded by lingas. The layout of the yoni is the same as the main temple building in Angkor.

Aerial view of Angkor Wat.

Another of Shiva and Uma on Nandi.

Just before the falls is a frog.

The inscriptions primarily document the construction and dedication of the site to the Hindu god Shiva, and attribute different sculptures to either of the two kings.

The inscriptions are in small caves along the river.

where can i learn more?

The seminal texts on the site are:

• Jacques Claude. Les inscriptions du Phnom Kbal Spãn (K 1011, 1012, 1015 et 1016). In: Bulletin de l’Ecole française d’Extrême-Orient. Tome 86, 1999. pp. 357-374. CLICK HERE

• Boulbet Jean, Dagens Bruno. Les sites archéologiques de la région du Bhnaṃ Gūlen (Phnom Kulen). In: Arts asiatiques, tome 27, 1973. pp. 3-130. CLICK HERE

Looking through Jean Boulbet’s photographs taken in March 1968, I noticed many carvings that I did not spot on my visit. At first I didn’t know why; maybe my guide was in a rush and didn’t show me some things, or there was too much water flowing in November for me to see or photograph them, or they’ve been eroded, stolen, vandalized, etc. Upon reading Boulbet’s 1973 paper, I learned that these are almost always underwater and barely visible, and that he actually roughly dammed the river and drained the basins in order to photograph them in March 1968.

Boulbet calls this the “upstream wall of basin #4”.

Another of basin #4.

He calls this a “view of Basin #5 from the northwest.”

And the ‘downstream wall’ of Basin #5.

The ‘upstream wall’ of Basin #5.

Boulbet calls this “linga carved on the ledge separating the two downstream reaches of the carved river.”

Is it possible I only saw one branch of the river and not both?

Another “Naissance de Brahmā” sculpted on the bed of the “intermediate reach”.

I think I did see this, but water was flowing over it.

One interesting thing about Kbal Spean is that unlike other sites near Angkor, which were discovered and studied by the French as early as the mid-19th century, no academicians were aware of the place until February 1968, when Jean Boulbet, an ethnologist who and been living among and studying the local Khmer Loeus for about 5 years, was introduced to it by a local shaman. The story is charming. To quote Danny Blao, Boulbet’s grandson (translation mine):

One day, after reconciling a broken couple, he treated the wife, who was sick with dengue fever, with quinine. He could take glory from it. However, he did nothing and went to see the village sorcerer, whom he advised to use his medicine. There she was, cured. Jean Boulbet was right. He allowed the sorcerer to retain all his authority. To thank him, the sorcerer decided to reveal a secret to him. "I know that you love our people and I want to give you a gift. Go to the mountain of O'Kbal Spean. It is a place that is cursed, no one dares to venture there. But the gods will be merciful to you. I know that you are interested in old stones....Find the hermitage under the Frog waterfall".

Jean Boulbet complies. He goes to the place. It is the river that waters Angkor. He discovers it entirely sculpted over nearly 200 meters. Waterfalls, basins, natural bridges: everything has been decorated, one could say illuminated, by the Angkorian hermits.

CLICK HERE to read the blog Blao dedicated to Boulbet’s work.

Jean Boulbet in the ‘70s. Of all the available photos, this one made me laugh- in SEA we all know this French guy.

Bakong Village Market, Siem Reap | Cambodia

My tuktuk driver wanted to pop into the market near Bakong village one day. Not much to say about it, just snapped a few photos.

Ranking All 20 Chiang Mai Michelin Bib Gourmand 2025 Restaurants | Thailand

FROM BEST TO WORST, IMHO:

1. Rasik’s local kitchen

There are only 4 tables in the restaurant, so it’s written everywhere that reservations are necessary. Unfortunately, my messages on instagram and facebook went unanswered for over 48 hours, so I decided to just show up as early as I could manage one Monday evening, arriving around 6pm. The chef himself greeted me at the door; I asked if they had any slots available at any time for the entire night, and he said 7:30pm would work if I could eat at the bar.

I agreed and it was totally lovely, perhaps even preferable! They do make the drinks there, but it’s not so much a bar as the place where they print the bills and prep various ingredients, which happens to have 4 barstools under the counter. I was the only person seated there; they turned on a tiny little fan and lamp for me, and the only people I spoke to were the chef and the manager (slash wife/girlfriend?). I hate people, so it was perfect for me!

The chef did say he toned down the spiciness of the dishes because I’m a white foreigner. Normally I get super angry about this because not only does it deny me the authentic taste (and you only live once, I very likely will only get one chance to try the real thing), but the flavors typically end up out of balance, ruining the recipe. This is, I think, the first situation I’ve encountered where the food was still really delicious, despite not being as spicy as it should be. It was complex, savory cooking.

The whole practice of taking out spices for white people no matter what they say about their own preferences still annoys me endlessly- the manager asked me if I liked spicy food, warned me the beef soup was very spicy, and I specifically said, “yes, I like spicy food, I like really spicy food, I can handle all levels of spice, please do not change anything in the recipe for me.” Yet, either they communicated to the chef, or the chef assumed, to tone the dishes down to the point where I’d describe them as ‘warm’ and ‘peppery’ but not at all spicy. And when the manager asked me if the food was too spicy, and I replied that it wasn’t spicy at all, she looked surprised. I don’t know what kind of Europeans (wink wink, that’s what everyone in Asia seems to call all white people, whether you’re from the Americas, Africa, Russia, or beyond, mixed or not, country, or city, they really can’t tell the difference), they usually deal with. I do find it very presumptuous of so many random restaurant workers from nowheresville who have been nowhere to imagine they have a more expansive or sophisticated palate than the quote unquote Europeans they serve, the ones who fly around the world, do their research on Michelin, James beard, Black Pearl, etc., and finally end up in their restaurant. It’s simply illogical, but racism always is.

Anyway, this was the best meal I had in Chiang Mai regardless, and I’d absolutely go back. If you have a fancy date, I think getting. table here is your best choice in the city.

Tender beef shank in spicy Thai herb broth. You can choose between tongue and shank, and though the tongue is recommended, I went with shank. It’s the most perfect Northern Thai tomato base I’ve ever tasted.

“Wok fried seasonal organic green leaf”. It was very tasty, but just cabbage. Based on the description I was expecting something else or more.

Selected fish in aromatic white curry with smoked chili on top. I don’t know what kind of fish this was, but it was firm,  white, flaky, tasty. This is the dish that won Rasik’s the top spot. If you’re the kind of person who grew up loving chowder, you will get it. It featured makwan pepper, the local seasonal wild peppercorn that’s similar to Sichuan pepper but with a citrus aroma. It was fantastic, the best dish I had in Chiang Mai.

Rice and sugarcane ‘spirits’. I could take it or leave it. I recommended that instead of just serving them in shots, which they are frankly not complex enough to warrant, they also make Thai G&Ts with these.

2. Ekachan, the wisdom of ethnic thai cuisine

I called Ekachan on a Sunday evening at 5:00 to make a reservation for the same night, and was told they could fit me in at 8:00, and gave my name. So, I was disappointed when I arrived, and they had a pile of reservations, but had lost mine. Fortunately, I only waited around 20 minutes to be seated, but I did get the impression they just don’t make reservations for parties of one, and that does not impress.

They also seem to have slowly taken over the entire Chiang Mai Ancient House, a cultural landmark meant to showcase cultural events, which no longer does. This was very much a commercial renovation, not a historically sensitive preservation of any kind, and that’s a shame.

The food, however, was excellent, and the service was fast, I’ll definitely go back when I’m back in Chiang Mai.

The Chiang Mai Ancient House, also known as the Lanna Ancient House. Built in 1867, it’s the oldest of the Charoenprathet Road Heritage Houses. The house used to belong to Grandmother Moung Kham Suaysuwan, a Burmese logging contractor. Today it is owned by a subsidiary of Thai Charoen Corporation Group (TTC), whose profitable arm is Thaibev, the producer of Chang Beer.

The tree overlooking the spirit house is an Indian Walnut said to be over 100 years old.

Apparently Chiang Mai Beer was founded by two CM bros who attended undergrad together in the US, and got inspired at the 2010 Great American Beer Festival. It’s no longer home-brewed, but made by Beer Savan in Laos (the same company that produces Beer Laos) and distributed throughout Thailand. This orange IPA is what I would call a ‘dessert beer’- a relatively cheap imitation of the Lambic I was raised with. It’s superior to the many overpoweringly sweet, cheap, one-note, mass-produced beers you can buy in 7-11s throughout SE Asia, but at this point ‘craft beer’ is an exaggeration.

This was better, and apparently closer to one of their original recipes. Reading their origin story made me chuckle a bit, remembering how trendy hefeweizen was in the US in the late 2000s, with the original Hoegaarden inexplicably becoming popular around 2006, more Bavarian imports soon following, and craft breweries giving it a go. It makes total sense that they’d be bowled over by the quality and variety available circa 2010.

Rawaeng beef turmeric curry. Rawaeng is a traditional food that everyone cooks- something like a Sunday roast- but of course some versions are exponentially better than others. The beef was tender and tasty, and the curry was fantastic- it was my favorite dish in Chiang Mai so far. I could list out all the spices and herbs typically used in the recipe- thai basil, lemongrass, dill, galangal, fresh red chili, etc.- but the magic obviously happens in the blend, the balance, and the reduction. I’d eat here again for this dish alone.

Fried rice with shrimp paste and sweet shrimp. The pomelo, chili, onions and cilantro are meant to be mixed into the rice. This was one of the best fried rices I’ve ever had, though I didn’t taste any hint of shrimp paste!? I spent perhaps 15 minutes poring over photos from other diners on google maps reviews, trying to discern if I was not given the same dish as local diners. I couldn’t say, but this was very good.

A closeup of a ‘sweet shrimp.’ It’s half-dried, and dressed in something that does indeed make it literally sugary sweet. You eat the whole thing shell on, head tail etc.

3. Huen Muan Jai

At lunchtime on Saturday, this place was crowded with locals, always a good sign. The menu focuses on Lanna specialties, so many exotic options to my eyes. I liked everything I ate, and they definitely did not change the spice level or flavours for me, which I really appreciate. The owner is a celebrity chef in Thailand who’s appeared on Iron Chef and various other franchises.

The flavours were complex and well-balanced, preparation was to the letter, and service was fast and friendly (though there was little to no English). Also, I must mention, this place is cheap relative to the quality- everything I ordered, plus snack bags of pork rinds and rice cakes, a bowl of sticky rice, and a large bottle of Chang beer, came to just 611 baht ($18 usd). It’s healthy, home-cooked fresh food at half the price I’d be comfortable paying for it.

I think if tourists wish to try Lanna food at a really high level, this is the spot.

Tam Khan-Noon, spicy pounded raw jackfruit mash with pork rinds. Just an incredibly satisfying snack, with such nuanced flavour. I’d come back just to have this and a beer with a friend. I liked it enough to have it packed up in a plastic bag, and I bought extra pork rinds (they sell bags of them at the restaurant) to eat for lunch the next day.

Lab Pla Khua, spicy minced fresh water fish salad. A Michelin suggestion, I thought I’d take my chances. It was excellent. Fresh, spicy, the perfect dryness level and chew, and of course I wrapped it in cabbage with some mint. I had so many types of laab in Laos and disliked almost all of them, it was so wonderful to try one I truly liked.

Tom Yum Gob, spicy soup with frog. The flavour of this was unbelievable- spicy and complex, I almost finished the soup. I’d never been served frog with the skin on before, which I found a bit disconcerting, but I just went for it, and it was tasteless, not a problem. The body and possibly the heads of I think two smaller frogs were used in this soup, rather than only the legs of larger frogs, which is the French custom I’m more used to. One of the cooks served this to me— I wonder if all the servers were busy, or if they just like to get the measure of foreigners who order the weird stuff. 😂

Nam Prik Kha - Hed Nang Fah Neung, spicy galangal dip with steamed mushrooms. I love mushrooms, and they are a cornerstone of Lanna cuisine, so I asked the server what their best mushroom dish was, and this is what he recommended. I was surprised, expecting to order the ball mushrooms with fried pork. I typically don’t love oyster mushrooms— whenever I’ve bought them at the market, they’ve had a strongly unappealing scent to me, making them perhaps the only sort of mushroom I’m not inclined to order— but the server was right, these were completely clean and fresh, and the galangal was incredibly refreshing— spicy, certainly, but deeper than that, really lovely.

4. Huan Soontaree

Huan Soontaree was my first experience of Lanna cuisine, and it set a high standard. Tucked on the riverside, in a residential neighborhood about a 15 minute drive north of the Old City, the place doesn’t, in my opinion, get nearly as much business as it deserves because it’s rather out of the way and has been open way too long to hold any novelty for locals. The quality, however, remains really high.

First, the ambience is the best in Chiang Mai! The main building is an XL version of a traditional Lanna wooden house, decked with lanterns and vintage photos. All seating is open air; private parties can sit in the upstairs gallery, and you can sit farther away from the building next to the river, but most patrons prefer to be closer to the band. Iconic Thai folk singer of the 70s and 80s, Soontaree Vechanont, is the owner and namesake here, and she does a 40 or 50 minute set in full traditional Lanna costume, with full band, most nights of the week, starting around 7pm. I believe her nights off are Sunday and Wednesday, so if you really want to hear her, go on a different day. Her daughter, Lana Commins, herself a millenial pop sensation, also performs. Even if the food was mediocre or bad, coming here to hear them sing would be worth it. They are wonderful, their band is wonderful, and their setlist is wonderful, such a classy, old-fashioned contrast to the irritating EDM and top 10 soundtracks or vaguely classical piano muzak in so many restaurants.

But the food is good. It’s just like the music, actually: classic, local, and consistently good quality.

The walls are lined with old photos and posters of Soontaree.

The Northern Thai Mixed Platter, one of their 4 signature dishes.

The reddish dip is Nam Prik Ong, given the cutesy translation ‘Chiang Mai Bolognese’ on Soontaree’s menu. It’s certainly elementally similar, with ground pork, tomatoes, garlic, red onion, and cilantro as the base. It’s Northern Thai-ness comes from the multiple types of chilis, and shrimp, tamarind, and fermented soybean pastes. It is salty, sweet, and a bit hot.

The greenish dip is Nam Prik Num, charcoal grilled local green chilis mashed with shallots, garlic, green onion, salt, and the lightest touch of shrimp paste, for a smokey veggie taste.

FYI, Nam Prik means dip or relish, usually prepared with chilis and shrimp paste. These are on almost every menu in Chiang Mai, and one thing I love about Soontaree’s is that the recipes haven’t changed since the place opened in the 90s, and they were local standards back then. They’re not trying to do any kind of modern, fusion, royal, backwoods exotic, etc., there’s zero concept here, the menu is more or less what a rich Northern Thai family would be proud to serve if they were throwing a big fancy birthday party in 1979, and I love that.

In the center are pork rinds or Kep Moo, the most common thing to dip in the various Northern Thai dips, along with vegetables- here we have pumpkin, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower and tiny little onions.

Next to the veggies is Sai Oua, an iconic Northern Thai style sausage composed of ground pork mixed with kaffir lime leaves and a curry paste featuring dried chilis, cumin, galangal, turmeric, lemongrass, coriander, shrimp paste, fish sauce, shallots and garlic, smoked over coconut wood. In my experience, the sai oua in Chiang Mai generally has less kick than in Laos, especially around Luang Prabang, but it’s still very tasty. Also, I wasn’t specifically seeking out and testing every granny-made sai oua in town; this was pretty good, and I’m sure there are many that are mindblowing for sausage enthusiasts.

Anyway, next is deep fried Moo Yaw, or Vietnamese white pork roll. It’s pork pounded into a paste, then mixed with potato starch and fish sauce, and tiny bits of pig ear and pork fat for texture, then wrapped in a banana leaf and boiled. For me this is filler food, I don’t especially like it and theirs didn’t change my mind.

Finally there is Jin Som, which is made by mixing minced pork with a bit of pork rinds, garlic, salt and steamed sticky rice, wrapping twice in banana leaves to make an airless environment, and leaving to ferment for 3 days. I’ve tried it several times in Thailand and Laos, it is not for me and I barely ever touch it. As with the moo yaw, theirs didn’t convert me, and not being a fan to begin with, I can’t really say if it was good or not.

Hed Thob puff ball mountain mushrooms cooked with acacia in a creamy curry. I love mushrooms, different kinds of mushrooms figure heavily in Lanna cuisine, and these mushrooms specifically are a prized ingredient throughout Northern Thailand, because they are rare, only grow for around two months during the rainy season (usually May and June), don’t bloom every year, and are hard to find. They are so desirable and sell for such high prices that villagers burn forests just to collect them, contributing substantially to the awful air pollution in Chiang Mai.

I did not know that when I ordered this dish. I also didn’t know that while hed thob are considered too difficult to cultivate, they are now brined and sold year-round. Given that I ate this meal in November, I couldn’t have possibly had the fresh seasonal delicacy, famous for its distinct earthy flavor; I likely had the second-best preserved type. I have serious asthma, smoke of any kind is my enemy, and had I known, I would not have ordered these. Yes they were good, I liked the juiciness and novelty of the popping. That said, the flavor is not incredibly special, and even if it was, absolutely nothing is tasty enough to warrant setting forest fires. So, I find myself in the position of liking this dish quite a lot, but also not being able to recommend it. I’m putting it down to living and learning, you’ve been warned.

5. Tune in Garden

I debated whether or not to place Tune In Garden so high on this list because, to be frank, the food here is besides the point. It’s an unchanging set menu for 600 baht; they only open for lunch; they don’t speak English, so you have to have someone Thai call and book for you, and they require at least 24 hours’ notice. The food, supposedly made from hundred-year-old family recipes, was uniformly bland and sweet. It’s not local cuisine; the family retired to Chiang Mai 25 years ago, but are originally from Bangkok, and the cooking is in the Central or Siam style. This place is very clearly not on the list for its food, but for its atmosphere.

Getting there requires an hourlong drive through beautiful countryside, dotted with picturesque farms and tiny villages, up and up and up into the mountains. It was so charming I had my driver stop a few times so I could take photos. They’re happy to do so, considering there’s no transportation option other than paying them $35-$40 for 8 hours’ work, unless you feel confident on a motorbike in unfamiliar steep mountains. No Grab driver will make the one-time trip, and if one did in some unfathomably improbable personal circumstance, you would never find another to take you back. If this is your situation, plan in advance how to make use of the remaining 5 or 5.5 hours you have access to a private driver after you’ve eaten- I combined it with visits to a couple mountain temples that also require a private driver, and a trip to the mall.

The restaurant itself is actually a private home, once the home of famous Thai author Rong Wongsavun, who published over 100 books, and hundreds more newspaper columns, but is best known to Americans, if he’s known to us at all, as The Man from Bangkok who documented life in hippy-era San Francisco through foreign eyes, most memorably in 1969’s Lost in the Smell of Marijuana. Today, his widow, her servant, their many adorable jack russell terriers, and occasionally his son and daughter-in-law live here, and seem to run the restaurant less as a true business venture than for a bit of cash here and there.

The house overlooks a small waterfall and river and is not at all wheelchair friendly- there are probably a hundred steps down to the house from the road, and they’re not particularly easy even for those with no mobility issues. The forest and waterfall are beautiful; they look and sound amazing and make the trip out here completely worth it, perfect to celebrate a special day in a calm way. I also fell in love with Charlie, the feisty, flea ridden patriarch of the jack russels, though there are also a couple cats for you cat people. I spent at least 20 minutes wandering the garden and taking photos once I was done eating. I’m recommending this place for the experience, not the food. But Michelin is supposed to be about the food . . . so, let’s talk about it I guess.

Longan juice

“Three Musketeers” on tangerines, sweet and refreshing. Apparently “3 Musketeers” is a sort of vintage Thai recipe that was trendy in the 60s, it’s supposed to be mixed minced shrimp, pork and chicken combined with ground peanuts, stir-fried in a sweet sauce, over a sour fruit. This was nice and refreshing.

The atmosphere is 10X better than the food!

The dishes were served at the same time.

Pork chops and cabbage in a sweet tomato base.

Fish maw soup, not terribly different from the pork chops.

River catfish, fried too hard, and tasted like the oil was a bit old.

Nam Prik Lon Poo, or crab paste chili dip made with coconut milk. This was such a disappointment. I love crab, I love chilis, I love coconut milk, I love love love crudités, but really didn’t like this. It just tasted off, sour, unbalanced, nah.

It’s pretty hard to get fresh watermelon with brown sugar and dried shrimp wrong . . . but this needed a bit of salt . . .

Sticky rice, corn, and sweetened coconut milk.

6. Saiyut & Dr. Sai Kitchen

Like Tune In Garden, Saiyut & Dr. Sai ranks so high for aesthetic reasons, not for the food. The restaurant specializes in decorative, beautifully presented food that tastes good enough. All the veggies and fruit come carved; many of the dumplings and desserts come molded into birds or flowers; every money bag or egg net really is the smallest, cutest, most darling version of the thing; and everything is plated nicely on classic feeling celadon or blue and white dishes. It’s undeniably the prettiest food in town, and lots of tourists and students seem to go there just to post on social media. It’s a novelty I think most people would enjoy, and it has some redeeming qualities- for example, they sell a large variety of takeaway box lunches for 150 baht each. That’s a great deal for the quality of the food, if you live nearby. The appetizers and desserts are perfect for entertaining, or bringing as a hostess gift.

It would have perfect girls’ brunch or date vibes, except that no alcohol is served. Many Chiang Mai restaurants have this policy because they can minimize turnover time while maximizing profit margin on cheap iced sugar water drinks, and frankly, I find it tiresome. This place makes a big show of being very booked and busy and recommending reservations, but both times I showed up for lunch without a reservation, including on a Saturday, they were able to seat me immediately in a half-empty second dining room. Similarly, they don’t list prices for the meal sets, which is bad enough, but then substitute out various dishes with less popular ones, and charge each as line items until they hit 1000 baht, sort of sneakily overcharging tourists for inferior food. It’s a bit distasteful, pun intended. In Thailand, cachet is given to exclusivity, and therefore there’s a lot of feigned exclusivity, particularly in places like Chaing Mai where there’s a lot of competition for Chinese and European tourists. This place has those vibes.

I mentioned before that I visited twice, simply because it was close to my hotel. The first time the waitress asked if I liked spicy food, and said my usual, YES, I very much like spicy food, please don't water anything down for me. That first trip, the food was not all great, but spice level was not an issue. The second time I did not have that conversation with a waitress, and was served the plainest, sweetest food I've had in a long, long time.

At first I assumed I'd been racially profiled as a white lady, which I’ve already mentioned has unfortunately occurred umpteen times throughout Southeast Asia. However, all the Northern Thais I queried about it told me that Thais from the Central regions generally prefer much sweeter food than those in the North or South, and this menu is marketed as Royal Siam style food. That said, I’ve lived and travelled Thailand on and off for a few years at this point, including living in Bangkok for extended periods, and I’ve tried genuine, sophisticated Royal Siam cuisine. The key is subtlety and sophistication, not sugar. Saiyut’s recipes might reflect a Northerner’s impression of Siamese cuisine rather more than they represent the real thing.

Lemon juice. It was OK, oversweet. I also tried the Butterfly Pea Ice with Lime and Soda; it was honestly not very different, also artificial and oversweet.

The appetizer served with every meal, green papaya with spicy sweet shrimp sauce. It’s refreshing and nice.

The extremely beautiful and photogenic appetizer platter. Starting at the top left corner and going clockwise: deep fried pork wrapped with egg noodles; 3 musketeers on green papaya; dried shrimp with herbs wrapped in wild betel leaf; fried shrimp and pork with coconut wrapped in an egg net; fried shrimp with coconut, peanut, bean curd, and bean sprout in pastry shell; fried shrimp and pork with corn in pastry shell; bird-shaped 3 musketeer dumpling; flower-shaped pork dumpling; steam puff with fish filling; deep-fried prawns and pork wrapped in spring roll (money bag). They were all tasty, but in rather the same way- sweet with some crunch. Some of the fillings were repeated; some more than once. They were served with 3 different dipping sauces, but even the one with chilis was extremely sweet.

Flower-shaped pork dumpling

Bird-shaped 3 musketeer dumpling

Spicy pomelo salad, with both fresh and dried prawns, minced pork, and eggs poached hard. Absolutely delicious.

Deep fried curried mousse, made with mixed prawns, pork and fish. It’s pretty difficult to mess up anything deep fried, and these were not bad, but the flavors were just OK, and the texture was spongy and bouncy- I understand why other people might like that, but I didn’t.

Tom Yum spicy clear soup with prawns. This was quite spicy with a great balance of flavors, possibly the best tom yum I’ve had. It was the best thing at this restaurant.

Deep fried sand whiting fish with crispy turmeric. This type of fish was suggested to me by the waitress, in lieu of the one shown in the set meal photos. I now wonder if it was just to get rid of it, because I’d never tried this type of fish before, and it was way too scrawny, dry, and tasteless for me.

Stir-fried crabmeat with yellow curry powder. This was such a disappointment- canned crab meat with literally no seasoning, atop scrambled eggs and baby corn with yellow curry powder, sans spice. It was shockingly bland, literally no warmth, even with the chilis! I don't think I've ever tasted a curry with absolutely zero spice before.

Stir-fried chili paste, betel leaves, and crab meat curry. This is one of my favorite Southern Thai dishes- at other restaurants. The flavors here were way off, bitter even, and I found myself just picking out the crab meat.

Coconut sticky rice with banana and black beans, steamed in a banana leaf. This was sweet and tasty. Apparently this restaurant is well known for its traditional Thai desserts.

Salacca (snake fruit) in syrup. I just wanted to have a local fruit, but I’m not convinced this was not canned.

They packed up my leftovers to go, which was nice; they also sell takeaway lunch boxes that I’m sure are popular for people living in the neighborhood.

7. Khao Soi Maesai

A classic shophouse restaurant with cheap and chill vibes, the chicken khao soi and thai ice coffee with milk were both really good. This is nothing sophisticated, khao soi is easy comfort food, as close to fast food as Thailand had before actual fast food franchises arrived. If you’re not familiar with khao soi, Northern Thai khao soi or Khao Soi Islam is a noodle soup dish made with hand cut boiled egg noodles, pickled mustard greens, shallots, lime, ground chillies fried in oil, and chicken or beef in a curry-like sauce containing coconut milk, topped with deep-fried egg noodles. Its predecessor was likely a noodle dish that made its way to the region from Myanmar, via the Chin Haw, a group of Thai Chinese Muslims from Yunnan, who traded along caravan routes through Shan State in Myanmar, Laos, and Thailand from the 18th to early 20th centuries. Back to to Maesai specifically, I’d say they were my second favorite khao soi place in Chiang Mai, my favorite will be in the Michelin gossip video. 80 baht (around $2.37 usd) for a drink and a bowl of noodles with a chicken drumstick is also just a good deal. If I lived here, I’d be a regular.

From the left, chicken Khao Soi; Kanom Jeen; Thai milk tea; sprouts, cabbage, lime juice and onions to mix in; relish to eat after.

Khao Soi with chicken. This was excellent! I get very weird about chicken skin- I don’t want anything rubbery, stretchy, or textured, I don’t want to see or feel the fat membrane just underneath . . . I had no problem with this. The chicken was incredibly tender and flavorful, clearly slow-cooked. The curry had a great flavour; I would have preferred a bit spicier, but a couple chili-based sauces are among the condiments. The egg noodles had the perfect chew and the deep fried noodles the perfect crunch.

Kanom Jean Nam Ngiao. Supposedly this dish is a northern signature, and how well a restaurant does it indicates the quality of the restaurant. Tomato, cilantro and chili are not always my favorite flavors, but they seem to be a classic combo for soup bases here. Likewise, I’m not a pork person, so this kind of thing can be hard for me to enjoy, but I thought I’d try. The pork blood cubes were very smooth, the minced pork not particularly interesting but inoffensive, and the noodles tasted cheap, in my opinion. Definitely edible— if I was in a podunk, and this is literally all they served, I’d eat it— but I wouldn’t go back for it. I think that’s the dish, not the restaurant, but I’ll give it at least one more shot elsewhere to be sure.

8. Busarin

The little sister of Magnolia next door, Busarin is a lunch-only place focusing on Thai comfort foods. I ate what the waitress recommended.

Tai Pla Kati, Southern style fish curry with bamboo shoots and bitter beans. The waitress warned me it would smell bad and the beans would taste bad, but it’s a popular food. I must admit, my first thought upon smelling it was ‘catfood curry’!!! It was not good at all to me, but maybe it’s great for someone with a different palate? YOLO.

I thought ‘fermented rice noodles,’ were something else, something I haven’t had. I have definitely eaten these a million times and they’re nothing special. However, I always make the effort to finish veggies when served, I think eating out exclusively, I don’t get enough veg.

Beef heng lay with roti and cucumber salad.

I told the waitresss I wanted to try the hinglay but didn’t really love pork, and she claimed she also preferred the beef version. It was much, much better for me, though I still had to trim off the excess fat. The curry was good but there wasn’t enough of it for me. I know I like the warm, sweet hinglay concept.

These are the most perfect roti I’ve ever had. Literally. The spicy cucumber salad was also good, simple and refreshing.

I was the only person there for lunch on a Monday.

9. Magnolia Café

Arriving at 8:00 PM on a Sunday, I was the only diner here for my entire meal; I didn’t even see anyone else coming or going. My impression is that this place was trendy at one time, but has lost its lustre. I’d describe it as (relatively, by local standards) expensive and mid. The meal below, plus a big glass bottle of Singha and a small bowl of white rice, was just under 900 baht, or $26.65 usd. The concept is a light, sophisticated twist on Northern Thai cuisine, but the menu seemed confused- a little North home cooking, a little South flashy cooking, some random seafood and fruit . . . The amuse-bouche was cute and the free pandan custard dessert was delicious, but they don’t make up for the 1000 baht credit card minimum and only selling wine by the bottle, in my opinion.

As per usual, I tried to order the Michelin suggestions and something that appealed to me personally. I could recognize, objectively, that much of it was rather good, but there was not a single dish I liked enough to return for.

pineapple and sugar plum amuse-bouche

Watermelon with dessicated salmon. Apparently their most popular dish, it was refreshing of course, but a whole lot of nothing as far as flavour.

Hor Mhok steamed curried barracuda terrine. It was the best dish I tried, hands down. I have tried hor mhok multiple times throughout Thailand and Laos, and have always been repulsed by the flavor, yet eager to find one I liked, given its classic status. Maybe the curry powder made all the difference; this is the first version I’ve ever enjoyed.

Fried roed-squid with peanut sauce. I could recognize the squid was done incredibly well, elegantly even, but I’ve only actually enjoyed squid once in my life, literally, at Nhà Hàng Xin Chào in Phú Quốc, Vietnam. It was cooked exactly the same at either place— but Xin Chào’s actually did have the eggs still attached (Magnolia’s was supposed to, but didn’t); the center was cooked through rather than jellied, which I personally prefer; and finally, I don’t recall it having any ammoniac scent, which Magnolia’s really suffered from. I could see other people really enjoying this, it was just a swing and a miss for me personally.

Hor Nung slow-cooked chicken with Northern herbs. In terms of flavour, this was my favourite; it seems to be a more traditional Northern home-style recipe. There was a sort of quality control issue with the chicken though; I repeatedly had to spit out bits of gristle into my napkin. I recognize this sort of thing is common throughout Asia, but in a relatively more upscale place I wasn’t expecting it.

Pandan custard. Truly, unexpectedly delicious; if they sold it by the cup I’d certainly pay for a couple and take them home.

10. krua lawng khao

Far flung enough that I am only willing to go at lunchtime (to ensure I don’t get stuck in the country in the dark) this restaurant is owned and run by a famous Thai chef. I have no idea who he is, though I believe I met him and his wife and kids, because I cannot find any English language coverage of Iron Chef Thailand episodes and had zero luck googling his name.

The Iron Chef menu was a bit disappointing . . . it was three “fried and a side”s, but perhaps that was the assignment on the show?

I hoped to try the Michelin menu as well, but as per usual, the suggestions were the spicy pork salad and spicy fish soup. I understand these are pillars of Lanna cuisine and dishes the inspector clearly enjoys, but I was bored of trying the same 3 or 4 dishes at every single restaurant!!! For this reason, I feel like perhaps Krua Lawng Khao didn’t get a fair shake; it’s the only wildcard on my list. When I return to Chiang Mai, I’ll definitely stop in here again and order the Michelin menu and some other as-local-and-niche-as-possible meal to reevaluate, and perhaps update this ranking.

Deep fried stuffed chiang da with minced chicken/Iron Chef Thailand menu. Chiang da is a vegetable similar to spinach, but with a bright, fresh, green, taste, not at all metallic, native to Northern Thailand, also known as Phak Chiang Da, Phak Muan Kai, and Phak Seng. You are supposed to eat this if you have certain symptoms of inflammation, including constipation and hemorrhoids, joint and bone pain, allergies, and asthma. This was light, crispy, and delicious, I truly enjoyed it.

Yet, I was concerned about the pinkness of this chicken. Is this an acceptable shade of pink?

Deep fried pumpkin with red curry paste and Northern style green mango spicy salad/Iron Chef Thailand menu. Deep fried pumpkin was of course delicious. Light, crispy, made with reasonably fresh oil. The green mango salad was definitely northern style, with a strong shrimp paste flavor reminiscent of what I had in Laos. It needed peanuts, it needed acid . . . objectively not bad, but I honestly didn’t like it much.

Northern style stir fried hinley pork curry with kanom worng/Iron Chef Thailand menu. Khanom wong are supposed to be sweet and salty donuts, made with banana, eggs, flour, coated with mellow spices, fried, and topped with a bit of molasses. These tasted like cardboard and I presume were made with some amount of butterfly pea flower, or perhaps a purple taro based dough, to achieve this color. I even tried dunking them in coffee and they were still hopeless.

A closeup of the pork hinlay. Also called Kaeng hang le, Gaeng hung lay, etc. This is considered an iconic dish in Northern Thailand generally, and Chiang Mai specifically; it came to the area via Myanmar, when Lanna was a vassal state of Burma in the 1500s- 1700s. It’s meant to be slow-cooked, spicy, sweet, and tangy. Featuring masala curry, tamarind paste, yellow turmeric, cumin, coriander seed, makween pepper and santol when seasonally appropriate, pickled vegetables, usually garlic, shredded ginger and peanuts, and, ideally, manifold additional well-balanced earthy spices for a complex yet balanced taste. Mildly spicy, sweet and sour, slightly oily, I . . . am willing to try it elsewhere, because this was not that. Flavors were OK, though it was oversweet. The quality of the pork was not what I needed- I don’t like the taste or texture of untrimmed fat on meat, at all, so something like this has to be seasoned and braised to melt-in-your-mouth perfection for me to eat more than a bite. This was not.

Lotus root in longan juice. There seems to be a girl with a semi-separate shop who only does the desserts. I love lotus root, I really like longans, this tasted fresh and not crazy sweet, I really enjoyed it.

The location is bad because it’s rather far from the city, but great because if there are no smoking old dudes, you can catch a breeze of fresh air off the field and take in a nice rural view.

11. Guay Jub Chang Moi Tat Mai

I visited for breakfast on a weekday, and this oldschool shophouse type restaurant was swarmed. Thankfully, the seating and service was quick, and the place was clean. They have a few different kinds of only-in-Asia bottled juices to choose from: bael fruit, lemongrass, chrysanthemum, and tamarind, but I just drank water. Next door is a bakery selling all kinds of traditional sweets.

The alley it’s in has a sort of vintage industrial atmosphere, with small metalworking shops, wholesale shipping offices and stuff like that.

Making spring rolls and satay.

The guay jub bowl station.

A Thai dish of Chinese origin, Guay Jub is rolled rice noodle soup that comes in two types: Nam Sai, a clear pork broth, and Nam Kon, a dark five-spice soup. As crazy as it sounds, I’m not exactly sure which one this restaurant serves- on one hand the broth was not half as dark as any photos of homemade Guay Jub Nam Kon I’ve seen. On the other, the flavors here were great, there was definitely a warm, earthy combination of mild spices, not just a pork broth. Perhaps this restaurant is notable because they’re doing their own version halfway between the two. Chinese 5 spice is typically cinnamon, star anise, cloves, fennel, and Sichuan peppercorn, and is intended to lend all five flavors (sweet, bitter, salty, savory, and sour) to any dish. I think it was used in this broth, perhaps just not as intensely as in other recipes. The rolled noodles were a novelty, but obviously don’t taste terribly different from any other rice noodle, and don’t have a chew or any other big textural difference either.

Apparently jub means ‘10’ in some Cantonese adjacent dialect, or perhaps just in a Thai accent (in Cantonese it sounds more like sub), and traditionally there were10 ingredients in the bowl. In my bowl there was crispy pork belly, local minced pork sausage, stewed pork rib tips, tofu, and the rolled noodles, so just 5 things, and that was more than enough! Perhaps there’s some option to order extras like innards, blood cubes, hardboiled eggs etc. to maybe get up to 10 ingredients, but I didn’t see it posted anywhere or listed on the menu. Maybe the name is a vestigial organ at this point? LOL, I’m really butchering the dad puns today. Anyway, I really really liked this, and I am not a pork person, so whatever they’re doing with just 5 ingredients is fine.

I heard the spring rolls here were good, so I thought I’d try them too. They really were good! There was not much to them, rolled noodles, scrambled eggs, cucumbers, and crispy egg noodles in a sweet sauce. I would have preferred more veg, but they were still very good.

I was the only non-local there, so the price-value ratio must be right.

It was extremely clean and organized compared to most shophouse restaurants.

12. Lung Khajohn Wat Ket

This place only serves two dishes: Khao Kriap Pak Maw and Sakoo Sai Moo. At 20 baht per box (40 baht for 1 of each) the price is unbeatable for a tasty snack- half the price (or less) of a Grab ride over from the old city, and 1/3 the price of a small carafe of iced drip coffee across the street. Unfortunately, the first time I tried to visit, they were closing shop over an hour early, so if you don’t want to make that cab and coffee journey twice or more, come early. They were kind enough to offer me a seat in the shop to eat, even though it’s really a takeaway place, which I really appreciated.

The ultimate KISS menu!

Khao Kriap Pak Maw is a tiny, folded crepe, with a rice flour and tapioca starch wrapper. There’s a bit of an art to making the delicate little envelopes, and tiktokers etc. come here just to film them doing it. One thing that’s perhaps a bit special/different about this place is that they give a little baggie of sweetened coconut cream to pour over the dumplings.

At many stalls, they use the same filling for both the Khao Kriap Pak Maw and Sakoo Sai Moo: a combination of minced pork, coriander roots, garlic, black pepper, peanuts, palm sugar, salt, oil, soy sauce, radish, and maybe some extra hints of spices. At this place, they did have different fillings- the Khao Kriap Pak Maw was sweeter, though I believe that was achieved by using extra sugar, not mixing the pork with minced prawns, as some shops do.

Sakoo Sai Moo: the skin is made from sticky, boiled down tapioca pearls. They are topped with dried garlic; you’re supposed to wrap them in lettuce to eat, and chase them with a bite of whole chili.

The Sakoo Sai Moo filling was very slightly meatier and spicier.

Across the street at Khna Coffee Brewers, this is what I got when I asked for an iced coffee- literally a hot Americano with a cup of ice. It smelled great and tasted great, and I was so thankful I had walked into a shop like this and not a place selling sugary drinks with a scoop of coffee powder mixed in, the MO at many cafés that don’t deserve the name in SE Asia. The atmosphere is also great. It’s quiet upstairs, and they’re used to people bringing their own food.

13. Tue Ka Ko Na Prince

I had to stop by this restaurant 3 or 4 times before finally finding them open- it appears they cater mainly to the schoolchildren across the street— and perhaps are doing well enough from the Michelin mention— that they only open in the morning, and if they feel like it. If you must go, I recommend trying in the morning, before lunch, on a weekday. Honestly, I liked a different Tue Ka Ko place in Chiang Mai more.

They were also selling a boatload of bagged snacks- I didn’t have the time/luggage space to try, but I’d love to know if there are any really good ones!

Tue Ka Ko, or taro fritters, are the darker round cakes. The fried triangles are tofu. The tofu were completely unremarkable. You can mix and match.

Tue ka ko in Chiang Mai are different than fried taro cakes you find in other Asian cuisines; the batter is just as much rice powder as taro, light and airy, like tiny little popovers. Different sellers sometimes put different stuff in the batter, like corn, black beans, kidney beans, etc. Another way to mix it up is with the sauce; the classic is a sweet peanut sauce, but some sellers offer sweet chili, tamarind, etc. At Na Prince, they put tiny little cubes of moo yaw in there— I am not a fan. The sauce is a classic sweet peanut/soy/garlic.

They don’t stick to the posted hours.

The sign of diappointment.

14. gO NENG (WICHAYANON)

It’s fried dough! With a side of either condensed milk or cheap pandan pudding. It was tasty and the shapes are cute, but this perfectly exemplifies the what the fuckery of Michelin in Asia. It’s just a doughnut place in the Ton Lam Yai market, nothing special about the food whatsoever. The hot coffee was quite good, made in the traditional Thai street stall manner, in a huge aluminum drum with sugar and condensed milk.

I think ‘instagrammable street food’ has been such an aggressive tourist must-do in Asia for so long that it’s found its way into places it should never be, like the Michelin guide. The restaurant features a wall of photos with what I assume are Thai celebrities or social media people enjoying the patongko. If they want to feature stuff like this, fine, but put it in a dedicated category, not mixed up with real restaurants with skilled cooks using fresh local ingredients. It’s just absurd that this would have the same distinction as Rasik’s or Huen Muan Jai. I also did not appreciate the owner smoking in the back and directly in front of the restaurant. Why do they think diners can’t smell them 2 feet away?

I ordered a crocodile and an elephant. They are 20 baht, but they are also quite large.

The elephant tried to stomp the croc into the condiments in an epic jungle battle.

The croc was victorious, and really enjoyed this elephant leg dipped in pandan custard.

15. Kanomjeen Sanpakoi

This is one of the only restaurants in Thongkham Market that stays open during in-between hours; when I was there around 3:00, most stalls were closed. According to Michelin, they’ve been in business since 1977, so I guess they have a sufficient customer base to work through the day. I understand why people like this- the curries are sufficiently complex, and the portions of blood pudding and meat are monumental, so generous I felt there weren’t enough noodles. I’ve eaten enough Asian street meat and noodle soups to know this is tops. I get it. I, personally, just don’t really like it. Perhaps if I found myself int he neighborhood again I’d give the green and red beef curries a spin. I always feel like when I don’t love a famous place it’s my fault, and I just need to keep trying dishes until I find something I do like. But, I can only eat so much in a meal, and there are only so many meals in a day, and with the overabundance of Michelin bib gourmand picks, I probably won’t find myself here again.

I couldn’t determine if there was anything else worth snagging at the market because most shops were closed at 3pm. There was a lady closeby selling fried wonton skewers that looked good, though I was too full to try.

If you don’t count specials, they sell 9 dishes here. They have a TV running all day with famous bloggers etc. eating here. Lots of google reviews mention Mark Wiens’ youtube channel.

As you can see, there are 9 dishes, but only 4 pots. Many of the dishes taste pretty much the same because they’re just a mix of 2 of the pots.

Nam Ngeaw, “Northern Thai Spicy Pork Sauce.” I ordered this one because it was the most iconically Northern choice. A classic tomato base, but just spicy and layered enough. I can’t stand this quality of meat- bones, cartilage, fat, gristle, whatever . . . I understand it’s a soup, but this is not for me. I don’t think there was one clean bite of just pork in the bowl, I found myself picking it apart for little bits with my spoon and fork. At times I’ve wondered if I’m fed the worst cuts because I’m an overweight white woman, or if other people are generally pleased to eat this. The hefty portions of blood pudding make up for it I suppose, and it was sufficiently smooth and semisweet. I couldn’t say whether the kanomjeen (vermicelli thin rice noodles) were good or not, fermented or not- I’m too ignorant to tell. I have had it enough times to realize I don’t really like it. I prefer thick noodles with some chew. I get how this bowl of soup has kept them in business for almost 50 years, it’s just not for me.

Nam Lor, described on their menu as half Nam Ngeaw and half Nam Ya Ga Thi, “Chicken Coconut Milk Sauce.” I don’t know why I was so surprised that this didn’t taste much different from the Nam Ngeaw. I’d say the flavors were equally good, and the quality of meat equally low.

Maybe I should have opted for the Moo Deng themed special Nam Ngeaw instead!

16. Na Chantra

Based on the mostly glowing google reviews, room price, and location in the mountains, I expected Na Chantra, the restaurant at the Chantra Kiri hotel, to be the highest quality food and most luxurious environment and experience among the Bib Gourmands. I was disappointed.

Being in the mountains, this is another place, like Tune In Garden, where, if you haven’t rented a car or motorcycle, you need to hire a Grab driver for a minimum of 4 hours just to have reliable transport there and back. So, add $35 to your bill off the top. Unlike Tune In, the ride there is not scenic. We all know the difference between a beautiful drive in the country, where green mountain vistas alternate with dense tropical foliage, and long drives through sort of sort of downtrodden outskirts, where the roads are lined with motorcycle repair shops, bus parking lots, construction warehouses, etc. This drive is the latter, and it’s long, about an hour from the old city.

When you arrive, the entrance is confusing, and there’s no signage- I climbed the same steep hill twice trying 3 different buildings before I finally landed in the restaurant. The view of the mountains beyond is good- but marred by lots of large plastic covered outdoor furniture between the open air dining room and the pool. It’s such a strange choice- what kind of patio furniture needs to be protected from the elements at the expense of making guests feel unwelcome? Have umbrellas and fans ready for those who wish to eat outside, and save the plastic for closing hours.

They no longer serve the Michelin recommended yellow curry with sea bass. The Michelin review said the Northern Thai sausage here was made from scratch, using the herbs grown on their farm outside, so I told the waitress I was excited to try it and asked if I could see where or how they made it. She looked confused and said they bought it at the market.

The mediocrity and carelessness did not end there, my food was covered with bugs. Like, dead gnats and I think a mosquito in every layer of my browning lettuce and my pork hinlay, clearly visible to the naked eye. When was this food bought? Why was it not covered? Who decided to serve this to me instead of a clean one, without even rinsing it or picking the bugs out themselves? How the fuck did this end up in the Michelin guide?

To make matters worse, they don’t serve beer, cocktails, or wine by the glass- a common tactic employed throughout Chiang Mai to force guests into buying overpriced bottles. The wine list did not impress. It’s hard to be fair about flavors when food is served like this, but I will try:

Still looking for the restaurant . . .

I have a sneaking suspicion the Michelin inspector’s stay was comped.

Cropped for the win!

What I actually looked at while eating.

A fresh coconut was the best thing I had.

Unseasoned minced pork with fermented rice noodles, herbs, baby onions, and two different chili sauces, with lettuce for wrapping. Flavors were fine, I guess?

The bugs on the obviously-not-fresh lettuce ruined it for me. It’s not acceptable, but I understand if something lands on the outermost leaves. This is the second layer of lettuce- there were bugs throughout. All those little dots are dead gnats, or rust spots where they had a snack.

Pork hinlay. More fat than pork, uninteresting flavor, tiny portion- I assure you these weren’t mutant giant peanuts.

17. Meena rice based cuisine

The menu was really limited, further limited by various unavailable items. Service was the slowest I experienced in Chiang Mai, and it’s the sort of place that prioritizes men and families. There’s a huge outdoor playground with jungle gyms and ponds, so the place is frequented by families with very young (read: loud) children. My order wasn’t even taken until a family of 13 that came in at the same time as me had all ordered and had half their food served. The food itself was subpar, and I ordered perhaps my all-time favorite Thai dish.

It’s a short drive outside of the historic city, in the middle of a sprawling sort of tourist village, with endless rows of closed shops (I guess they only open in the high season, or for evening markets?) selling so-called local crafts (many of which I recognize as wholesaled from Vietnam and Laos). It’s clearly meant to cater to tourists who value crunchy authenticity, but is in fact dystopian and bourgeois.

There are two charming antique houses here; I could see this being a fun place for a big group dinner or party.

Spicy wild betel leaf curry with crab meat. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t special.

5 Coloured Rice. Definitely 5 colors, not 5 flavors.

18. Dan Chicken Rice (San Soi)

I have spent an indordinate amount of time pondering Hainanese chicken rice, and eaten it what feels like a million times, because it is inevitably recommended throughout Malaysia, Vietnam, Thailand, and beyond. The first time I had cơm gà in Hoi An, prepared by a famous grandmother who had been serving it from a traditional recipe, in that same location, since 1969, I was just confused. Barely seasoned white chicken meat served over rice seasoned with its broth and a side bowl of its broth? Why would a struggle meal like this be so popular and iconic?

I finally came across the answer reading Adam Liaw’s blog; a Chinese Malaysian whose family arrived from Hainan over a century ago, he was able to explain the historic roots of the dish:

Back in Hainan there is a town call Wenchang famous for raising the juiciest, most delicious capons around. Over the centuries they perfected raising them into an art form, and the taste of the meat was so delicious it famously didn’t require any seasoning. As Hainanese emigrated over the 18th, 19th, and early 20th centuries, they brought the recipe with them, but not the perfect environment or know-how to raise the perfect capons. To make up for the relative blandness, dipping sauces were added; these vary by region even today- in Malaysia, for example, a spicier red chili sauce is served; in Thailand it tends to be a garlic soy.

The most analogous American food I can think of is the grilled cheese: a foreigner totally unaware of its iconic status in American cuisine could appreciate an excellent toastie, perhaps cheddar and munster on a quality rye. If you gave them kraft singles and mayo on toasted wonderbread they’d be confused and maybea bit disgusted, where an American would know the reference at least.

I see how suburban commuters driving along this road have kept this restaurant in business for 20+ years, but as a tourist, it’s not worth driving 40 minutes out of the old town for.

19. sanae

For a beef restaurant, the beef here is really low quality: flavorless, tough and chewy, and about 1/3 untrimmed fat. However, the restaurant ranks this low on my list because of its clientele. The place is overrun with disgusting Chinese- and I don’t mean the ethnicity, I mean the modern nationality and its accompanying culture. ABCs and Singaporeans don’t act like this.

These mainland tourists (or visa abusers) appalled me so much I got my food to go! They all smoke on stools right in front of the restaurant before and after their meal, not even bothering to close the sliding door. Worse, every single chainsmoking man opened the door on purpose, while smoking, and smoked halfway inside the restaurant, so they could take photos of their girlfriend or kids posing in front of the Michelin signs posted just inside the door. The place is not even 100 square feet, so it smells like an ashtray. Could they have just taken their photos before they lit up, and closed the door behind them? Sure, if they had any manners, but they don’t. This wasn’t an anomaly, before my food was even served, !!!! 5 !!!! different men did this.

One family was especially charming- dad hocked loogies all over the doorway after his smokes, while mom let their baby girl drop her diaper, squat and piss on the gravel . . . right next to the door, where people had to step around her to go in or out, and in full view of every single patron thanks to the floor to ceiling windows.

I blame the owner. Take away the stools, take away the ashtray, close the door in their faces, ask them to leave. Clearly the owner cares about trashcash more than ambience.

Needless to say, I won’t be back!

Never again!

Lemongrass juice. They don’t serve alcohol, and though there’s a menu of 8 or 10 juices, they all taste almost the same, oversweet with barely discernible flavors. Of the three I tried, tamarind was my favorite, lemongrass next, and chrysanthemum the worst.

Tamarind juice

Chrysanthemum juice

Lahpet Thoke, Burmese tea leaf salad. The only genuinely good thing at the restaurant that I’d bother eating again.The toasted nuts and seeds were especially delicious. This is a traditional Shan dish (the Shan people are an ethnic group of Thai dialect speakers who emigrated from China south to Burma, Thailand, Vietnam, Laos and India, beginning in the 900s). The star ingredient is fermented tea leaves, mixed with cabbage and various toasted legumes, topped with some sesame seeds and dried garlic. The flavor is nutty, very very slightly sour, really wonderful.

Beef fat fried rice. The rice tasted OK, but nothing nuanced. The steak was regrettable, not tender at all and a bit of an odd taste. I don’t understand and didn’t touch the untrimmed fat. The owner claims they buy two freshly slaughtered cows per day and that’s what we eat. I really don’t know what to think.

Sun dried beef with Ma Kwan pepper. Being the North, I was expecting something closer to the sundried beef I had in Laos. Makwan (or makween) is a special local Northern Thai species of pepper related to Sichuan pepper that peaks in early November, so being there November 8th, I was especially excited to try it. The pepper was good, but there were no other flavors. The sundried beef had no sundried taste, it was just sinewy.

20. Rotee Pa Day

I’ve often felt the Michelin reviewers in Asia are far too generous, awarding restaurants that would never garner similar recognition in Europe or the Americas. Rotee Pa Day is possibly the best example of this I’ve come across.

It’s competent roti with standard off the shelf processed ingredients (the cheapest chocolate syrup and condensed milk available at the supermarket). They’re not even using real Nutella, it’s some sort of watery mix of the condensed milk and chocolate syrup. Same as any street corner in Malaysia, no better in terms of ingredients or cooking, and worse service. You write your order down and put it on a spike, so if you order first, you get served last. I was literally the first person at the cart, but waited 15 minutes and was mildly assaulted by a tour group of 7 or 8 from Singapore. YouTubers with dslrs are crawling around filming every moment. It’s better than a sandwich from 7-11 for the same price, that’s the only nice thing I can say.

I was surprised to be the only one who wandered into the wat next door to sit on the steps and eat. Most of the patrons stood in the street assuring each other of how good this was! Yet minutes later, there were a bunch of disapproving reviews on google maps. Sometimes I think I’m a dumb sycophant for trying to visit every Michelin wherever I may be, but these people are next level.

I got the most expensive option, at 45 baht: banana, egg, nutella. It . . . is what it is.

Jahar Palace, Kota Bharu, Kelantan | Malaysia

Per wikipedia:

Jahar Palace was built in 1855 by Sultan Muhammad II of Kelantan for his grandson Raja Bendahara Long Kundor. The palace has a pentagon-shaped porte-cochère with the first floor balcony from which members of the royal family could watch ceremonies held in front of the palace. It was named after a jahar (flame of the forest) tree which was growing on the grounds at the time.

That’s . . . not quite right. A house was built caddy-corner to the 1844 Grand Palace (still used for official ceremonies, and not open to the public) in 1855 as the “flower making palace,” where precious silver and gold trees were made to pay annual tribute to Siam. In 1887, the current Jahar Palace was built directly in front of it.

The story of how Sultan Muhammad II came to the Kelantan throne is a little interesting: following his uncle’s death, he was one of three contenders. The first was King Treasurer of Banggul (Phraya Banggul/Phra Bidaksha) Long Jenal bin Paduka Sri Sultan Long Yunus, the oldest living brother of Sultan Muhammad I, already an old man and widely considered a placeholder until either the future Muhammad II (whom he considered his heir), or his main opponent, Raja Kampung Laut Long Muhammad (Tuan Besar) bin Raja Muda Ismail, came out on top. So, they dutifully started a war . . . but none of them took it seriously. 😂

In the book Kisah Pelayaran Abdullah Munsyi to Kelantan which was published in 1838 , Munshi Abdullah recounted the state of this civil war:

Every day, the King Treasurer's army will fire their muskets (guns) towards the King of Kampung Laut's fort. The king of Kampung Laut will then respond with only bullets from his own rifle. By noon, both parties were tired and hungry, so they would stop for lunch. The battle would then resume around noon for an hour or two, after which it was time for tea. A truce was called and both sides would cease from their battlefields and resume the conflict the next day. And the siege continued.

When Munshi Abdullah asked the elderly Long Jenal why he wasn’t really trying to win, for example by ordering a tunnel dug under the Kampung Laut fort and blowing it up? he replied:

"Ah, if I had done that, then I might have killed some people in the camp of the King of the Sea Village. You know, we know each other and our soldiers know each other. It would be impolite and improper to start a bloodshed in which both sides will suffer losses."

Eventually both sides applied to the King of Siam (Rama III) for help; Long Jenal was told to stay in Kelantan and quite literally hold down the fort; Long Senik was ordered by Rama III to visit the Governor of Songkhla, and told there he would be made Sultan Muhammad II of Kelantan; Tuan Besar was invited to Bangkok, and told by Rama III personally that he would have to give up his claims to Kelantan, but would instead be made the King of Pattani. Amusingly, Pattani already had a king, who was in turn shuffled off and made King of Jering. The transition process took around 5 years, with Long Jenal abdicating in favor of Long Senik in 1837 (when his reign as Sultan Muhammad II officially began) and Tuan Besar finally and fully packing off to Pattani in 1842.

Sultan Muhammad II was succeeded by his son Sultan Ahmad Tengah in 1886, who in turn moved into the Grand Palace and gave Istana Jahar to his own son and heir, Long Kundur, the future Sultan Muhammad III, in 1887. Unfortunately, Long Kundur was already quite ill, so his younger brother, the future Sultan Mansur, was simultaneously appointed Long Kundur’s heir and regent. Sultan Ahmad Tengah died in 1889, just three years into his reign; Sultan Muhammad III’s reign was even shorter, ending with his death, aged just 44, in 1891. Sultan Mansur lasted on the throne 8 years; not long, but not short in those days.

The royal family continued to use the palace as a residence on and off through the 1950s, but less and less after the more modern Batu palace was built within easy walking distance in 1939. Today, both palaces are museums housing various antique and vintage personal effects of the Kelentan royals.

The collection at Jahar Palace is far superior, with excellent examples of textiles, jewelry, household effects, etc. There’s also a large array of vintage weapons, some cars, some royal canoes . . . really a bit of everything.

I found the explanatory placards unsatisfactory, at least in English, but they gave me a jumping off point for keyword researching the things that interest me, like the different types of textiles.

The two checked textiles are punca patong cloth, so called because the end, or ‘root’ is cut off. It can be woven in either cotton or silk, and stripes and checks are the most common patterns. It is usually used as a sash by men and a kembang, or wrap skirt, by women.

Pelangi Cloth

Screen Batik

Punca Patong

Batik

Songket

Limar

The inside of the palace is very interesting, architecturally. The back house is in traditional Malay style, though quite large, even grand; the front house combines Malay and Western styles, with a pillared marble ground floor, and a wooden upstairs, subdivided with panels and carvings. It’s unfortunately a bit difficult to tell which ‘rooms’ are original, and which were constructed for ease of creating the usual boring exhibits found in Malay museums venerating the marriage and bedding ceremonies. It was clear to me that many layouts were unnatural; with so many brass pedestal dishes so placed, for example, that there is no room for people to sit and eat, forget walk about serving. Likewise, though I am unfamiliar with royal Muslim Malay marriages of a century ago, I presume the royal bedroom housed one beautifully carved bed, and there are currently three packed in side by side simply because the rest of the house has been filled with vitrines.

One thing I hated about the house was the preponderance of yellow polyester. I suppose it’s an attempt to cheaply imitate royal cloth of gold, though I doubt the house was originally decked in such a manner anyway, that’s a rather 1960s/70s new-money concept of ‘royal colors’ . . . it’s something I’ve noticed in multiple museums, and I hate it. I also don’t think it suits the very impressive woodwork.

I also sort of despised the staff here. The museum closes at 4:45, but they lied to me and told me it closed at 4:00, and started chasing me around at 3:00 telling me to hurry up and leave . . . they were also sitting at the entrance smoking and chatting, which is gross. I never want to smell cigarette smoke inside a museum. Still, the place is certainly worth a visit, and were I ever again in Kelentan I would go back.

St. Paul's Church, Christ Church, and the Dutch Graveyard, Melaka | Malaysia

Possibly the most popular tourist attraction in Malacca is the ruins of the oldest European building east of India, Our Lady of the Annunciation, built by the Portuguese in 1566. Annunciation was a rebrand that didn’t stick. St. Paul’s, as it is now called, was the name of the 1521 chapel demolished to build the current ruined church; the name of the church school founded there in 1548; and the name the Dutch kept when consecrating the building as a Dutch Reform church in 1641. The Bovenkerk (church at the top of the hill, ie. St. Paul’s) was deconsecrated when the Benedenkerk (church at the bottom of the hill, ie. Christ Church) was completed in 1753.

the view from the hill

Needless to say, Malaysians don’t visit for religious or cultural reasons. They’re there to take pictures of and against panoramic views of the city and straits beyond, always posing at the top of the stairs and in the windowless brick arches.

an obnoxious selfie taker

The more ridiculous among them pose among the propped up gravestones as well; there’s absolutely no sensitivity that this is a religious place of rest. They’d never permit behavior like this in a mosque or any type of Chinese or Indian temple, but persist in it here.

1952 St. Francis Xavier statue

St. Francis Xavier, a founder of the Jesuits and the greatest Catholic missionary in the East since St. Thomas, took his vows at Montmarte in 1534, and received the title deeds for St. Paul’s chapel in 1548. Having spent a decade establishing Christianity in Portuguese India, he used this church as his home base between missionary trips to Japan, the Maluku islands, and Borneo; he was the very first Christian missionary in each of these places.

He died on Shangchuan island in 1552, on a mission to Ming China. His body did not decompose much in its temporary grave there, and that was taken as a sign he was a saint. He was temporarily reburied for the second time at St. Paul’s, before being sent to Goa for permanent burial.

The open, caged-over burial vault is considered the one used for Francis Xavier, though there’s no archaeological or historical evidence to support the claim. People throw coins, flowers and money down through the grate, a rather Buddhist/Hindu way of honoring a Catholic saint; one is reminded that almost all converts of later Christian missions were Chinese and Indian, not Malay.

The apocryphal burial vault of St. Francis Xavier

Francis Xavier actually never received permanent burial; most of his body still rests in a crystal urn at the basilica at Old Goa; the rest was broken up into relics and sent to the churches he founded.

In 1614 (five years before he was beatified and eight before he was canonized), his entire right arm was detached. The upper arm was divided into two pieces, each sent to a Jesuit college; the hand and forearm were sent to the Church of the Gesù in Rome, where they remain (though they do go on tour)!

According to the Kristang (a local creole people also known as the Malaccan Portuguese), the right forearm of the Francis Xavier statue (installed in 1952 to honor the 400th anniversary of his final trip to Malacca) was immediately severed by a bolt of lightning, paralleling the removal of his real arm, surely an act of divine intervention . . .

the 1814 British lighthouse

Directly in front of the church is an 1814 lighthouse built by the British. It’s siting, though logical, must have seemed almost disrespectfully incongruous, even at the time.

The church as we now see it is in worse shape than if it had been left untouched. In 1930, Major CE Bone, the first president of the Malacca Historical Society, doubtless overwhelmed by boredom and curiosity, made several amateur, idiotic changes, including deleteriously repairing and rebuilding the old laterite brick structure with concrete, removing the dais and altar, unnecessarily excavating clearly marked tombs, removing all the tombstones and propping the prettiest against the walls, and repaving the floor. Looking at photos of the church from the 1920s and earlier, one wonders how he imagined his work was an improvement. Where is the large tomb to the right of the arch today, for example?

100 years ago v. today

Most of the tombstones are of Dutch East India company employees and their relatives. Life feels so short now, and whenever I read these I’m reminded of how much shorter it was then, particularly for women and children. I found it interesting that many of the names weren’t quite Dutch, French rather: Huguenots or their descendants who had fled to the Netherlands as anti-Protestant hysteria swept France in the 17th century.

Hereunder lies buried Reynier d'Dieu, in his life Chief Merchant in the service of the Honourable Company. Buried on the 17th July, 1655.

Here lies buried Theodorus Herbers. Died in the 9th year of his age, 18th April, 1659.

Hereunder lies buried Maria Noelmans, wife of Theodorius Zas, Minister at Malacca, who piously fell asleep in the Lord on the 14th March, 1660.

Three to whom Nature gave one house and joint dwelling now lie here together enclosed in this tomb. Died the 29th December 1647,  and the 25th February and19th March, 1660. The " Gaffel-boyer " is our grandfather's first discovery. Our father's first house now closes our mouths. (" Gaffel-boyer "—an old-fashioned Dutch vessel.)

Here lies Emanuel du Moulin, in his life Head Merchant and Harbour Master in the State of Malacca, born in the year 1620 on December 5th, blessed by God and called closer to the lord on July 25th of this year 1660. (He was Harbour Master 1656-1660)

Hereunder lies buried Juffrou Maria Bort, who was the wife of Nicolaes Müller, Under-Merchant and Warehouse-Keeper here. Born at Amsterdam the 5th August, 1639, and piously fell asleep in the Lord the 25th August, 1661 aged 22 years and 20 days. (probably a daughter of Balthasar Bort, Secretary in Malacca 1646; Governor 1668-1679.)

The souls of our first son and daughter God took to Heaven's throne and left their bodies here below. Hereunder lies buried Daniel Massis the younger, born on the 21st June 1658, died the 19th February 1660, and Sophia Massis, born the 21st June 1664 and died the 11th November 1665. (probably the children of Johan Massis, Winkelier at Malacca in 1659 and afterwards Commandant at Perak and Ligor.)

Here lies buried Hendrik Schenkenbergh, in his life Chief Merchant and Second Personage of the Town and Fortress of Malacca. Died the 29th June, 1671. (He was Chief Merchant or Supercargo in Malacca 1668-1670.)

Here lies buried Balthasar Sonmans, only son of Mathaeus Sonmans and Johanna Rijcke. Born the 30th July, 1671 and died the 3rd of August of the same year. Here lies buried Johanna Rijcke, Wife of Mathaeus Sonmans, only daughter of Isaack Rijcke and Maria Bort. Born the 2nd February, 1655, and died the 25th January, 1673.

To the memory of Juffrou Johanna du Moulin, Wife of Heer Balthasar Bert, Councillor Extraordinary of India, Governor and Director of the Town and Fortress of Malacca. Died 17th March, 1676. Johanna du Moulin rests under this stone, whose immortal soul, when she had trodden this world's path just two months and two days less than twenty-three years, God came and bore away to its last rest. Submissive to God's will, she felt no pain in parting from the body.

Here lies beneath Joanna Six; born in Taiwan; housewife of merchant and commander of the fortress Jacobus Pedel, died January 1st 1696 at 40 years, 9 months 14 days old, likewise . . .

Here rests Constantyn Johannes Rooselaar, Son of the very honourable Heer Pieter Rooselaar, Councillor Extraordinary of India, also Governor and Director of this Town and Fortress of Malacca. Born, 13th July, 1703; died, the 18th January, 1707. As a balm for my former dear wife Sophia Huichelbosch, Heer Pieter Rooselaar erected this monument; born in Rotterdam on March 24th 1678 and died in childbed March 9th 1709. (Pieter Rooselaar was Governor of Malacca 1707-1709)

I do not speak Dutch, and most of the translations of the tombstone inscriptions in this post come from the 1905 book Historical Tombstones of Malacca, by Robert Norman Bland, available HERE FOR FREE from the Cornell University Library.

An invaluable record dating to before Major Bone ripped the place up, the book records the position of the tombstones in the church floor, provides translations (though somewhat flawed) of each and photographs of some, and a few additional photos of important nearby buildings (including À Famosa and Christ Church) as they stood at the time. I only photographed the tombstones I found the most aesthetically appealing, but there are many more.

from Robert Norman Bland's 1905 book, Historical Tombstones of Malacca

There is a more modern and complete guidebook reflecting the finds and changes of the last hundred years, the 2013 Historical Tombstones and Graves at St. Paul’s Hill Malacca by Dennis De Witt, a local Eurasian descended from the original Dutch and Portuguese families. It’s certainly not prohibitively expensive at rm 18, but I could not find it for sale in person at any of the hawker tables, or available from the publisher in eBook format. If I ever do come across it I’ll likely buy it, but presently cannot stay in one place long enough to arrange its delivery. I was able to read some helpful pages on google books preview.

from Dennis De Witt's 2013 book, Historical Tombstones and Graves at St. Paul’s Hill Malacca

from Dennis De Witt's 2013 book, Historical Tombstones and Graves at St. Paul’s Hill Malacca

Coming up against incomplete information, I found myself using google lens to translate some of the gravestones I had photographed. Interestingly, if set to ‘detect language’, they were not recognized as Dutch, but as Afrikaans. I suppose this is because Afrikaans derives from 17th c. Dutch dialects, while modern Dutch has standardized differently and evolved faster.

Maria de la Queillerie, wife of founder of the Cape Colony Jan van Riebeeck, was one of the aforementioned Huguenot descendants, the daughter of a traveling minister in fact, brought up in the Pays-Bas speaking both Dutch and French at home. Maria always sailed with Jan on his constant journeys between VOC outposts. She died of smallpox in Malacca in 1664, aged 35. Considered the ancestral mother of the Afrikaaners, a woman of inspirational piety and intelligence, her tombstone (though not her remains) was removed to Cape Town in 1915. A plaque on the floor currently marks her tomb, an odd exception to the rule at St. Paul’s.

Maria de la Queillerie

There are also several Portuguese tombs and their stones here. Most obviously predate the Dutch graves, though there was eventually some intermarriage between the Dutch and local descendants of the Portuguese.

According to Bland, Major Bone was not the first to move tombstones away from the earthly remains they were intended to mark; he writes regarding St. Paul’s: “It is probable that this became a favourite burial place with the Dutch when they had built their own church by the river, and that some of the earlier Portuguese stones were displaced by them. In one case it is clear that a Portuguese inscription has been obliterated and a Dutch inscription placed on the same stone. At a later date some of the early Dutch tombstones were displaced to make room for the burial vaults of a later generation . . . Most of the Portuguese stones have been moved to the church built by the Dutch and now used for the services of the Church of England [Christ Church].”

Sepulchre of Dom Miguel de Castro, brother in Christ, given by the next king in honor of Dom João de Castro, the captain of this fortress having died. (João de Castro, Viceroy of Portuguese India 1546-1548, was the lifelong best friend of Infante Luís, Duke of Beja. João died in 1548 and Luís in 1555. Miguel, João's son, was Captain at Malacca in 1573 and again from 1575 to 1577, sailing from Goa to retake the town from Aceh 3 times between 1573 and 1575, eventually succeeding. His tombstone appears to have been donated by Henrique, the Cardinal-King, Luís' little brother and the top recruiter of Jesuit missionaries to colonial Portuguese posts.)

Here lies Monsignor PETRUS of the Order of Jesus, Second Bishop of Japan. Died in the Straits of Singapore in the month of February, 1598.

S. de ANT° (ANTONIO) PINTO DA FONSECA, Commendador da Ordem de Sam Tiago (Sao Thiago), Provedor Geral (General) que foi das Fortalezas da India, Capitam Geral do Mar e Terra nas paragens do Sul. Falleceo aos 27 de Dezembro de 1635- Grave of ANTONIO PINTO DE FONSECA, Commander of the Order of St. James, Provedor-General of the Fortresses of India, Captain-General of the Sea and Land in parts of the South. Died on the 27th December, 1635.

Francisca Barber, most pious wife of Captain Jacob Barber. She was already pregnant when she went from the isle of Bombay to China, accompanying her husband, and about to depart tomorrow from the banks of Malacca, where her pregnancy (to the great dismay of the hospitable Dutch people, who dedicated themselves to preserving their guest's life) became fatal; she succumbed in labor before being delivered of her fatal burden. September 10th 1695.

Around the back of the church outside, trailing down the hill, are 19th century British graves. It’s more than a bit horrifying how hawkers cling to them.

pointlessly bricked up and cemented windows

trash can etc. too close for comfort to an old British grave

There’s an outdoor stair leading down to the Dutch cemetery, past a continuous complex of abandoned British colonial buildings, including what was once the Resident’s house (and then Governor’s Museum) and its outhouses to the left, and to the right Kampung Tetek, Malay houses backing onto neglected British tombs. The Residency seems to have been a functioning museum as recently as 2 years ago, but is now closed.

another needlessly closed museum; more British graves line a closed walkway down the hill to the Dutch cemetery.

It appears to be old worker housing?

beautiful old offices or housing

atop this old British tomb, in the corner by the local houses and closed walkway, are lots of empty plastic drink bottles etc. the disrespect . . .

The stair should open onto Jalan Mahkamah, between Dutch shopfronts to the left and the Dutch cemetery to the right. Unfortunately, it’s been closed off for no discernible reason, so you actually have to walk all the way down and around the hill in one direction or the other to visit the Dutch cemetery. A plaque on the Dutch shopfronts commemorates their gazetting as landmarks in 1988, but they seem to have been abandoned for a minimum of 15 years.

Should be orange, not purple?

The Dutch graveyard was used for Dutch burials between 1670–1682 and British 1818–1838. There are only 5 Dutch monuments and 33 British; it is believed that the British moved Dutch tombstones up to the ruined St. Paul’s, though I’ve found no evidence or testimony of that.

This c. 1678 tombstone for a couple is written in Dutch, but the wife is named Magdalena de Costa, indicating she was at least partially Portuguese, possibly descended from Afonso Lopes da Costa, who was Captain of Malacca in 1519. The motto below the seal reads 'Christ is my hope.'

The obelisk is for White and Harding, two mid-twenties naval officers who died in the short-lived War of Naning (August 1831 - June 1832). It was less a war than an uprising led by Dol Said, the hereditary chief of Naning, who didn't want to pay the 10% flat tax on produce imposed by the British on all Malaccan vassal states. Needless to say, the British won.

This tomb sparked my curiosity about the Millers of Monk Castle. Monkcastle was first attested in 1536 as the administrative centre for the north-west portion of the extensive estates held by the monks of Kilwinning Abbey. The estates passed in the mid-1550s from Church to commendator, at that time a Hamilton. The building was recorded as a “pretty fair building, well planted” in the first years of the 17th century, but a ruin by the end.

the ruins of Monkcastle, kept in more or less their current state since 1895

The ruin first came into the Miller family in 1723, and Alexander William Miller, the father mentioned on Janette’s gravestone, built the extant and occupied Monkcastle House nearby circa 1820, so halfway through her short life. It was probably designed by the architect David Hamilton, a descendant of the original commendators now best known for Nelson’s monument and the Royal Exchange.

There was a serious fire at Monkcastle House in 2016.

Said father was not a member of the EIC, and predeceased this daughter by three years, so I find it interesting that only he is mentioned on her tombstone, not the intended husband or perhaps other relative(s) she must have travelled to Malacca for, or older brother/family scion who must have paid for it.

In Memory Of
DAVID MUDIE, Midshipman,
Third Son of JAMES & JANE MUDIE
Of Pitmuies, Scotland
Who Died On His Passage From Bengal To China
On Board The H.C.S. Vansittart,
On The 12th August 1831,
Aged 17 Years
All The Flesh Is Grass & All The Goodliness Thereof
As The Flower Of The Field The Grass Withereth, The Flower Fadeth
But Even The Word Of Our God Shall Stand Forever,
As In Adam All Die, Even So In Christ Shall All Be Made Alive.

This one just seemed so sad because he was so young. No matter what happened, passing on a wooden boat between Bengal to China is a hard way to go for a very young British person.

Walking around, I often wondered about the clusters of people who died within a month or so of each other, throughout the centuries. Were they on the same plague-ridden boat? In the same jungle battle? Victims of the same local malarial outbreak? All the flesh is grass, indeed.

Perak Museum, Taiping | Malaysia

Taiping is not a place worth visiting, in my opinion; one of its few somewhat redeeming sites is the Perak museum, Malaysia’s first and oldest museum. Founded in 1883 by Sir Hugh Low, its initial focus was natural history; particularly zoology, geology, botany, and ethnology. The big-statue-of-a-white-man-needlessly-relocated-to-a-disrespectfully-insignificant-corner (a cliché in resentful former European colonies) is not Low, however; nor is it Sir Frank Swettenham, the majority fundraiser for the museum and arguably the most eminent Brit in colonial Malaysia (Resident of Perak 1889-1895, Resident-General of the Federated Malay States 1896-1901, Governor and Commander-in-Chief of the Straits Settlements 1901-1904). Rather, it is Robert Sandilands Frowd Walker, curiously bylined on wikipedia as a ‘football player,’ despite his very successful 30+ year career in the British colonial army.

Walker attended Sandhurst; served in Gibraltar, Malta, Hong Kong, Singapore, and accompanied his superior for the investiture of King Chulalongkorn in the Order of St. Michael and St. George, all before landing in Perak; molded Perak’s police force for over 20+ years to a high military standard, keeping relative peace among the Chinese gangs during the mining boom; and eventually rose to Resident of both Selangor and Perak. When crime was low, he put his police force to work building out the Taiping Lake Gardens; he also raised enough funds to ensure a clergyman always presided over the local All Saints’ Church. He was a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, the Royal Zoological Society, the Royal Colonial Society and the Royal Colonial Institute. He commanded the dismounted colonial troops at Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee in 1897, and laid the foundation stone of the Diamond Jubilee Wadda Gurdwara Sahib at Penang. His nickname among local Malays was “the black panther”; Chinese feared his Perak Armed Police Force of “Sikh devils”; fellow Brits described him as "at the best of times very much a martinet" and "a difficult man to work with.” . . . . yet, above all, he is apparently remembered for scoring the winning goal of an England/Scotland match at 21, and introducing cricket and football to the locals in the areas he governed.

Though it’s not much of a present-day practice, this museum is still where taxidermy is taught and practiced in Malaysia. Considered a target unworthy of bombing in WWII, galleries upon galleries of dryrotted and peeling creatures of all types, many now endangered and some extinct, most preserved by Low and his team 150 years ago, remain. I only took a few photos because I find them macabre (and their circa 1990s or early 2000s photo mural backgrounds tacky) but these make up the majority of the museum.

Doubtless to my discredit, I find the artifacts of local material culture much more beautiful and interesting. There is impressive metal and enamelwork, century old Chinese wedding robes with incredible embroidery, vintage and antique Malay gold-wrapped thread embroidered red velvets, songket and other traditional fabrics.

There are also some artifacts from the Negrito native people, mainly basketry but some masks and other objects.

Finally, there’s a very small library, which consists mostly of books in English (though there are some in other European languages) dating from the colonial era, clearly left behind by the Brits. The most recent items are science periodicals for children from perhaps 30 years ago. Hours are posted on the door, yet when I entered there was no worker present and all the bookcases were locked up. Within perhaps five minutes, a woman entered in a huff (obviously alerted to my presence by some security guard) and announced that the library was by appointment only and I was not permitted to look at or touch anything. That’s not what the sign says, not what the website says, and I have found no proof anywhere that this is true.

I asked if there was a collection catalog to peruse in advance of making an appointment; she claimed there was not. I asked if the books had been digitized and published online . . . they have not. Perhaps she has other responsibilities, but it very much seems the negligent oversight of her superiors has allowed her to reduce her job to sitting around on her phone in silence, and she’s come to expect so few visitors that she prefers to do so in the air conditioned employee cafeteria rather than the library itself, which they don’t bother to cool.

Outside, there are vintage luxury cars that I guess were purchased for heads of state at some point. There are also examples of early public transportation, including small buses and railcars.

Across the street is the water company office, still in its the original wooden building.

Beyond the museum, one can see the green-shuttered colonial jail, which I was shocked to find is still in use, hence the oddly covered-up fence.

A fifteen minute walk down the street reveals this was the main drag of the colonial era; All Saints’ Church and the Officer’s Club are easily reachable by foot (despite them not bothering to build sidewalks), and a couple other closed up colonial buildings are along the way.

Chinpracha House, Phuket | Thailand

On the outskirts of Phuket town, Chinpracha house is “thought to have been built”* in the third quarter of the 19th century, described in Thai sources as “in the final years of the reign of Rama IV” (Rama IV ruled from 1851- 1868). *This is the phrase used in all sources, as if the family doesn’t remember or can’t locate any records. In my opinion, perhaps an original house was built here in that era and later renovated beyond recognition, reaching its final form 20ish years later. Thais in the area who pride themselves on their Peranakan heritage insist on calling this sort of hodgepodge Victorian architectural style ‘Sino-Portuguese,’ though the Portuguese had been driven out of Phuket well over 200 years before construction began. Perhaps when I make it to Portugal I’ll change my opinion, but stylistically it looks to derive much more directly from the European-fantasy type palaces built by Chulalongkorn (Rama V) in the 1900s and 1910s.

Directly translated, “Chinpracha” means “Chinese Mr. Chua,” which makes me chuckle- they obviously didn’t take choosing a last name too seriously when the 1913 surname act came into effect and many locally-born Chinese felt socially pressured to assume more Thai-ethnic-sounding surnames. The lady of the house (an 80 or 90 something grandma) still lives upstairs, and her grandson and other family members lead the 150 baht tour around the house, and are happy to answer questions to the degree their quite decent English allows. Downstairs is a museum stuffed with all the family’s old furniture, most of it imported from China and Europe at doubtless great expense. Unlike many other museum houses I’ve visited, everything is their old stuff, not antiques bought secondhand and packed inside to create a cash-cow “museum”. They can talk about their old tin business, import-export business, liquor licenses, political influence etc. in some detail, and that history is reflected by the stuff they held onto.

Downstairs is a little café where they serve very basic snacks and drinks, and they have rental costumes if you want to dress in the Peranakan style and do a little photoshoot at the house. Right next door is a blue elephant cooking school in another, slightly younger, old mansion; if I had a bit more money at the time I visited I might have eaten something or gotten a drink there just to check out the interior. It’s also very close to the Michelin bib gourmand Charm Dining Gallery, a much better place to eat. For my final note, I did seek out and watch the old Oliver Stone film Heaven and Earth, which this house served as a set for certain scenes of . . . I enjoyed the house visit, but don’t bother with the movie!

Michelin Meals in Penang | Malaysia

Due to inescapable shitty circumstances, I’ve spent way more time in Penang than I ever wanted to, probably 2 months altogether. Eating is the main activity in Penang, and I’m always interested in trying Michelin mentioned restaurants, because it feels like a safe way to stretch my palate into cuisines I’m unfamiliar with. I only bother with places that get stars or a bib gourmand, and I’m not a completionist- if I have to eat a meal anyway, have the money, and it’s closeby, OK. Otherwise, don’t care. I also prefer to focus on local, traditional food; I have been and will return to Thailand and India, for example, so there’s no reason for me to eat Thai or Indian in Malaysia. Anyway, these are the Michelin rated restaurants I visited in Penang, ranked from most to least favorite.

Sardarji

Yes, I know I just wrote I can eat Indian food in India. However, I would be amiss to not put Sardarji’s first simply because when I’m in Penang and don’t feel like going out, the takeout special below is what I always order to my hotel. It’s reasonably priced at under rm 30 (it would be under rm 20 with plain rice instead of the cheese naan I prefer), and I typically stretch it out into three meals with chopped fresh white mushrooms and side biryani rice. Many famous restaurants in Penang only serve good food in their dining room, sending the scraps and mistakes out for delivery orders. Sardarji’s has always been tasty and consistent.

dhal, buttermilk salad, aloo ghobi, cheese naan

Dal Makhani

Fish Korma

Salt Lassi

Rasa Rasa

The menu at Rasa Rasa is simple- classic Malaysian lunch sets and some Thai dishes. The food was fresh and tasty, the owner was kind, and the space is small and straightforward. Nothing sophisticated but would definitely eat there again were I in the neighborhood.

Bihun with Sambal Prawns

White Coffee

Communal Table by Gēn

I had two different experiences at Communal Table; one excellent, the other not so much. The first time I visited was nothing short of fantastic, the best meal I had in Penang by far; I walked in and did the tasting menu (which apparently is the same for lunch and dinner) and almost popped the food was so delicious. Every item on the menu was something I would never have chosen for myself, but was incredibly impressed by- the chicken heart, wingbean salad, and claypot ulam rice were all standouts. There was nothing I didn’t like, or found insufficiently nuanced. Every dish was perfectly balanced and delicately plated. I also tried a shot of tuak (Malaysian primitive rice wine) and its sparkling version, which were certainly not my favorite wines ever, but I would absolutely try again. I suspected at the time and have confirmed in retrospect that I was being served by the founder, so the cooks must have been doing their absolute best.

My second visit was about 3 months later: I walked in for lunch and was turned away for arriving too late (google maps hours say 3pm but their last seating is apparently 2pm); I was told to make a reservation for the next day. I did not because, frankly, having eaten there already, I was indifferent to whether or not I ate there again- happy to have a decent meal, happy to move on and try somewhere new, depending on where I found myself at lunchtime. I did walk in immediately upon their opening, and was scolded! The waiter said “We really only take reservations for lunch, I remember you from yesterday” and acted like it was a big deal to accommodate me despite the place being near-empty and me being a party of one. I had checked their online reservation system just an hour prior and seen free slots for literally every half hour from opening to closing, so while I appreciate they may purchase ingredients daily based on reservations, there was no reason to pretend they were making a huge sacrifice by serving me during a very slow lunch hour.

When seated, I asked for the tasting menu, which looked to have changed since last I was there, and was refused, told it was too much food for me . . . sigh. My mother died of complications of ulcerative colitis. My uncle died of kidney failure. I’m getting a gastroscopy myself in literally 3 days and obviously not looking forward to it. As long as I am in good enough health to eat and drink the best, and whatever I want, in large amounts, I intend to. Unless CTbG had not bought a single extra serving’s worth of ingredients for the tasting menu, and planned on turning away everyone who did not make an advanced reservation, even come dinnertime, I should have been served. I ordered à la carte instead, and it was not great. The local oysters are bland compared to the American oysters I grew up with; the stingray cracker tasted old and had lots of bony bits; the stinky tofu wasn’t stinky. The chef’s pouring, orange wine from Spain, was terrible in my opinion, yet inexplicably popular in Penang, popping up at several restaurants. They didn’t have any tuak, so I tried a local beer, which was forgettable.

It’s fair to say Communal Table is still overall high quality and shows some imagination, but expensive and inconsistent . . . and I don’t really want to pay $75 for a hit-or-miss lunch with bold waitstaff.

L: Golden Pomfret R: Chicken Heart

Pork Skewer

Chawan

Wingbean Salad

Claypot Ulam Rice

Barramundi

“Banana Cream Pie”

?! I don’t remember, it was only for that day’s tasting menu

Penang Oyster

Stingray Cracker

Stinky Tofu

Hazy NEIPA

“Sweet Corn” dessert

Penang Road Famous Laksa

Serving up the old school classics to hundreds of locals and tourists daily, this place sort of sets the standard for what penang laksa is. Assam means sour, and the broth is sour and sweet and herbal. I liked it, didn’t love it, but would have no problem eating it again. The char kuey teow was a bit too greasy and bland for me; I can’t help but wonder how these greasy spoons get Michelin bib gourmands in SE Asia. It would be like giving every half-decent suburban American diner a Michelin nod. The omelette was unexpectedly excellent- I was really surprised by it. I’d go back for the omelette. The softshell crabs are sold by a streethawker who goes around into all the restaurants with her snack menu. They could use more seasoning- salt, pepper, salted egg yolk- but were still crunchy and a good snack for walking around, coming in a plastic cup. The nutmeg juice is a local classic: I love a refreshing sugary juice once in a while.

Penang Assam Laksa (sour and spicy fish broth with lemongrass, galangal, chili, thick rice noodles, onions, mint, pineapple, strong and sweet prawn paste, and ginger flower)

Char Kuey Teow (eggs, bean sprouts, chives, shrimp, sliced fish cakes, fried with flat rice noodles)

Amy’s Famous Omelette- half oyster, half shrimp

Fried Small Softshell Crabs

My own café

The simplest menu, the cheapest food, the emptiest restaurant at lunchtime . . . I have no idea how this place survives, but the Assam Laksa and Durian ice coffee were excellent and I’d happily go back anytime.

Penang Assam Laksa

Durian White Coffee

tho yuen

Bibik’s kitchen

Bibik’s was the first nyonya food I ever ate. She is an overbearing auntie (Bibik literally means “auntie” in Malay), and the service is impeccable. The food is on the mild/sweet side. The standouts are the kerabu salads, jiu hu char, and hot nutmeg drink.

Rose Apple Kerabu (rose apple, cucumber, shallots and torch ginger, dressed in lime juice and sambal belacan)

Udang Masak Nenas (mild shrimp and pineapple curry)

Jiu Hu Char (shredded jicama, finely-julienned dried cuttlefish, carrots and pork, topped with spring onions)

Loh Bak (5-spice marinated pork wrapped with bean curd skin and deep-fried)

Butterfly Pea Flower, Pandan, Lemongrass and White Rice

lemongrass is my personal fave

Bubur Cha Cha (taro, sweet potatoes, bananas, sago, beans in a lightly pandan-flavoured coconut milk base)

Nutmeg drink

Ivy’s Nyonya Cuisine

The menu here was extremely limited and classic, mostly intended for large parties. I didn’t love everything- the barley drink, fish maw soup, and sambal hae bee were interesting, but I doubt I’ll ever eat them again. The kapitan chicken, assam seabass and bee koh moy were wonderful, with more interesting and complex flavor profiles than others I’ve tried. On returning to Penang a second time, I forgot about Ivy’s, and I think it’s because of the really boring interior. The elderly owners are understandably tired of running around and have purchased one of those Korean robot waiters; it was my first time using one. I don’t mind but obviously can’t call it a warm or luxury experience. They have a bit of memorabilia in a couple display cases, but nothing I’d call décor. I’m not sure I’ve ever forgotten good food before due to lack of a memorable aesthetic, so Ivy’s may be the first. The set dinner is a good deal and worth a visit.

Sambal Hae Bee (dried spicy shrimp)

Kapitan Curry Chicken

Hoo Pioh Th’ng (fish maw soup)

Jiu Hu Char

Steamed Seabass in Nyonya Assam Sauce

Barley Tea

Lime Juice

Bee Koh Moy (black glutinous rice porridge topped with coconut milk)

Green House Prawn Mee Corner

One of those small super-cluttered shops catering to local and tourist Chinese, I was really unsure what to order, so I asked them to give me whatever they were famous for. I ended up with classic Hokkien prawn mee, which they served with a mix of bihun and egg noodles, rib tips and a tea egg. It was tasty and satisfying in a very basic way, but I wish I had gone for the mix with law mee. Odds I’ll ever find myself on that street and hungry seem low, but you never know!

Hokkien Prawn Mee

Auntie Gaik Lean's Old School Eatery

This restaurant has the distinction of being awarded 1 Michelin star, so not just a bib gourmand. I suspect it’s rather more due to the location and clientele (diplomats, business tycoons and visiting royalty on special occasions; local investment bankers and hoteliers and their families most days) than the food. According to the owner/chef’s son, the deciding dish for the Michelin reviewer (who I thought were supposed to maintain strict anonymity?) was the nasi ulam, the herbs for which his granny and auntie climb the mountains in the early morning or some such . . . I appreciated it in a sort of academic sense, but wouldn’t bother going back for it. The flavors of the fish curry were disappointing to me, as was the cold nutmeg juice. The pie tee were tasty but unremarkable.

I have a terrible habit of walking in without a reservation, and in SE Asia this means usually getting seated at a communal table with fellow seat-of-our-pants fliers. The evening I visited Gaik Lean’s was spent in the company of a variety of ethnically Asian (northern mainland Chinese, Japanese, native Singaporean) Singaporean bankers, who happily shared the dishes they ordered with me and provided their rather more informed perspectives on the food. I felt too awkward photographing them, but did have assam prawns and kapitan curry chicken at their behest. We all agreed: terribly anti-climactic.

Pie Tee (crispy pastry tart shell typically filled with a spicy and sweet mixture of shredded Chinese turnips, thinly sliced vegetables and prawns)

Nasi Ulam (cold rice tossed with local shredded herbs and spices)

Gulai Tumis (Tamarind Fish Curry)

Cold Nutmeg Juice

Duck Blood Curry Mee

After getting the Michelin nod, this place cheaped out and substituted cheaper, less smooth pork blood for duck blood . . . so annoying. I didn’t know what to order, so told the owner to serve me whatever they were famous for; you can be the judge of the mix photographed. Pork belly and blood gelatins are challenging foods for me, things I’m willing to give a shot because of Michelin but wouldn’t otherwise. It was tasty enough, and the giant bottle of beer didn’t hurt. I probably wouldn’t go back, but I enjoyed trying.

Duck (but actually pork) Blood Curry Mee with “everything” (clams, tofu, pork belly, radish, shrimp, some offal I don’t recognize . . . )

Joo Hooi

Probably the most famous spot in an alley of famous spots, they serve up the standards. The otak-otak here was the first bearable version of the dish I’ve ever had; I have had nauseating versions in Laos and Thailand. I don’t like it, I would never order it if it wasn’t specifically recommended by Michelin, but this is the first time I’ve even found it edible. The oysters in the omelette were the biggest of any place I’ve tried, but the dish itself was bland and greasy. This place is most famous for its char kuay teow, and it was just OK to me- satisfying, but in a sleazy fried way. The payment system is obnoxious- it’s cash only and they demand payment immediately for each individual dish or drink, so it’s a constant back and forth of cash and change with multiple waiters, horribly inconvenient. I’m glad to have tried such a famous place but would never go back.

Otak-Otak (ground fish, eggs, herbs, wrapped in a banana leaf before steaming)

Char Kuey Teow (eggs, bean sprouts, chives, shrimp, sliced fish cakes, fried with flat rice noodles)

Oyster Omelette

Ghee Lian

I have no idea how this “green tomyam” got a Michelin nod. Perhaps compared to typical Malaysian food it’s unique, but as far as Thai green tom yam soups go, this is beyond basic. I suppose it being (supposedly) fresh seafood, simple, and cheap recommends it. There’s a choice of fish, shrimp, cuttlefish, fish head and grouper, or you can get several. I went with just shrimp because I wasn’t feeling very experimental. The instant ramen noodles annoyed me more than the 25 minute wait time. I hated the outdoor hawker stall atmosphere; people feel free to smoke anywhere they please, and when it’s busy it’s difficult to escape. Also, the view of the water is really not that special. It might feel special from a pool at the E&O; it doesn’t sitting here. Wouldn’t bother again.

Durian Popiah from the stall next door

Ah Boy Koay Teow Th'ng

This food cart has been making this soup for over 30 years, and for 6 ringgit, I can’t complain, buuuuutttt . . . according to google reviews this is the best fish ball noodle soup in Malaysia. I thought it was extremely bland, the noodles didn’t impress, and mystery meat balls and bits are the kind of thing I have to steel myself for and am very rarely happily surprised by . . . and I wasn’t here. That said, I’ve had tons of noodle soups in all different countries in my years in SE Asia, and still have no idea how this place got a bib gourmand. I think this is a cultural difference about a no-frills cheap local breakfast food; if someone who just doesn’t really like salmon or dairy showed up in New York and tried an untoasted plain bagel with cream cheese, lox and capers, of course they wouldn’t like it. Oh well.

Koay Teow Th'ng

Yuzu Juice

Moh Teng Pheow Nyonya Koay

I showed up sometime after 3pm and they were no longer making food; I was able to pick out a couple readymade things from the cold case. The rice dumpling was really tasty, and when I look at other people’s pictures of the food on google maps reviews, it looks wonderful. However, I will never go here again, because the owners smoke in the restaurant, and allow patrons to smoke in the restaurant. That’s a hard pass and a 1-star-admonishment-review every time.

Bak Chang (glutinous rice, white beans, chicken, mushroom, salted egg yolk), Ang Ku (mung bean paste filled pandan-flavored glutinous rice cake), ice tea

and an honorable non-mention . . . TEKSEN

I have tried to eat here 3 or 4 times, for lunch and dinner, and there is never a line of fewer than 50 people down the street and around the block. Last time I visited, the white tourist vans packed with mainland Chinese were dropping them off in herds. Can you imagine being from mainland China and wanting to eat fucking Cantonese food when you come to Penang? Unless they pay me to eat there, absolutely not.

Thalang National Museum, Phuket | Thailand

I’d describe this museum as small but mighty. It only takes an hour to see absolutely everything. It’s empty and the employees are bored so odds are high you’ll get a private tour of at least one room. Well worth the cab fare, which was about $8 usd from Phuket town.

9th CE Vishnu from Khao Phranarai

9th CE Bhudevi from Khao Phranarai

8th-9th CE clay seals from Tham Kao Nui

8th-9th CE clay seal from Tham Kao Nui

Vegetarian Festival costume representing God Lim-Hu-Ong-Lah, worn by Mr. Chalermphol Khlong-ngam, a spirit medium at Tha Rua Shrine.