Over 2,400 kilometres. That’s the length of the border between Thailand and Myanmar, one of the longest in the world. It’s a border that has seen war, migration and trade – in other words, all the things that facilitate the transmission of cuisine. Here’s another number – two million. That’s how many Myanmar nationals are estimated to be living in Thailand by the United Nations. So then one has to ask, why are there so few Burmese restaurants in Bangkok?
While Burmese food stalls could often be found in fresh markets frequented by Burmese workers – Talat Phra Khanong in particular – this was very much food for the community. You know about it or you don’t. Migrant workers have rather more immediate priorities than cultural exchange.
But change is in the air. As Myanmar’s political situation continues to deteriorate – a complex issue beyond the scope of this discussion – an increasing number of Burmese individuals with disposable incomes are relocating to or investing in Bangkok. Today, Burmese buyers rank second only to the Chinese in foreign condo purchases in the city. And with that increased Burmese capital, restaurants have been both a popular investment and a place to reconnect with the flavours of the homeland. After all, in a city as gastronomic as Bangkok, the secret can’t be kept long. Food nerds have long sang the praises of the excellent, working-class fare at Phetchaburi Road’s Mandalay Food House, as well as the modern interpretations served alongside craft cocktails at Thong Lor’s Rangoon Tea House, to say nothing of the proliferation of lahpet thoke, the country’s iconic tea-leaf salad, at the city’s vegan and health-conscious restaurants.
But food from the Shan State, a hilly region wedged between Thailand and China’s Yunnan Province with something of a Wild West reputation, remains largely unknown. The ingredients are similar, the languages are similar, hell, the Shan were even historically known as the Thai Yai in Thailand. Yet the cuisine is unique. Khao soi in Chiang Mai might be descended from khao shwe in the Shan State, but they are emphatically not the same.
Enter Namsu (‘vinegar’ in Shan), the new Shan restaurant in Chinatown’s Ban Trok Tua Ngork. Helmed by internationally trained Shan chef Honey Zeyang, flavours aspire to authenticity, but the presentation is – like so many new openings in Bangkok – izakaya-style, complete with an extensive sake list.
This is not a cuisine for the faint of heart. Expect deep bass-note umami, assertive acidity, mouth-numbing makhwaen pepper, and organ meats aplenty. But if you’re the sort of person who goes to Chiang Mai and doesn’t care about the sai ua half as much as the brains and the blood and the bile, Namsu will absolutely be your jam.
One of their bestsellers so far, the sour brain pate, could act as the keynote for the meal as a whole – grilled pork brains are presented as a creamy dip, with plenty of vinegar to counterbalance the richness, and in a modern touch, served alongside sourdough bread. Or the sa khom beef platter, in which an assortment of beef off-cuts and innards are dipped in a bile-based sauce, which is a must-try for anyone who loves the clean, sharp bitterness of Isan-style soi ju. Or for something more accessible, try chicken in trouble, a traditional Shan technique in which chicken wings are stuffed with sticky rice, wrapped up in bamboo strings and deep-fried – which is as crowd-pleasing as it sounds. Likewise, Shan onigiri is a decidedly local dish that echoes a Japanese classic, in which a flavorful rice ball is grilled and served along a beautifully smoky, fermented soup.
(And yes, there’s a tea-leaf salad, if you’re so inclined.)
For drinks, sake is the move and while it might seem a bit unusual, it really is a natural pairing – umami meets umami, fermented meets fermented and the Shan have a long tradition of their own indigenous rice wines. The house sparkling sake is textured enough to match the food and there’s a long and diverse list of sake from around Japan.
While it might not be everyone’s date-night choice, comfy Shan fabrics and neon aside, Namsu is offering something unique in a saturated food scene. And let’s face it, if your date is excited about sour brain pate, they’re a keeper.
314 Santiphap Rd, Pom Prap, Pom Prap Sattru Phai. 097-109-4699. Open Tue-Sun 5pm-11pm. Closed Mon