For years, I have been dining on pork laap (it finally happened, I am spelling it differently now, because I’m seeing it more on menus and this is the only way to get me to change anything) made by Chef Surat at his wildly popular eatery Laap Ton Koi in Chiang Mai and not realizing it. It is merely a hop, skip and jump away from my parents’ house, so it is our “local”, for lack of a better word. I only realized that our local was considered the best Northern Thai-style laap in the country after watching a documentary on laap which features Chef Rat prominently, turning a plateful of raw buffalo leap upside-down to show its awesome stickiness and gooeyness (these are good traits for raw Northern Thai laap). In that same documentary, Chef Black Bulsuwan of Blackitch Artisan Kitchen tells us that the buffalos that we are dining on — entirely free-range, free of industrial hormones and chemicals — subsist on the very greens on the table that accompany our laap. In essence, a plate of laap and its accompanying greens are a “snapshot” of the health of the local forest, something that still blows my mind to this very day. You want farm to table? We can do better. How about jungle to table?
There is a certain breed of “Thai food bro” that is quick to point out and make fun of people who confuse aspects of Thai cuisine; mistaking Northern Thai-style laap and the Isan-style one is an error that is common. I am not here to do that. Indeed, there are some similarities between the laap of the Northeast and the laap of the North. They are both wildly economical and inventive, utilizing every part of the animal that they can. They demonstrate the prowess of the chef, who is responsible not only for making the laap delicious, but of butchering the animal himself. They both require a lot of heavy chopping and knife work which is tiring and strenuous. And because it requires a lot of butchering and chopping, many laap chefs are men, and the women work on the side dishes. Both are always eaten with sticky rice and a good plate of fresh greens.
Most importantly, to eat laap means that you are celebrating. It’s a time for feasting, for having fun, for getting together with your friends and family and maybe having a glass of moonshine or two. There’s a reason why all laap places, both in the North and Northeast, serve Saeng Som. Laap is an excuse for a party, even if it’s 11 in the morning.
The similarities between the two regional styles end there, however. The Isan style is bright and lighter, with bits of mint and nuttiness from roasted ground rice kernels. It can also be made up in minutes. The Northern Thai one, alas, requires more chopping (a mousse-like mince is ideal) and incorporates a lot more ingredients, including a spice mix that differs from chef to chef and is frequently (but not in Chef Rat’s case) a closely-guarded secret. This makes the laap darker (there’s also the requisite splashes of blood and the addition of innards) and more ponderous, some would even say more bitter. Some diners, not so bloodthirsty as the typical Northerner, might ask for the intestines, tripe, and other bits to be left out, but that is akin to asking the same thing of your typical hotdog sausage. In other words, it would be impossible.
Having partaken of Chef Rat’s artistry at home, my dad and I were eager to finally try it in person. We were wary of reports that people would line up for as long as three hours, but a little after 11, we found a table easily and settled in. Then we realized why people vied to be the first diners there.
Chef Rat makes every order a la minute and according to the order in which tables’ slips come in. That means the earlier you are, the quicker you get your food. It’s a system similar to what I remember Jay Fai doing (I can no longer get a table there so don’t know if that has changed), which causes a lot of consternation and envy from people who pay attention to that sort of thing (who am I kidding, that is me when I am hungry). Dining at Laap Ton Koi requires patience — not in line, but at the table.
Which makes the fried pork at the beverage vendor next door so integral to the laap experience. I don’t know which genius thought of it first, but there is nothing better than a nice 50THB plate of fried fatty pork to tide you over while you are waiting an hour for your order to arrive. It’s even better when you order two. This is the biggest tip I can give you for the dining-in experience at Laap Ton Koi.
Another tip I can give is to order two of everything. Portions are small-ish, so you can basically budget for one plate per person. The Northern Thai-style gang om that Chef Rat’s wife makes also warrants ordering two of; it is absolutely delicious and a paragon of its type.
If you are able to make it through the hour, it’s worth it. Pork laap takes longer than the buffalo version, but both go really well with the pickled makhwaen (Northern Thai peppercorns) at every table. I have to admit I became enamored with this and ate maybe half of the jar.
Yet another tip: Chef Rat’s own spice mix — makhwaen, star anise, lemongrass, galangal, cloves, small guinea peppers, long Indian peppers, nutmeg, cumin and coriander seeds — not only goes well with his own food, but with the fried pork from the beverage vendor. Trust me.
And finally, try the greens. They all do different things: the wrinkly ones make the laap sweeter; the tree-like sweet leaves tone down the spice; the pennywort-like ones amplify the flavor; the pak pai (soapy Vietnamese ones) make the flavor brighter. It’s really fun going through all the different ways these leaves affect your tastebuds, and also fun to imagine yourself as a buffalo (going through all the different ways these leaves affect your tastebuds).
All in all, the two of us had two laaps, two gang oms, two fried porks, and three (!) sticky rice orders, and considered ourselves well-fed for the kingly sum of 140 THB (not counting beverages and the fried pork). And here is where I leave you with maybe my best tip of all: at 12:30, the first rush is mostly gone and the second one is free to take their seats, so if you are not an early riser, this might be your preferred time slot to eat (like) a buffalo.
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