I arrived in mountainous northern Laos after interminable hours on a bus from China – cold, hungry and, thanks to an untimely downpour, thoroughly drenched. If only I knew then of khao soi Lao, but it was late afternoon and the makings of this breakfast speciality remained hidden in saucepans across town.
Early the next day, an offer to join some men for breakfast at Luang Namtha’s morning market introduced me to this dish I thought I knew.
I was familiar with the khao soi of northern Thailand – with its curry-like coconut broth, chicken and egg noodles – and so when I heard the name, I assumed that’s what I’d be getting.
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Chicken noodle curry (khao soi)
It turns out that they have almost nothing in common, besides both being noodle soups.
The woman whose stall we sat at threw some freshly cooked rice noodles into our bowls and then spooned over a rich meat sauce resembling bolognese – minced pork that had been cooked down with fermented bean paste, spices, aromatics and tomato, until thick and moreish. She ladled in clear chicken broth, scattered over chopped spring onion, coriander and crispy pork rind, and placed the bowl before me with a plate of fresh herbs and greens.
“Do you know how to cook?” the man beside me asked, gesturing towards the condiments.
He took control of my bowl, adding sugar, a dash of fish sauce, a little chilli, vinegar, Maggi seasoning, lime juice, pepper, and a large pinch of MSG. He sampled the broth, satisfied with the balance of sweet, salty, sour and spicy, then added some of the greens.
Picking up a whole tiny chilli from a bowl full of them, he indicated how to dip it into a jar of shrimp paste and take a bite, alternating mouthfuls of chilli with the soup.
As far as breakfasts go, this one is hard to beat. The crunch and bitterness of the greens beautifully complement that incredibly rich pork ragu that clings to the slippery noodles and flavours the broth. It reminds me of the Shan I chased all over Burma, and also leftover spag bol on toast.
I almost missed my ride out of town the next day for one last fix. Once reunited with an internet connection, I madly searched for more information about this dish that had come to consume my every thought.
reports a similar hallelujah moment in the same Luang Namtha market some six years back. What struck me was the fact that khao soi Lao also came as a surprise to its writer Robyn Eckhardt, who lives in South-East Asia and has an encyclopaedic knowledge of its food.
– another Asian-based food blog – stumbles across it a few years later, equally as unfamiliar and besotted with the dish.
include it in a round up of Lao noodle soups, and try to establish the connection between these two completely different dishes with the same name. They raise various theories: khao soi means cut rice, and while the northern Thai version no longer uses rice noodles, it may once have. Another suggests that both dishes simply borrow the Burmese name for noodles, khaut swe.
I also manage to find a restaurant back home in Sydney that serves the dish: in Marrickville.
Jack Sigma explains that the khao soi they serve at Papaya Grill is his mum’s recipe, which is a Luang Prabang version.
“It’s a bit different between each province in Laos, but it’s the same type of broth and concept,” he says. Jack hasn’t tried the Thai dish of the same name, but on hearing its ingredients, is surprised – “that’s totally different!”
“Obviously we share ingredients and similarities, and with Lao cuisine we have to educate our customers, we try to show them how it’s different from Thai cuisine,” he says.
Khao soi isn’t just a breakfast food here. “In Laos it’s sold out by 11am, but we keep it on our menu all day round,” says Jack.
I know what I’ll be having for dinner tonight.
