From a half-century-old soup to mind-blowing fried chicken, here’s where to eat in the Thai capital.
Gastro Obscura’s 11 Essential Places to Eat and Drink in Bangkok

Tucked down a leafy Sukhumvit side street, Rung Rueang has been ladling out steaming bowls of tom yum pork noodles since 1965. After the original proprietor passed away, a family feud split the restaurant in two. Both factions continue to serve the same time-honored recipe under the same name, but the “left-side” shop is widely considered the better of the two.

There’s a picture menu for the uninitiated, though most regulars know exactly what they’re here for. Rung Rueang’s tom yum soup with generous clusters of soft minced pork is bright, sour, spicy, and a touch of sweet, perfectly balancing hints of lemongrass, makrut lime, and chile to punch through the tropical heat.

Customization is part of the ritual: choose your bowl size, noodle type (from flat sen yai rice noodles to bouncy ba mee egg noodles), and toppings. Minced pork comes standard, but you can opt for slices of pork, pork balls, fish cake, or go all in with a mix that includes crispy fried fish skin and pork entrails. Then, select your soup base: the classic tom yum, the rich pork broth, or a “dry” version in which the tom yum flavors are reduced to a slick, punchy sauce coating the noodles. Once served, tweak your bowl with ground peanuts for crunch, sugar to temper the heat, or a dusting of chile flakes to kick it back up.

For all its culinary diversity, Bangkok’s restaurant scene boasts surprisingly little northern Thai food. That’s what makes Gedhawa, hidden behind a tangle of greenery in a quiet corner of the Phrom Phong district, such a standout. For almost three decades, this unfussy, home-style spot has been championing the bold flavors of Thailand’s northern provinces through recipes brought over by its Chiang Mai-born owner.

On the menu, hand-written on cardboard and fixed with glued-on photographs of each dish, you’ll find a wide range of northern staples such as khao soi (a spicy, coconutty curry soup with egg noodles) and “Lanna hors d’oeuvre” platters of northern Thai sai oua sausage, crispy pork cracklings, and blanched vegetables served with pounded nam prik ong and nam prik num chile dips. Purists might quibble that some flavors have been muted for Bangkok palates, but Gedhawa’s charm lies in its warmth and offbeat character. With its friendly service and affordable prices, this low-key institution offers one of the city’s most soulful northern Thai meals.

The first thing you notice at Wattana Panich isn’t the menu, it’s the cauldron. Right at the entrance, a blackened pot of soup, large enough to bathe in, has been simmering almost nonstop for more than 50 years. Chunks of beef bob between spice sachets bulging with coriander root, cinnamon, and a dozen Chinese herbs, and, occasionally, a bubble pops and breaks the oil-slicked surface. The result of this perpetual stew is a beef soup so rich and deeply aromatic it has gained a cult status in Bangkok’s food scene.

If the pot doesn’t catch your attention, the scent certainly will. Aromas of star anise, cinnamon, and long-stewed beef waft down the sidewalk near the restaurant’s perch in the Ekkamai district. Inside, the vibe is old-school, with tiled walls, faded news clippings, and fluorescent lights flickering overhead.

The Thai- and Chinese-language menu above the kitchen lists a dozen varieties of rice dishes and stir-fried noodles, but it’s the beef noodles that steal the show. Each bowl is built to your liking, with thin or wide rice noodles, lean cuts of beef, tender brisket, and perfectly bouncy meatballs. The soup is impossibly velvety and layered with herbaceous, umami-punched complexity, which many regulars amp up with a dash of vinegar or a spoonful of chile flakes.

Thailand’s sticky tropical heat calls for near-constant refreshments, and few are as popular as cha yen (cold tea). Brewed with robust black tea, laced with sugar, a generous glug of sweetened condensed milk, and poured over crushed ice, this orange-tinted drink has long been a roadside staple. But it’s ChaTraMue, founded by a Chinese tea trader in Bangkok’s Chinatown, that turned the icy beverage into a global icon.

The brand started as an importer of Chinese tea in the 1920s, but quickly realized that the local market had little appetite for hot brews. In 1945, the company began sourcing Thai tea leaves from the tea-growing highlands of Chiang Rai in Thailand’s north, which worked well in the refreshing iced drink that soon became its signature product. Today, ChaTraMue has a branch in almost every Thai mall (plus more than 50 outposts around the globe), but remains family owned and fiercely proud of its heritage.

From northern Thai fine diners to hip bistros matching their pet-nats with Isan-inspired bites, Bangkok’s dining scene has spent the past few years reveling in regional Thai recipes. But at one of his latest restaurants, Australian chef David Thompson, who during his tenure at Bangkok’s legendary Nahm restaurant earned the world’s first Michelin star for Thai cuisine, has taken a boldly different approach.

At Aksorn, on the dimly lit top floor of a concept store and gallery space along Charoenkrung Road, he cooks his way through time, drawing on recipes from a vast collection of mid-20th-century Thai cookbooks and culinary magazines, an era in which Western influences slowly began seeping into Thai kitchens.

From the room-spanning open kitchen, Thompson and his team serve up multi-course menus that could include everything from ma auan appetizers with steamed pork and prawn mousse to fiery curries and yum (salads) made with hard-to-find ingredients such as makok hog plum and grathin river tamarind. Most dishes arrive samrub-style—all at once with steamed rice, meant for sharing—served on vintage crockery with mismatched cutlery.

You’d be hard-pressed to find a restaurant less atmospheric than Gai Tord Jae Kee (more commonly referred to as Soi Polo Fried Chicken), a stone’s throw west of central Bangkok’s Lumpini Park. With walls bedecked in glossy granite, stainless steel furniture, and fluorescent lighting that makes a suburban tax office look cozy in comparison, this is hardly the place for a date-night dinner.

But take one bite of its eponymous signature, the fried chicken, and you’ll understand why hungry Bangkokians have flocked here for generations. Jae Kee’s birds are marinated and deep-fried whole in a slow, time-honored process that renders out nearly all the fat. Once the skin turns shatteringly crisp and the meat moist and fall-apart tender, the chicken is cleaved into rough-hewn pieces and buried under an avalanche of crispy fried garlic.

This shophouse restaurant just off Chinatown’s neon-glowing main drag has been honing the art of the perfect hoi tod, or oyster omelette, for more than three decades. Made from plump, briny bivalves, eggs, and a pancake-like batter thickened with rice flour for extra chew, Nai Mong’s star dish is much crispier and lighter than the oil-soaked versions you’ll often find elsewhere.

The restaurant’s tiny size means you have front-row views over the open kitchen, and watching the team prepare your order is half the fun. It’s a meticulously orchestrated dance of flames and charcoal smoke, high-speed stirring and batter sizzling in the cast-iron skillet. Eggs are added for richness, and only after a lacy, golden crust has formed, the fresh oysters or mussels are folded in for just a few seconds of heat. The final flourish is a scatter of spring onions, a bed of bean sprouts, and a dusting of pepper, resulting in a punchy, crunchy, and wonderfully greasy snack.

Hidden down a dark alley just off Charoenkrung Road, Charmgang is one of those word-of-mouth spots that clued-in Bangkokians swear by. Since opening in 2019, this neon-lit curry joint has earned a devoted following for its unapologetically bold takes on traditional Thai stir-fries and curries, which range from southern-style classics to aromatic northeastern numbers.

From the open kitchen, chefs Aruss Lerlerstkull and Atcharaporn Kiatthanawat send out spice-forward plates that play with regional traditions and hard-to-find ingredients. Think fiery yellow curry rich with plump river prawns and young mangosteen, or a red curry with dry-aged duck, salak snake fruit, and Thai olive leaves. Stir-fried tiger prawns with sataw stink beans and punchy shrimp paste nod to Lerlerstkull’s southern Thai heritage, while off-kilter creations such as scallops on khanom krok coconut pancakes show off his playful approach to cooking. Do leave room for dessert: The fresh takes on traditional sweets, such as khanom kho rice dumplings in sweetened coconut milk, will always hit the spot.

Nai Ek Roll Noodle began life as a humble street stall more than 60 years ago and has since grown into a Chinatown institution, serving quick and consistently excellent food to a steady stream of locals and in-the-know tourists. Orders are taken with assembly-line efficiency via a picture menu: just choose the size of your bowl and the meaty add-ons you want. Must-haves include the crackling shards of perfectly crispy pork belly and chunks of minced pork, while more adventurous eaters can level up with slivers of braised liver, kidney, stomach, or tongue.

Aside from the signature guay jab, a peppery, pork-laden broth with slightly chewy rolled rice flour noodles, which Nai Ek serves topped with fried garlic and coriander, don’t overlook the kitchen’s other standout dishes. There are double-boiled soups made with duck and winter melon or pork spare ribs and Chinese herbs, and rice plates with braised pork rump or a more generous serving of those ultra-addictive cuts of roasted-to-a-crisp pork belly.

In Thailand, ya dong is the kind of drink you usually sip out of a plastic shot glass on a clandestine street corner, a throat-scorching, herb-infused rice moonshine sold from back-alley stalls and makeshift bar carts. Traditionally steeped with roots, barks, and medicinal herbs said to calm the nerves or boost performance between the sheets (depending on the mix), it’s long been considered the drink of choice for tuk-tuk drivers and late-night gamblers.

Tep Bar, hidden down a side alley of Chinatown’s hip Soi Nana bar enclave, gives ya dong a far more elegant stage. Housed in a restored shophouse with moody lighting and traditional Thai gold décor, the bar is best known for its artisanal takes on the moonshine. Instead of the usual cloudy jars and dubious provenance, Tep’s infusions are house-made and blended into clever cocktails, or served straight in tasting flights with tongue-in-cheek names such as Pussy Whipped, Seven Eleven, and Lion King.

Few desserts are as universally beloved as khao niao mamuang, better known as mango sticky rice. The recipe is deceptively simple: glutinous rice is simmered with coconut milk, sugar, and a pinch of salt until just al dente. It’s then plated with thick slices of sweet mango, drizzled with a lightly salted coconut cream, and finished with a sprinkle of crunchy roasted mung beans.

Kor Panich, which has been perfecting the classic version for nearly a century, remains the gold standard for those in the know. Operating out of a 19th-century shophouse in Bangkok’s historic Phra Nakhon district, the family run business traces its roots to Thailand’s royal kitchens. Every component is still made from scratch and sourced with obsessive care. The glutinous rice comes from the highlands of Chiang Rai and the coconuts are from the southern province of Chumphon. The fragrant and sweet nam dok mai mangoes practically melt off the pit.