As you can probably tell from my other posts about food tours in Kuala Lumpur and Bogotà, the *only* food tour company that I will go with is A Chef’s Tour.
Every single time I go out with them, I’m reminded why I love exploring cities through food. I always end up trying things I’d never have spotted (or had the courage to order) on my own, chatting with the vendors, and learning about how food ties into everyday life here.
What I appreciate most, though, is how personal their tours feel. It never feels rushed or touristy; more like being welcomed into someone’s community for the day. And somehow, they always manage to adapt around my awkward food intolerances without making it a big deal (which, if you’ve ever travelled with dietary restrictions, you’ll know is basically a miracle).
Another huge thank you to A Chef’s Tour for yet another food-filled, heartwarming day out — I already can’t wait for the next one. <3
Editor’s note from a year later: Okay okay, I’ll admit it, I went on A Chef’s Tour’s Old Siam: Hidden Market Street Eats twice. And I’d do it again (maybe for a third, who’s counting?).
The morning begins with a gentle boat ride on the klong canals ” to an old district…rooted in tradition, community and food”. Locals on the shore were already starting their day, and as the warmth of the morning air hit my face I knew this was going to be iconic.
When we disembarked, we were in the historic Nang Loeng neighbourhood. This market (officially opened in 1900) felt like stepping into an entirely different era. This is real Bangkok: not the neon-night market hype, but a market where hawkers shout orders to their grandparents in the back, and family recipes live on.
Many of these stalls are run by the same Chinese-Thai families for generations; one famed roasted-duck shop we passed still glistened under a vintage sign, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much could possibly have changed in all that time. After all, I tried the absolutely most incredible tom yum dish that I’ve ever had (my mouth is watering thinking about it), and I was told that the recipe has remained unchanged for a long time.
Eating in Nang Loeng is a full-body experience, to be completely frank.
At my side, my fellow foodies and I tasted dish after dish, often curbside or on little stools. It felt so real. And honestly, the places we ate at were probably not the usual places I’d find for myself – it was pretty rare to glimpse another tourist.
I don’t want to give away too much about our stops, but one of the most interesting was the stall where we tried miang kham: little Betel leaf packets filled with toasted coconut, peanuts, lime and shallots. These were absolutely filled to the brim with Thai flavour: the tang of lime, the kick of chilli, the mellow richness of peanut all popped in my mouth at once.
I took my first bus in Thailand, and then my first tuktuk (incredible), and we ate so many dishes I realised I definitely should have paced myself in the beginning.
Edit: Our tour guide on the second trip was called Johnny and he was the nicest, funniest, and most informative guide – as we ate and he told stories, everything just felt a tad more alive.
Just when we thought we were done, came the sweets. First, the classic khanom tuay – steamed coconut-palm pudding in tiny ceramic bowls. I spooned up the wobbly, milky custard and closed my eyes; it was refreshingly mild after all that spice. Alongside other Thai sweet delicacies (perhaps my new favourite cuisine?), we tried tea from the loveliest lady, Tuk – I told her about my tea book and she actually gave me a cup of Thai milk tea on the house. Legend.
By the end of the tour, I had loosened my belt twice. But more than the food itself, the tour left me with memories of generosity: the family recipes, the warm smiles, and the feeling of being a (very clumsy) guest at someone else’s kitchen.
For me, the Old Siam tour wasn’t just about dodging the tourist traps or tasting exotic dishes (though it did that in spades); it was about connecting. Each sticky rice dumpling or sweet custard had a story or a grandmother behind it. I can only hope that on my next trip, I’ll manage not to spill my soup on myself… but at least I’ll have another market to explore and even more delicious stories to bring back home.
