The Thai Beef Noodle Soup That Has Been Continuously Simmering for 52 Years

As Bangkok ris­es into the ranks of the world’s great culi­nary des­ti­na­tion cities, its restau­rant scene caters to ever more well-heeled trav­el­ers. There, you can now vis­it estab­lish­ments with not just one, and not just two, but three Miche­lin stars. Even so, many a Bangkok habitué will sure­ly tell you that the city’s best food is still served in the same hum­ble places as always, or at least whose rent has­n’t been hiked too bad­ly. Even in as hip­ster­ized an area as Ekka­mai Road, though, some have been around long enough to own their real estate. Take Wat­tana Panich, which has been serv­ing beef noo­dle soup in its own build­ing for more than 50 years — and indeed, using the same broth the whole time.

You can have a look at the process in the Great Big Sto­ry video at the top of the post. “For­ev­er soup, also known as per­pet­u­al stew or hunter’s pot, is enjoy­ing a moment as adven­tur­ous cooks and intre­pid din­ers redis­cov­er the old method in which a broth can sim­mer for weeks, months or even years,” writes Shan Li in a recent Wall Street Jour­nal arti­cle.

Third-gen­er­a­tion Wat­tana Panich own­er Nat­tapong Kawee­nunta­wong “has tend­ed the broth from morn­ing until night since gain­ing cus­tody two decades ago. By day, it bub­bles in a giant stain­less-steel pot about 5 feet across and one foot deep, encased in lava-like con­crete and heat­ed by gas. He tweaks the fla­vor by adding fresh ingre­di­ents, includ­ing fish sauce, soy sauce, chunks of beef and sachets of Chi­nese herbs.”

Per­haps you feel you can taste it already. But its reg­u­lar vis­i­tors may insist that you’ll nev­er real­ly know the fla­vor of the shop’s epony­mous broth, con­tin­u­ous­ly refined while being rolled over night after night for five decades, until you try it for your­self. The prospect may put cer­tain West­ern­ers, uncom­fort­able con­sum­ing even last night’s left­overs, ill at ease. But they should rest assured that the sol­id ingre­di­ents are always fresh. It’s just the broth itself, rig­or­ous­ly strained each night and boiled each day, that has been kept in use, tying the estab­lish­ment to its own past in the same man­ner as its inher­it­ed own­er­ship. As with any fam­i­ly busi­ness, of course, each gen­er­a­tion gets com­plete­ly dis­placed soon­er or lat­er, just as every mol­e­cule of “for­ev­er soup” at one time will, in the­o­ry, have been con­sumed by some lat­er time. Is the broth Wat­tana Panich uses today real­ly iden­ti­cal to the one it start­ed with in 1974? That’s a philo­soph­i­cal ques­tion best saved for after the meal.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Chow­da!: Three Cen­turies of Recipes Reveal the Rise of New England’s Finest Culi­nary Export

When Al Capone Opened a Soup Kitchen Dur­ing the Great Depres­sion: Anoth­er Side of the Leg­endary Mobster’s Oper­a­tion

Allen Ginsberg’s Per­son­al Recipe for Cold Sum­mer Borscht

How to Make the Old­est Recipe in the World: A Recipe for Net­tle Pud­ding Dat­ing Back 6,000 BC

The Old­est Restau­rant in the World: How Madrid’s Sobri­no de Botín Has Kept the Oven Hot Since 1725

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.