The Politics of Lanna Identity and the Restoration of Ethnic Thai Dishes

The Thai state has historically employed specific ethnic groups to represent regional identities and control cultural narratives. This strategy is particularly evident in the promotion of tai yuan cuisine in the context of northern Thai food. However, minority groups in northern Thailand have recently begun showcasing their diverse culinary traditions to locals and tourists in defiance of the central government.

Since the 1940s, a process known as “Thai-isation” has sought to integrate and assimilate regional cultures to foster national unity. The Lanna region, now part of northern Thailand, has been marketed as a destination with a culture considered both exotic and assimilable. This is done primarily through the representation of the tai yuan people.

Despite a variety of ethnic groups in both the lowland and mountainous areas, the tai yuan dominate the cultural narrative due to their perceived compatibility with traditional Siamese culture. Other ethnic groups such as the Karen or Hmong, which are perceived to be too different or potential communist threats to national security, often face marginalisation. This view is rooted in Cold War-era “internal colonisation” and Chiang Mai-centric development, where the Thai state positioned Chiang Mai and tai yuan culture as representative of Lanna identity. As Chiang Mai grew into the economic centre of the north, the tai yuan identity was further consolidated as the “authentic” face of Lanna culture. 

Though the Lanna region was selected as the “chosen” culture, its people and cuisine were not always viewed kindly. Before this, the Lanna people were depicted in Siamese literature and travel writings as barbaric because they ate wild animals. Documentaries and travel magazines often showed a medium eating raw buffalo in spiritual ceremonies. Such portrayals reinforce a “civilised” Siamese and “exotic” Lanna dichotomy that persists in some forms today.

However, the image of Lanna food changed due to gastronomic tourism. Khan Tok Dinner, which is analogous to China’s dim sum and Korea’s banchan, is a commodified tradition derived from a private 1953 gathering. It subsequently became a tourist attraction in the 1960s. The Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT) and the private sector, such as hotels and restaurants, adopted the novel idea. The dinner made Chiang Mai’s food well-known, but it also standardised a few tai yuan dishes to represent Lanna food.

The dinner is framed as authentic but critics counter that it exemplifies “staged authenticity” — a culture commodified to serve tourists. State-driven representation of Lanna food aligns with broader efforts to streamline regional diversity into a monolithic national image. This illustrates how economic and cultural forces construct “authentic” identities that are anything but.

Hence, the Khan Tok Dinner is less popular among the younger generation, with alternative dishes like laab (spicy minced meat) gaining more attention. Usually served raw, the dish represents a more subaltern, grassroots expression of food culture, resisting the sanitised version of Lanna cuisine promoted for tourism.

State-driven representation of Lanna food aligns with broader efforts to streamline regional diversity into a monolithic national image. This illustrates how economic and cultural forces construct ‘authentic’ identities that are anything but.

Another popular dish is khao soi, which Taste Atlas voted the best noodle dish in 2023. Khao soi then became the favourite dish of international tourists. Its rise exemplifies the unpredictability of food globalisation. These phenomena suggest that foodies and tourists seek authenticity beyond commodified culture.

The authenticity trend aligns with organic movements favouring local ingredients and supporting ethnic communities. Several organic farmer markets are gaining popularity in Chiang Mai. Public interest in authentic Lanna food is also rising. In December 2024, the Thailand Creative and Design Centre (TCDC) held an exhibition, “Taste Trail Lanna”, which offers in-depth knowledge about Lanna food and ingredients. While this signals a shift, state institutions and market forces continue to influence the emergence of “authentic” Lanna cuisine in ways that prioritise national tourism goals while selectively incorporating marginalised ethnic cuisines into the mainstream. In short, these organic movements are not free from state co-optation.

However, “The Lost Recipe”, a campaign organised by renowned Chiang Mai food blogger “Go to Ask Anne”, stresses restoring ethnic food and cultural diversity. This makes it a modern representation of Lanna identity and a site of political and cultural negotiation. It suggests how people from other ethnic groups in Chiang Mai have started to embrace cultural diversity rather than assimilate standardised Lanna cuisine.

It focuses on four ethnic communities — chiang saen, tai khoen, meng, and pa-o — and reintroduces forgotten dishes and the histories of these ethnic groups. It challenges the dominant tai yuan-centric narrative and repositions multi-ethnic food as integral to the Lanna identity. Some rediscovered dishes, like the chiang saen hanglay (pork curry), differ from the Burmese-inspired hanglay curry eaten by the tai yuan.

However, this project’s success depends on institutional support and market incentives. It collaborates with institutions like the Chiang Mai University and the Old Chiang Mai Cultural Centre. In January 2025, it organised the second Chiang Mai Food Festival, which was supported by TAT’s Amazing Thailand campaign. The festival hosted international and ethnic food stalls alongside workshops and seminars. In this case, TAT, being a central government entity, did not see the “Go To Ask Anne” campaign as a threat to the state’s conception of commoditised culture; it supported the festival because it added diversity to the country’s tourism.

With the flourishing of an assortment of ethnic food, Thailand is no longer controlled by just one cultural narrative. People have savoured the taste of delicious diversity, and they are not going back. The resurgence of ethnic cuisines demonstrates how food is not just a matter of taste but also reflects broader struggles over cultural legitimacy, economic interests, and political identity. From a wider perspective, the restoration of ethnic dishes reflects Lanna power and identity struggles in contemporary society. The success of this movement depends on the Thai authorities, who should support grassroots movements, encourage diversity, and reduce top-down control over gastronomic narratives.

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