These Homemade Real-Deal Thai Drunken Noodles Are *Way* Better Than Takeout

Along with pad Thai and pad see ew, pad kee mao (drunken noodles) is one of the most popular noodle dishes at Thai restaurants in the US. Many American diners understand it to be a stir-fry of fresh rice noodles enhanced with a spicy base of Thai chiles and garlic, mixed with an assortment of vegetables, and finished with Thai sweet basil. But as a professional cook who has devoted my life and career to studying and cooking Thai food, I’m struck by the observation that pad kee mao in the States is often just an amped-up version of pad see ew. Too often, US restaurants prepare drunken noodles as if they were just tossing in a few extra chiles and aromatics to what is otherwise a wok-ful of pad see ew. That shouldn’t be.

I’ve eaten pad kee mao many times in Thailand, and the dish bore little resemblance to what’s served here in the US—with way more aromatics and tons of heat, neither of which pad see ew has. As the dish’s common epithet suggests, the dish should be fiery enough to sober up a drunk person, which, by Thai standards, is quite fiery.

Its bold aromatic profile comes from a combination of fresh Thai chiles, garlic, young green peppercorns, grachai (a rhizome also known as fingerroot or Chinese keys), and the herbal citrus notes of fresh makrut lime leaves. These aromatics are stir-fried with pork, vegetables like baby corn, long beans, and orange chiles, and finished with boatloads of holy basil–a peppery, almost clove-like herb entirely unlike Thai sweet basil’s anise notes. The versions I’ve had in Thailand felt more like a supercharged version of pad gaprao than pad see ew.

But here’s where it gets even more interesting: Pad kee mao isn’t even strictly defined by whether it has noodles or not in Thailand. You’ll absolutely find it made with noodles, just like in the US (in fact, pad kee mao made with spaghetti has become a modern adaptation in many Thai kitchens), but you’ll also find it with no noodles at all and served alongside rice instead. That isn’t to say that noodles are wrong, it’s just that there’s a lot of nuance here. Among food purists and connoisseurs in Thailand, there’s an understanding that the heart of the dish has much more to do with the intense aromatics of the dish and less to do with the starch. Still, both noodle-packed versions and not exist in Thai culinary culture, and neither is inherently “wrong.”

In my recipe below, I aimed to create a balanced hybrid, combining a smaller amount of noodles with a hefty dose of the bold, aromatic flavors of the noodle-free versions I’ve enjoyed in Thailand. Breaking the dish down into distinct categories: noodles, aromatics, protein, vegetables, sauce, and final touches helps simplify the process.

The Noodles

Pad kee mao is not defined as a noodle dish first and foremost. The amount of noodles used in the dish can range from none to a hefty amount, or sometimes even spaghetti, as mentioned above. My reduced ratio of noodles to the other ingredients is a reflection of this, and an attempt to underscore the point that it’s all those other things that really make the dish.

Beyond the amount of noodles used, the type and width of noodles selected are key. I think the recipe is best when prepared with fresh rice noodles, which might be more challenging to find if preparing here in the US, but worth the effort. Fresh rice noodles are the key to getting the right kind of noodle texture—slick, tender, and softly chewy. Only fresh noodles have that kind of pleasantly gelatinous chew. While rehydrated dried rice noodles are an acceptable substitute and still make a delicious dish, their differences are obvious, the noodles more firm and chewier. If you can, try to find sheets of fresh noodles that you can cut by hand into nice wide ribbons.

The Aromatics

Some non-negotiable ingredients for getting this dish right are grachai, Thai chiles, garlic, and makrut lime leaves. The purist in me would also insist on fresh green peppercorns, but they’re nearly impossible to find outside of brine in the US. Unlike grachai, which works beautifully even when jarred in a brine, brined green peppercorns just don’t compare to their fresh counterpart. I have yet to find a way to make brined ones pop, so please avoid using them just for the sake of tradition.

In terms of prep, the chiles and garlic are pounded into a paste, which allows them to infuse deeply into the oil. In contrast, the grachai is added in julienned strips, contributing texture to the dish without overwhelming it with its mildly medicinal flavor, as it might do if broken down into the paste.

The Protein

When making a noodle-free (or, in this case, noodle-reduced) pad kee mao, the protein takes on an even more central role. While slices of pork, as in this recipe, are common, it’s just as typical to see minced pork or crispy, fluffy catfish. Feel free to use any protein you like.

I prefer adding the protein after the aromatics have infused the oil, relying entirely on the sauce to season it. Unlike pad see ew, where I velvet the meat (a nod to the dish’s Thai-Chinese origins), with pad kee mao I lean into a more Thai-style approach and skip that step. The sauce provides plenty of seasoning to the meat without the need for the velveting step.

Call it intuition or just a deep respect for traditional techniques, but this is how I approach Thai cooking, and what I want to impart to you: the importance of understanding the essence of each dish and where it comes from. After that, of course, you can do what works best for you.

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