While Isaan abounds, northern food is hard to come by in the capital. Several years ago, Khingklao was one of our favorite places to enjoy the cuisine, and we still have fond memories of kantokes laden with delicious goodies, hearty khao soy and frosty bottles of Singha. Since then the restaurant has changed ownership at least once, and the menu has been expanded to include food from all four corners of this culinarily blessed Kingdom. This seems to have been done for the sake of unadventurous tourists, who have yet to be weaned off chicken in green curry and pad thai. Khingklao was never a particularly stylish place, but now the cozy shophouse-wide eatery seems tired, a study in stereotypical and slightly tacky exoticism. Classical Thai music plays softly in the background; handspun fabrics hang on lumpy rustic yellow walls; and a tall glass cabinet is packed with khon masks, benjarong and amulets over which floats a golden headpiece. Inside the menu are bright photographs of the dishes in plastic sleeves. In addition to the numerous “no, heve” (sic) stickers, the food is also labeled by region, making it easier to limit our choices to traditional northern items. Unfortunately, the quality of the northern food isn’t what it was when it was the sole focus. For example, avoid their version of the quintessential northern dish, khao soy (B120), which was unforgivably runny, bland, lukewarm and served in a bowl that looked like the kind of thing you’d receive free at a gas station when you fill your tank. Slightly better is the khantoke set (B230), a bouquet of flavors and textures with fried pork rind, a choice of nam prik (ong or num), three different kinds of sausage (pink naem, grilled sai ua and fried muu yaw), and various fresh, crispy vegetables. It was a respectable effort, but the naam prik noom wasn’t spicy enough and had as much raw garlic as green chilies, and the sausages could have been fresher. Another fun dish to share is the wrap-it-yourself miang kham (B120). The bai chapluu (wild tea leaves) are served on ice, alongside an array of small chopped up delights (lemongrass, galangal, onions and chili); instead of dry meat, the northern version here contains nam prik ong, so there’s no need to add tamarind or any other sauce. The yum hua plee (banana blossoms with pork and shrimp salad, B120) also came fresh, with the crisp bitterness from the banana blossoms interacting very successfully with the meat. Overall, except for the sorry khao soy, it was an OK meal, and we might return the next time we’re craving northern food. But we’ll have to be really craving it.