If the gods of gastronomy were to throw a dinner party, I’m fairly sure the Thai kitchen would be responsible for the menu—a fever dream of lime leaves, chili heat, fermented funk, and coconut calm. Eating in Thailand isn’t just a way to refuel. It’s a full-contact sport, a ritual, a social glue, and occasionally a dare.

I woke to the sound of Kong’s voice outside my window. Kong is my neighbor and one of the few people in the village who speaks a bit of English. He’s also taken it upon himself to be my unofficial cultural translator. (You’ll hear more about him. Think of him as my spiritual guide through mud and chili sauce.)