By 5.30 in the morning, the Trok Mor alley in Old Bangkok is already awake.
Metal shutters rattle open one by one. A woman arranges bundles of holy basil and Chinese celery beneath a bare light bulb while another vendor lays out bitter beans and kitchen herbs on a wooden table. Deeper inside the lane, a cleaver lands against a chopping block, followed by a mouthwatering piece of roasted red pork. Steam curls from a pot of fish maw soup as office workers, monks with alms bowls and elderly neighbours begin weaving past one another with quiet familiarity.
There is little conversation. Nobody seems to hesitate. Each customer walks directly towards a favourite stall before heading out with breakfast or a bag of curry swinging from one hand.
Around the corner, the Giant Swing still stands almost empty, waiting for the day’s first visitors.
Few of them realise that behind one of Bangkok's best-known landmarks lies a narrow market alley where the city has already finished breakfast.
This is Trok Mor alley.
By 5.30 in the morning, the Trok Mor alley in Old Bangkok is already awake.
Unlike Bangkok's celebrated food districts like Chinatown or Songwat, Trok Mor was never designed to attract visitors. It exists because another market disappeared.
For decades, the old Sao Chingcha Market served the communities surrounding Wat Suthat and Bamrung Muang Road. But during the 1970s, redevelopment of the civic district—including the construction of the Bangkok Metropolitan Administration headquarters—forced traders to relocate. Many moved into this modest alley a short walk away. The new market inherited not only the vendors, but also their customers, recipes and routines.
More than half a century later, Trok Mor remains remarkably unchanged.
It is still where residents buy vegetables before work, where restaurant cooks collect herbs before sunrise, and where families stop for breakfast on the way to school. The alley survives not because it has become fashionable, but because it continues to serve a purpose.
That may explain why the market feels so different from Bangkok's better-known street-food destinations.
Trok Mor alley is lined with small family-run stalls, each specialising in a single dish perfected over decades. Charcoal-fired char siu glistens beneath caramelisd edges, while honey-roasted duck is chopped to order and served with soft steamed mantou. Nearby, sweet fried pork accompanies fragrant taro rice prepared to an old recipe, and Hakka-style stuffed tofu is made fresh by hand. One of the market’s most distinctive dishes combines tender chicken with steamed rice, crispy rice noodles and egg noodles in the same bowl—a hearty breakfast locals affectionately call the “Three Musketeers”.
There are no queues built around social media fame. No oversized signboards promising "the best pad Thai in Thailand". Few pause to photograph their breakfast. People come because they have been coming for years.
Even the alley’s name carries a memory of an older Bangkok.
For many Bangkok residents, Trok Mor is where the day begins, with familiar breakfasts from trusted neighbourhood vendors. Photo://Trok Mor market
Long before food stalls occupied the lane, this was known as Trok Mor—Pottery Alley—named after workshops that produced earthenware cooking pots and household vessels during the early Rattanakosin period. The potters are long gone, yet the name survives, quietly reminding visitors that cities often remember occupations long after the people themselves have disappeared.
Today, instead of clay pots, the alley displays another kind of craftsmanship.
Roast ducks hang beneath brass hooks, their lacquered skin catching the morning light. Fresh coconut cream is spooned into plastic bags beside trays of handmade desserts. Curry vendors arrange dozens of stainless-steel pots in neat rows, each one revealing a different colour and aroma—deep green coconut curry, fiery southern yellow curry, slow-simmered pork stews and fragrant stir-fries prepared only hours earlier.
The market offers almost everything needed for a Thai breakfast table.
Yet food alone does not explain the atmosphere.
Spend an hour here and another pattern begins to emerge.
The woman buying curry does not ask what is inside the pot. She already knows.
The roast pork vendor slices lean meat for one customer without being asked, adding extra crackling for another who has clearly ordered the same breakfast many times before.
Neighbour greets neighbour.
Vendors call customers by name.
A restaurant cook rushes through the alley collecting ingredients from half a dozen stalls before disappearing into the old quarter to prepare lunch.
These small exchanges happen hundreds of times each morning, almost unnoticed.
In Trok Mor, street food is woven into everyday life, where locals return to the same stalls year after year for breakfasts they know by heart.
Many of Bangkok's most famous food streets come alive after sunset. Trok Mor, however, reaches its busiest hours shortly after dawn. By eight o'clock, office workers crowd the narrow passage before hurrying towards nearby government offices, schools and temples. Around nine, the pace begins to slow. By late morning, vendors are already packing away vegetables or washing the concrete beneath their stalls.
Kee Chang, a traditional Teochew Chinese glutinous rice dumpling wrapped in bamboo leaves, is a long-time favourite at Trok Mor. Photo://Trok Mor market
The market has completed its work before most travellers have finished breakfast at their hotel.
That quiet efficiency feels increasingly rare in a city where street food is often packaged as entertainment.
Bangkok's culinary reputation has become global, drawing visitors to Michelin-recommended stalls and late-night dining districts. Yet markets like Trok Mor remind us that street food did not evolve to become an attraction or a celebrity. It emerged because dense neighbourhoods needed affordable, freshly prepared meals every single day.
The tourists came later.
Perhaps that is what makes Trok Mor worth seeking out. It still functions exactly as it was intended.
Every morning, while visitors gather beneath the Giant Swing or wander through Wat Suthat searching for Bangkok’s historic heart, another version of the city quietly unfolds just beyond sight. Plastic bags are filled with curry. Cleavers strike wooden blocks. Monks complete their alms round. Familiar faces exchange greetings before heading home.
By the time Bangkok's monuments begin welcoming the day, Trok Mor has already lived it.
