ไทย
The Origins of Sato: Rooted in Human Instinct
From humble grains of rice transformed into an alcoholic drink known as sato, this beverage has long been woven into the everyday life of people in Northeast Thailand (Isaan). For generations, sato has been brewed for communal gatherings and celebrations—temple festivals, ordinations, weddings, and the shared labor of rice harvesting. Whenever people came together, sato was there, quietly playing its role.
Sato is more than a drink; it is part of Isaan culture itself. It gives rise to the phrase “lao hai–kai tua”—literally “a jar of liquor and a chicken”—a simple expression meaning the most modest way of welcoming guests or sharing a meal with friends. In this simplicity lies the spirit of hospitality, connection, and togetherness.
Sato is made by fermenting glutinous rice with luk paeng sato (traditional fermentation starters) and water, without any distillation. Its process is simple, the drink is easy to enjoy, and its flavor is naturally appealing. Traditionally, sato has been brewed at home among farming families and shared by many people during ceremonies, communal gatherings, or throughout the farming season.
In the past, sato was fermented in earthen jars and enjoyed fresh, meant to be consumed on the very day it reached its peak flavor. This required careful timing—brewing in advance for the moment of drinking. As a result, the taste of sato has always reflected the skill, intuition, and experience of each brewer.
A Legacy from Granpa Nuan & Grandma Chun
Grandpa Nuan and Grandma Chun were rice farmers who brewed sato using rice they grew themselves, sharing it with relatives and friends. What began as something made simply for drinking together soon became known for its distinctive quality—so much so that friends encouraged them to produce it for sale. Over time, my grandparents also began distilling spirits, earning recognition and respect within their community and neighboring areas.
Through brewing sato and distilling spirits, Grandpa Nuan and Grandma Chun formed a wide circle of friendships, reaching beyond their village to nearby districts. Friends would visit their home regularly, drawn by both the people and what they shared. For a long time, outsiders did not know exactly what they were doing—until officials eventually came to inspect the house and discovered that they were producing alcohol for sale. On several occasions, my grandparents had to sell the rice they had grown throughout the year to pay fines to the excise authorities. Even so, this never truly stopped them—until they were finally threatened with imprisonment, forcing them to bring their production to an end.
Nanuanchun Sato: Reviving a Living Wisdom
No matter how much time has passed, my family has continued to farm rice every year. I, too, have always helped in the fields—because we eat the rice we grow together, and because rice was the most important thing to my grandparents. Although Ta Nuan and Yai Jan have passed on, what remains are memories and wisdom, preserved through stories passed down within the family. I only came to fully learn about their sato-making after I began producing sato for sale in my first year.
The very first batch of Nanuanchun Sato began with just two liters, born from my longing for Grandpa Nuan and Grandma Chun. When I was fourteen, my grandmother taught me how to make khao mak (sweet fermented rice). She told me that if water was added and it was left to ferment for another one or two days, it would become sato. Years later, I tried fermenting sato again to share with friends during the New Year holidays. The response was overwhelmingly positive—so much so that my friends encouraged me to begin making sato to sell.
From a Local Ferment to Fine Dining Tables
What began as a first batch of just two liters eventually led Nanuanchun Sato to be served at a Chef’s Table. Samrub Samrub Thai was the first restaurant to pair Nanuanchun Sato with its cuisine, under the guidance of Chef Mint Thanyaporn Jarukittikun and Chef Prin Polsuk—the owners and chefs known for their dedication to sourcing native ingredients and reviving local culinary wisdom. Their work blends tradition with reinterpretation, allowing creativity to unfold into deeply refined dishes.
Samrub Samrub Thai has long served as a space for gathering and exchanging knowledge around Thai food culture. As more guests tasted the sato, conversations began naturally, spreading from table to table through word of mouth. Without advertising, Nanuanchun Sato found its way into wider recognition—shared through genuine experience rather than promotion.
Social Media Connects the World; Nanuanchun Sato Connects Friendships
As social media brings the world closer together, Nanuanchun Sato has become a bridge for friendship. What was once a local, humble drink is gradually finding its way toward becoming something people around the world can appreciate—just as I do. Through the restaurants that have partnered with us, more people have come to discover Nanuanchun Sato. These encounters have led to conversations online, where we exchange ideas and shared interests around food and native ingredients.
Many have since asked to visit us at Nanuanchun—friends from both Thailand and abroad, including the United States, Canada, Switzerland, Ireland, Austria, Germany, France, Japan, and more. They come to learn about Isaan’s local culture, to eat Isaan food, and to drink sato together with my family. Everyone who comes here is not a tourist, but a friend. When there is a chance to meet again, we gather to share a meal—and I never forget to bring a bottle of sato along with me.
Sato Brings Many Friendships to Nanuanchun
From humble beginnings—small batches of sato—Nanuanchun gradually became known within the food community. What has moved me most is witnessing the shared desire to carry sato culture beyond borders, allowing people around the world to discover it. One such example is Piano Supannada Plubthong, the owner of Sip-song Bar, a Thai restaurant in Vienna, Austria. She set out to ferment sato in Vienna using rice from Thailand—and succeeded, eventually serving it in her own restaurant.
We stayed connected through video calls, exchanging knowledge about fermentation and brewing sato together online, despite the distance. When Piano later visited us in person, she brought Sip Song Sato to share with my family—sato fermented from Thai rice in Vienna, using mineral water from the Alps.
Sato is a drink that connects friendships, no matter where we are in the world—we always find ways to meet again. Beyond this, there are many friends along the way: the Day Drinkers Collective in Chiang Dao, who produce mead; mountain-based distillers who welcome us warmly whenever we visit Chiang Mai; our winemaker friends in Bangkok at Tipsy Tickles, whom we met through sharing our drinks; and restaurant friends and customers in Bangkok who have supported us and always invite us to share a meal whenever we visit. From a small beginning—simply fermenting sato—so many connections and friendships have naturally grown.
Freedom and Simple Happiness
Relationships, gatherings, eating, and drinking have always been fundamental to human life. Sharing good food, exchanging stories, creating memories, and enjoying sato with close friends remain simple pleasures that are always within our reach.
Even in the modern world, where countless rules and regulations attempt to restrain these human instincts, they can never fully succeed—especially when it comes to making sato. Although laws may favor large-scale alcohol producers and systems of monopoly, ordinary villagers like us have continued to make sato across generations. We do so because it is our way of life, a form of simple happiness, and a freedom that no one can ever take away from us.
Photo Credit : Kanrapee.Chok , Nanuanchun
