Stepping gingerly into a torrent of traffic to avoid a red-hot grill of pork skewers, I reflect that there’s not a lot of evidence of the much-trumpeted crackdown on Bangkok street food sellers in evidence in the smart district of Sukhumvit. The international media went to town on the story earlier this year, claiming the city would be “unrecognisable” without its famous fragrant stalls, blaming “gentrification” and calling it “a banal assault on way of life”. Months later, however, it’s still hard to make your way along the cracked pavements of the stall-filled sidestreets without risk to life and limb.

The city authorities cited “order and hygiene” concerns, claiming it was part of a campaign to “return the footpath to pedestrians”, but were quick to state, in response to the outcry, that there would be “no outright ban”. Instead, they said, regulations were just being enforced. Yet reports persisted of evictions, and many people I spoke to in the city seemed to have a story of a favourite stall that had disappeared overnight. James Hacon, the strategy director for the UK restaurant group behind the Thaikhun and Chaophraya brands, itself set up by a former Bangkok street food vendor, tells me he has noticed a decline in the number of stalls even in the short time he has been a regular visitor: “There are only two night markets left now … there used to be loads.”

The sidestreets are still filled with stalls – and great food. Photograph: Dan Burns

Street food stalls in Bangkok seem to serve the same function as the British chippy, attracting people from all walks of life. While Rohit Sachdev, the founder and managing director of a group that includes some of Bangkok’s coolest bars and restaurants, points out that few of the foreigners complaining would like it if someone set up outside their front door selling fried fish, he acknowledges that without these stalls, there would be nowhere for lower-paid workers to eat – and, he concedes, he did miss his favourite chicken pad ka-prao stall when it vanished. (There’s a happy ending to this one; he eventually spotted the vendor a few streets away, evading regulations by conducting her business from the back of a pickup truck.)

He is echoed by the general manager of the hotel I stay at, a Swedish expat who has been in the city for nearly half a century and who has seen a lot of change. “It’s not just about the impact on tourism,” he observes. “First, these people need to make a living. Second, where will the office workers go? They can’t afford to eat elsewhere.”

Even more anxious is Kanit, who has been selling chicken and rice from a cart in the Wat Phraya Krai area for more than 25 years. “Yes, I’m worried. If they come and clear this area for new housing, I can’t do anything about it. If they move us to an indoor centre, I can’t afford it – rich people, poor people, everyone comes here.”

Praew, who sells stir-fries in just such a centre round the corner after her old pitch was redeveloped, confirms her overheads are higher – “on the pavement, I just had to pay for electricity” – and complains the footfall is lower now. She used to have her regular customers, she says, but not everyone has moved with her.

The only person I find who is wholly supportive of the move is a woman whose colleague was run over by a motorbike as he attempted to navigate the pavements. “It’s dangerous,” she tells me. “Many people die.”

Tana Wanwatanakul, who imports Thai products into the UK for restaurants including Thai Leisure Group’s portfolio and Som Saa in London, agrees that in some places there are so many stalls that it causes problems, but locals are still creatures of habit. “They like having certain dishes in a certain place,” he says, regardless of the effect on traffic.

Street food is the only affordable option for many locals. Photograph: Dan Burns

Woody Leela, the group development chef at Thaikhun, who is from north-eastern Thailand, but spent many years working in the capital, says the food landscape there has changed a lot in the 15 years he has been in Britain. There are food stands in shopping centres now, “but they are more expensive and …” he pauses, delicately parsing the noodles in front of him with a chopstick … “it is not feeling the same. You can’t see the food being cooked. It’s not street food.”

Here are three of his favourite dishes; best served on a busy roadside, but they will taste pretty good in your kitchen, too.

Pad ka-prao (chicken with holy basil)

When I asked the people I met in Thailand about their street food favourites, this came up more often than any other dish. The sweet, almost mentholated, flavour of the holy basil makes a delicious contrast with the intensely savoury meat. And, of course, everything is better with fried egg on top. Serve with sticky rice. (Note that chillies vary in both size and heat, so the recipe below is just a guide – you may wish to add more or less, depending on how large and hot yours are.)

(Serves 2)

2 chicken breasts or 3 boneless thighs, skin removed

3 tbsp neutral oil

2 eggs

4 garlic cloves

3 very small chillies (see note, above)

1 tsp oyster sauce

1 tbsp fish sauce

1 tbsp soy sauce

1 tsp dark sweet soy sauce

½ tsp sugar

Generous handful of holy or, alternatively, sweet basil leaves

Use a knife to roughly mince the meat. Finely chop the garlic and half the chillies.

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a wok then break in one of the eggs and fry to your liking. Repeat with the other, then set aside somewhere warm. Add the rest of the oil and allow to heat up.

Add the garlic and chillies and fry for a minute or so, then add the meat followed by the oyster, fish and both types of soy sauce. Cook until the meat is just done (about three minutes depending on the size of the pieces). Meanwhile, roughly chop the remaining chillies.

Add the sugar and cook for a minute – if the dish looks at all dry, add a splash of water to help coat the meat. Stir in the basil and remaining chillies and serve with the egg on top.

Thai food is best eaten on a busy roadside. Photograph: Dan Burns

Som tam (green papaya salad)

This celebrated Thai dish gives lie to the idea that salads are mild-mannered affairs. Fiery, salty, sour and sweet, it makes a satisfying meal in itself with sticky rice, or a good accompaniment to grilled fish, chicken or pork. Chef Woody Leela likes to leave the skins on the garlic, as he thinks this gives more flavour, but I find the larger European heads have tougher skin and I tend to peel them. (If you would like to make it vegetarian, leave out the shrimp and fish sauce, but you may wish to season it more generously to compensate.)

(Serves 2-4)

About 225g green papaya

3 garlic cloves

4 very small chillies (see note, above)

30g palm sugar

2 tbsp dried shrimp

20g roasted unsalted peanuts

Juice of 1 lime, plus a quarter of another

4 medium tomatoes, roughly chopped

2 long beans or 6 french beans

1 tbsp tamarind juice

3 tbsp fish sauce

Peel the papaya and shred into thin strands using a julienne peeler, or, more laboriously, with a knife. Soak in cold water while you make the dressing.

Pound together the garlic, chillies and sugar until you have a paste. Add the shrimp and pound into small pieces, then do the same with two tablespoons of peanuts.

Add the wedge of lime and squash, then add the tomatoes and beans and roughly squash.

Drain the papaya and pat dry. Add to the dressing and lightly bruise, turning it all over to combine well, then dress with the tamarind, fish sauce and lime juice. Taste, adjust if necessary and top with the remaining peanuts to serve.

Gung foi tort (crunchy prawn fritters)

Generally sold alongside gloriously bouncy fish cakes, these aggressively hot and crisp fritters are given extra crunch by leaving the shells on the prawns. It’s almost impossible to get small raw shell-on prawns in the UK, and the larger ones are a bit of a mouthful, so I have compromised by removing all but the tails – perfect if you don’t like your lunch staring at you. Woody Leela uses a limestone paste for texture, but that’s also hard to find, so bicarbonate of soda makes a good substitute. (Note that the double frying process may seem fiddly, but, after some trial and error, I have found it makes life a lot easier for the non-professional chef and allows you to make them in advance, and then fry to order.)

(Makes about 6)

600g smallish raw shell-on prawns

50g plain flour

100g rice flour

1 tsp salt

1 tsp sugar

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

Large handful of holy or sweet basil leaves, roughly chopped

Neutral oil, to fry

2 limes, cut into wedges

Shell the prawns, leaving the ends of the tails on if you want some extra crunch. Carefully cut them in half across their length and roughly chop.

Mix together the flour, salt, sugar and bicarb in a large bowl and then add enough cold water to make a loose batter slightly thicker than single cream. Add the prawns and basil – mix well.

Fill the bottom of a nonstick frying pan with oil and put on a high heat. Line a plate with kitchen paper. When it’s hot enough that a drop of batter sizzles, spoon in some of the mixture and quickly spread it out; it should be no more than one prawn piece deep. Once it has set on the bottom, carefully turn it over, then set aside on the paper while you repeat with the rest.

Heat a wok or large saucepan a third full of neutral oil to about 170C (340F). Fry the fritters in batches for a couple of minutes until golden and crunchy, turning occasionally so they cook evenly, then drain on kitchen paper and season. Eat immediately with lime wedges.