The Sticky Fingers Story

Text by: Jason Rolan

Photos by: Phoonsab Thevongsa

Long before Vientiane’s food scene blossomed into what it is today, a small restaurant on a dusty dirt road was quietly becoming something far greater than its founders had anticipated. Sticky Fingers opened in 2001, born from a simple frustration: nowhere in the city stayed open all day, cocktails were virtually impossible to find, and there was no place where you could simply sit, linger, and feel at home. Three friends — Sophie Steller (now the sole owner), Marnie McDonald, and Damian Kean — decided to fix that.

The name was put to a vote among Vientiane College teachers, and “Sticky Fingers” won on the strength of its dual meaning: a nod to the beloved Lao staple of sticky rice, and a name easy enough for the whole city to remember. When a venue called Le Bistrot came up for sale, the three went in equal thirds on the license, and the rest, as they say, is history.

In those early days, the capital was a different world. Wi-Fi didn’t exist, the street out front was unpaved, and traffic consisted largely of bicycles and motorbikes. Yet Sticky Fingers quickly became something of a gravitational center for Vientiane’s expat community; a place where jobs were found, deals were struck, and friendships formed during long afternoons. Before the internet arrived, the restaurant maintained one of the only notice boards in town. The team half-jokingly called their extended services “Sticky Care,” fielding calls to deliver food and milk, and even helping one regular track down a kitten.

The road to 25 years was far from smooth. In 2004, during the ASEAN summit, road-widening works swallowed the entire front of the building, reducing Sticky Fingers to a narrow sliver of its former self. The restaurant was forced to close during the summit ,

and the financial strain was significant. The team explored other venues, briefly operated a second location, and eventually found salvation in securing the shopfront next door. Stubbornness, by Sophie’s own admission, was a key ingredient in their survival.

Over the decades, the menu evolved in ways its founders never fully predicted. Initially determined not to serve Lao food, the team gradually adapted as local customers began ordering it directly from the kitchen. A creative workaround became a signature: the restaurant’s take on Phad Khee Mao, made with penne pasta when other noodles weren’t available, somehow worked and never left. 

Chef Phom, who has grown alongside the restaurant for years, embodies this spirit of improvisation. His philosophy is straightforward: “We’ll figure it out.” Whether cooking for a table of four or catering for 500 at short notice, he does exactly that. What began as a single weekly special under his watch has expanded to three; Sophie admits she has quietly doubted some of his combinations and been wrong every time. His creativity finds its fullest expression in those weekly specials; unlikely pairings that might give a cautious diner pause, yet somehow, reliably, work. Alongside him, front-of-house manager Noy has been equally integral to the atmosphere that makes Sticky Fingers tick. Between the two of them, the kitchen and the dining room have been in steady, experienced hands for years.

Some menu items have become institutions in their own right. Dishes named after regulars — Kim’s Salad, Paul’s Best, Patrick’s Pasta — sit alongside international comfort food and a hangover breakfast that, the restaurant is clear, can be ordered at any hour. Then there is the Tom Yum Martini, born from a customer cocktail competition and refined ever since into something with a genuinely secret recipe. Depending on the ginger, it runs golden or unexpectedly pink.

What has perhaps meant most to the team is how the restaurant’s audience has shifted. Once predominantly expat-driven, Sticky Fingers has built a deep and loyal local following. During COVID-19, it was Vientiane’s Lao community that kept the place afloat, a moment Sophie describes as feeling like the restaurant had truly put down roots.

Twenty-five years on, Sophie is known around the city simply as “Sticky’s Sophie.” In Vientiane, the restaurant has become something rarer than a good meal: an institution that has grown alongside the city and stayed true to itself throughout.

For more information, 

visit fb.com/StickyFingersLaos

Getting there:

Lao Airlines flies to Vientiane from many domestic and regional airports.