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One lunch in Bangkok
Nov. 18th, 2005 02:55 pmOf all the sins on offer here, gluttony must be the most socially acceptable.
Around the corner from my hotel is a much bigger, much snazzier hotel; this week, it's hosting the "Epicurean Masters of the World" event. Fourteen chefs from all over the planet, with something over thirty Michelin stars between them. Prices ranged from the large to the utterly absurd, but fortunately when I got round to booking only the 'cheap' lunch was still available. So, after picking up and putting on one of my suits and my new, shiny, blue and gold silk shirt (the restaurant staff having looked slightly surprised on Tuesday when I turned up to book in hiking-trousers and 'Save the Tiger' T-shirt after a sweaty day's temple-viewing), off I went.
The lunch was five courses, catered by Normand Laprise of Montreal. It was held in the 65th-floor 'Dome' restaurant, with a 180-degree glass wall overlooking central Bangkok; given my views on views of cities, this wasn't a bad start. The decor is in whites, creams and browns, the waiting staff also; the diners sit in comfortable low armchairs. The clientele was 80% Japanese; one of the few places that I haven't seen the classic combination of large hairy white middle-aged man with small Thai girlfriend-of-the-day.
Start with a shot-glass, containing an oyster suspended in pink liquid, a green apple-flavoured liquid and a white, sweet tarragon foam; follow the instructions of the waitress and down it in one.
Then three tiny wraps: a thick baton of smoked salmon, a thin baton of peach, some mayonnaise, all wrapped in a shaving of kohlrabi and sitting in a thin layer of wasabi.
Then, presented in a preserving-jar, 'Lobster Surprise'. Lumps of lobster, asparagus, mushrooms, tiny cubes of mango. I'm not sure what the surprise was meant to be -- possibly the still-articulated claw meat at the bottom.
Then a slab of what I think was Kobe beef, rare in the middle and seared at the outside, served au jus with artfully-shaped root vegetables and a strange vegetable looking like four tiny pearl onions stuck together on a string.
Finally, after the waiter had cleared from the table the crumbs left by the fantastic bread assortment, using a special silver crumb-scraping implement, a slightly deconstructed fruits-de-foret creme brulee - fruit, bits of pistachio biscuit, a cold, slightly yoghurty cream, and a salty caramel topping.
I have to say that it beat even squid-on-a-stick as a meal; at seventy quid, plus twenty for drinks (one G&T, one vodka, one fruit punch, two water), it should have done.
Around the corner from my hotel is a much bigger, much snazzier hotel; this week, it's hosting the "Epicurean Masters of the World" event. Fourteen chefs from all over the planet, with something over thirty Michelin stars between them. Prices ranged from the large to the utterly absurd, but fortunately when I got round to booking only the 'cheap' lunch was still available. So, after picking up and putting on one of my suits and my new, shiny, blue and gold silk shirt (the restaurant staff having looked slightly surprised on Tuesday when I turned up to book in hiking-trousers and 'Save the Tiger' T-shirt after a sweaty day's temple-viewing), off I went.
The lunch was five courses, catered by Normand Laprise of Montreal. It was held in the 65th-floor 'Dome' restaurant, with a 180-degree glass wall overlooking central Bangkok; given my views on views of cities, this wasn't a bad start. The decor is in whites, creams and browns, the waiting staff also; the diners sit in comfortable low armchairs. The clientele was 80% Japanese; one of the few places that I haven't seen the classic combination of large hairy white middle-aged man with small Thai girlfriend-of-the-day.
Start with a shot-glass, containing an oyster suspended in pink liquid, a green apple-flavoured liquid and a white, sweet tarragon foam; follow the instructions of the waitress and down it in one.
Then three tiny wraps: a thick baton of smoked salmon, a thin baton of peach, some mayonnaise, all wrapped in a shaving of kohlrabi and sitting in a thin layer of wasabi.
Then, presented in a preserving-jar, 'Lobster Surprise'. Lumps of lobster, asparagus, mushrooms, tiny cubes of mango. I'm not sure what the surprise was meant to be -- possibly the still-articulated claw meat at the bottom.
Then a slab of what I think was Kobe beef, rare in the middle and seared at the outside, served au jus with artfully-shaped root vegetables and a strange vegetable looking like four tiny pearl onions stuck together on a string.
Finally, after the waiter had cleared from the table the crumbs left by the fantastic bread assortment, using a special silver crumb-scraping implement, a slightly deconstructed fruits-de-foret creme brulee - fruit, bits of pistachio biscuit, a cold, slightly yoghurty cream, and a salty caramel topping.
I have to say that it beat even squid-on-a-stick as a meal; at seventy quid, plus twenty for drinks (one G&T, one vodka, one fruit punch, two water), it should have done.
