Dear SP,
I hope that you are well. As you know we visited Bangkok a couple of weekends ago.
Not that you asked for this, but as I promised to write this for my wife, who insists on baring our lives for public consumption, I thought that I would burden you with my trip report whether you like it or not.
Fresh out of work on Friday night, we caught the 1950 to BKK. An uneventful but crowded flight, long queues at immigration.
The agent from the Oriental clocked us as we emerged from Customs. The legendary Oriental Hotel 6th sense seemingly at work, as we have never stayed there before. Though I would say that he probably has an eye for the kind of fart who takes up the limo service.
A pleasant, soothing 45-minute trundle into town.
We took a stateroom in the river wing of the Oriental. It is a corner room facing the river, a little bit larger than the normal rooms but smaller than a suite. It is called a stateroom because of the nautical theme of the décor. Nicely done you know, with classical furniture, Thai silk drapery and bed covers. I think the rooms in the garden wing are newer, as well as fewer but we were happy with our choice, especially with the balcony over-looking the river.
As you know I have always wanted to stay there, such a storied establishment. The other day I was watching one of these James Bond films from the 70's, and it featured a dinner scene with a ditzy blond on the riverside terrace.
The rooms at the Peninsula are larger and snazzier but I felt that the Oriental was a little bit warmer, though this may be because we stayed for a little bit longer.
Bellied up to the Bamboo Bar at about 11pm. Listened to some superb jazz, fronted by an American woman aptly named "Battle", apt because she had the stage presence of a battleship…She was supported by a group of engagingly glum looking Russians, who have been exiled to those hardly desolate banks of the Chao Phraya for the past 8 years. Beneath Ms Battles iron clad vocals was a musical combination of Stalinist order and discipline, and deep deep soul. Never been one much for Jazz, but I must say I really liked it.
On Saturday morning sky trained it to the end of the line and Jim Thompson's house, for some reason, the wife and I are tickled by the story of the life of Mr. Thompson. You know ex-CIA, built a house from recycled teak, jumpstarted the local silk industry, went for a morning walk in the Cameron Highland and disappeared.
After that dropped off at Siam Paragon, one station down. Now that is a hell of a Mall. Enormous, all the usual suspects were present, Gucci, Pucci, Todds, Versace, Zegna to name a few, Armani in all his guises. There is an enormous food hall in the basement and luxury car dealers round the corner. To no avail tried to get the wife to invest in some Pucci and got out of the Bottega Venetta store by the skin of my visa card.
Had a happy trawl round the huge basement aquarium, saw much to eat.
Dinner at Le Banyan. I found some mixed reports on this place, but I think you were right to recommend it. For what it was, it was charming in its way.
I had the scallops and prawns in pastry to start, the wife had snails. As a second starter she had the pan-fried foie gras with fruit and I had the foie gras terrine. I liked both my starters, as did the wife, but her foie gras was a little bit flabby on the plate. I know its supposed to be fatty, but I think that it should sort of stand up on the plate all sprightly, and pristine and not sag, which this one did a bit. We had pressed duck for 2 as a main. A bit of a novelty, they do this big show of squeezing the life out of a duck with a big silver press. They then make the sauce from the duck juice right in the dining room. Thankfully, they didn't do it table side, but across the room next to some other couple.
This was kind of them; I hate the attention when they do all that table side cooking. The other couple I guess is one that is quite common in Thailand. They were both younger than us, the guy farang, looking kind of Mediterranean, the girl, local, pretty, wearing daisy dukes and 4 inch heels. They sat down and ordered, then the guy left the girl to have a smoke in the bar with one of the owners, then happily stayed there until the poor thing had to go fetch her man to eat. Nice one.
The duck was ok I guess, a bit like the foie, not quite as sparkling and as pristine as you would like. The food is sturdy French rustic, pretty robust but not as well judged as the meal that we had at Auberge Dab last year.
On the whole, it was a reasonable slice of Bangkok life, with a warm enough welcome and a pretty white house and garden. The place is run by a couple of grizzled French gentlemen who seem to have been around a bit. The end result is a nice example of what you could call cuisine expatriate.
We skipped the go-go bars, and meandered back to the hotel for more jazz.
On Sunday we visited Ayutthaya, again one of those place that I have always wanted to visit. The capital of Thailand from about the 14th century to about the 17th, it was established around the time that the Siamese invaded and sacked Angkor, carting back to Siam the whole Khmer court, with their religious books and art. It ended its time as a Royal capital with the invasion and subsequent sacking by the Burmese.
The ruins are not as impressive or old as the Khmer ruins, in Cambodia, and are set within a fairly built-up area. There are one or two impressive mages, and the old royal compound is fairly atmospheric in some places. Our guide tried to get us to ride an elephant round a part of the ruins, but as it was mid day we decided against this.
Lunch was pleasant enough on a riverside restaurant. It was crowded with locals, the best thing there were the grilled fresh water prawns.
The place had a dock in the front from which you can board one of those long tailed boats for a boat ride towards Bangkok. We took up the offer from our guide of an hours boat ride after lunch down to a spot on the river where our car would collect us and get us back to Bangkok in time for a massage at the spa.
Well, feeling a little bit smug, a little bit sorted, we kind of swept onto our boat with as much regal bearing as we could muster. A curt nod to the restaurant manager, and the boatman revved the engine, shaking the very timbers of the restaurant.
Well you know what happens next, the boatman attempts a three-point turn in the middle of the river, and the engine dies. We narrowly avoid being run down by this huge riverboat and floating restaurant blaring Thai pop music, which has to almost stop dead in the water to avoid casualties.
The boatman then gets out his spanner and starts to tinker with the engine, while the boat floats lazily across the river, finally brushing up against the reeds at the opposite bank to the crowded restaurant. On doing so, we hear a cheer rise from our former dining companions in the restaurant.
Dinner at C'yan at the Metropolitan.
I am sure that you have heard of this place, an oasis of polished black marble and clean minimalist lines next to the Banyan Tree. It's terribly chic with yoga mats in every room and a spa called Shambhala.
The wife is not fond of the style, but I am a bit of a masochist, so take a perverse pleasure in having it constantly beaten onto my head that I'm not very cool and could do with a couple of weeks of detox and yoga.
We had the tasting menu that paired each course with a different wine by the glass. The quality of both food and wine was excellent and at 4185 Baht per head, I felt represented better value than Le Banyan.
Oysters to start, two of them, one covered in flavoured ice, the other hot with harissa. Nice touch, the cool (temperature) and sweet contrasting well with the hot (heat) and sour.
Yabbies came with a nice Marlborough Sauvignon Blac.
Duck foie gras, nicely pristine and looking like they were carved from a mallard not averse to using that yoga mat. It came with a glass of sauternes.
A seared hiramasa was unfortunately the low point; the fish might have been hanging about too long in the kitchen, though the hiramasa sashimi served as an amuse bouche was quite alright.
For the main, and the highlight, slow charcoal grilled wagyu with a glass of Halkin Estate Shiraz 1998.
C'yan is just off the lobby were you usually find the hotel coffee shop. So you wonder what exactly you will get. It overlooks the stark modern pool, which doubles as a water feature.
For most of our meal we were the only people there, and were well looked after. The place is clearly well funded, being able to churn out such a well-judged meal, made with superb ingredients, in a restaurant with no turn over or covers.
We managed to get into the Met bar, again empty save for a couple of forlorn looking giraffe women.
Returned for our last night at the Bamboo Bar and an early night for a Monday morning run to the airport.
Regards.
I HAD to comment on this post......it's BRILLIANT......MORE, MORE please.
Posted by: lisaibby | August 26, 2006 at 02:55 PM