Peter Green

Both sides hold true. Cocktails have long fueled a culture of fast and friendly, but there is also the side that looks to the blend of the best quality ingredients to make the whole superior to the parts. Consider the noble martini. Some will just toss the name out there, with little concern for the origins of its base, but others will hound the bartender for the best of gin, the smoothest of vodkas. Would one be content with standard bar stock as the final resting place for the tragic olive? (Okay, near final, it's going down my gullet).

I looked for it in Vancouver in July, and my Korean relatives said it's not there. I looked in Bangkok last week, too, and no dice (or whole for that matter). Still, you could probably forage a few, maybe up on the Sunshine coast, and do your own? Or alternatively, T&T could probably arrange them for you. They can come up with most anything. As a note on this, we had some years ago in Seoul. My wife, who only had Korean up to the age of 7 saw the sign, and immediately translated it as "mountain" (san) octopus, which got us some real odd looks. Another great dish that's hard to find is kop chang, the big intestines, either stewed in a jong bul, or better yet grilled and taken with lots of soju in those places south of the Han.

Okay, now I promise to get back to the WGF

Catering Your Next Coup (part 5) Day 5 (September 23) I hate leaving Bangkok. The papers had the latest decrees from the Council for Democratic Reform under constitutional Monarch (CDRM), and I noted that a number of ministers had been “invited in” for discussions. Several of these weren’t to leave, at least not for awhile. But others were immediately back on the job. Debate was ongoing in the papers on the ethical elements of the coup. Practicality over democracy. The academics were torn over whether this was a good thing or not, while 80% of the country was beaming with happiness (according to the polls, if you trust them). They did find two motorcycle taxi drivers who were unhappy, so at least they were unbiased……. So, for a final meal, amidst my frantic grocery shopping (try finding a fresh baby eggplant where I live….and good mushrooms? Forget it!), I had to figure out how to end this edible thesis. We’d covered the French, the Americans, the Chinese, the Thai. I didn’t feel like Spanish. Who else would fit the bill? The answer was staring me in the face as I came out of Villa. Korean BBQ and Tofu. Okay, it’s a chain, but I’m as partial to Korean food as I am to Thai food (and French and Italian and Szechuan…..). And when it comes to a good coup, who better than the “Irish of Asia” (I never quite figured that one out). I took a seat, a menu, and ordered a Sapporo. Unfortunately, Korean beer isn’t to be found yet in Thailand. Soju they have, but I had to catch a plane, and soju can have detrimental effects upon your reasoning elements. The fist item on the menu grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go: gul soon tubu – oyster tofu hot pot. First came the ban chan: a mackeral, fried. Two types of kim chi, some kung namul (big bean sprouts), and some deep fried zucchini, and, of course, a couple of oigi (cucumber pickles – brined but no dill). And then came the soon tubu. Man, it was good. All thick and bubbling, with pools of chili and oil coming to the surface. Meanwhile they served the rice out of the bowl, and then poured water back in to sizzle and boil and lift up the crisp bits of rice to form a soup – soong nyoong – to drink like tea after the meal. I lingered over this meal. A bit of tubu, some rice, a bit of ban chan. I felt quite civilized. Behind me, a group of young Korean teenagers – male – were enjoying their meal with some Thai students. Note that Korean men are considered the big heartthrobs of modern Asia (my Korean female friends that I grew up with in Vancouver roar hilariously at this news). The staff (two) were excellent, pouring properly with two hands and showing the proper level of deference. I did my best to finish, thanked the staff, and took care of the horrid business of packing. Luckily, I had rolled up a light dive bag in my suitcase. Reading the news, Mrs. Shinawatra is back in town with two of the kids, “looking after the assets”. Sadly, I checked out and made for Don Muang. This was to be my last transit through the old lady. The new airport, Suvarnabumi, would open in just a few more days on the 28th. I’ll miss coming in here, watching the golfers out on the links while we pull in. The MBK atmosphere of the main hall….. Pulling up, I could see tables and chairs being loaded into trucks. Trolleys were at a premium. But people were still happy. I checked my bags in with Gulf Air (with nary a mention of my 42 kg load) and went back up to the Brew Haus for a final beer. I chose a Honey Bee, like I’d had at Road House. I’d miss this place. Many was the time that I would be too early at the airport and so would kill my time up here waiting for Gulf Air to open, or else I would finish check-in early and then come up here to relax before customs and immigration. My favourite dish was always the pork liver wrapped in bacon. It seemed the right way to put myself in a mellow mood to go back home. And so, the crisis was over. Enough different cuisines had been tried that I felt disaster was averted. Fin

Coup Catering (part 4) Peace was breaking out everywhere! By all accounts the city was overcome with general happiness and content! Thaksin was staying with Mohammad Al-Fayed, downing pints of bitter, and betting on Manchester U. The soldiers were reminded to keep on smiling, as if you need to remind a Thai to smile. This called for lunch. Obviously, when it comes to political intrigue, the Chinese are masters of the craft. If I was Sun Tzu, what would I eat for lunch? The obvious answer was Hainanese chicken rice! I had a busy day planned out, of checking on my banks, getting a trading account squared away (coups always make for good opportunities), and meeting with different people. One of these people was my friend, Khun Pom, who has a shop in Silom Shopping Village specializing in Buddhist material (Baan Thana Art – shameless plug). She’d been at Sukhumvit Square before it was razed to the ground in one dark, unpleasant night, but was getting back on her feet now. More important, she had a car, so she could get me around to where I needed to go. And one of the places I needed to get to was the coffee shop of the Montien Hotel. For the last few years, when I ask around at the dinner tables at the World Gourmet Fest about special things to eat, the Thai and Chinese at the table invariably say “Hainanese chicken rice at the Montien coffee shop”. This is a usually a very devisive topic, so when I see such a level of unanimity, I’m amazed. And it’s not just limited to Bangkok proper. There’s a rivalry with Singapore over who does the best HCR (I’m giving up on writing it out every time). One of my contacts down South does hold that Bangkok may do it better. Strangely enough, no one talks about HCR in Hainan. It’s sort of like trying to find Mongolian hot pot in Mongolia……mutton yes, hot pot no. Anyways, we made it there, despite the fact that Khun Pom takes her hands off the steering wheel every few minutes to wai the shrines we pass, parked the car, and made it in. I’d tried twice before to get here for HCR. Once, after a long, wonderful Peruvian meal by Blondet last year, when we’d all decided we needed to pile into a car and have HCR, and another time when I came in on my own one evening earlier in the year. Both times the HCR was finished. But, one of my other friends in Bangkok is one of the Managers at the Montien. From here I’d learned the magic times; 11:00 a.m. and 8:00 p.m. At 11:00 a.m. it comes out fresh, and at 8:00 p.m. they redo the rice. I was free for lunch, and the timing worked. Mind you, I recall when the HCR wasn’t there that I’d consoled myself quite happily with a dish of minced beef and olives, a very seductive flavour combination. The dish itself is simplicity. Chicken, cooked and cut through ready to be doled out, resting on a bed of cucumbers and tomato. Three different dipping sauces. And the rice. I took a piece of fowl with my chopsticks, dipped it in the dark thick sauce reminiscent of Beijing Duck, and put it in my mouth with a load of rice. A bowl of soup, and a bit of ice tea (repress your shock!) and then another mouthful. I’d made the mistake of ordering a plate of fried mussel pancake, just because I couldn’t help myself, but the HCR was so filling that I could barely savage the mussels. My verdict? I would have to eat a lot more HCR in a lot more places to make a final decision as to which is the best. In the meantime, think of how many other things I could be eating? Lunch done, I thanked Khun Pom for her help (and if you’ve tried to find offices in Bangkok, you’ll understand that that is a lot of help) and then I took care of some more of my errands. During the afternoon, I called up one of my friends working in Nakhon Nowhere. She advised me that the lockdown on her had been lifted somewhat. Her government did not approve of the direction in democracy Thailand had taken, but now were relaxed enough to allow her to travel anywhere except Chiang Mai and Bangkok. I told her about my meals, she called me a sadist, and we parted on happy terms. Back home there was time to shower, change, shower again, and try putting on new dry clothes. Then it was down to the BTS (skytrain), change onto the MRT (underground), and head for Hua Lamphong to meet more of my friends. We were going to Chinatown. The old part of town has a reputation for some of the best food to be had in town. It also has a reputation that you’ll never be able to find anything. My old friend A has worked the food side of Bangkok for over ten years now, and I trust him to get me to the best places. After fifteen minutes we were kinda lost. “He says he knows where it is…it’s around here somewhere,” opined J. “That looks like a good place over there, “ said C. “Is that the one we’re looking for?” “No, but it looks good.” “Hey, I recognize that khao man gai place!” And then, in a moment, we were there: Chotechitr. It’s a nice little one shopfront place, with about five tables and three old ladies looking after the cooking and ordering. Thinks looked packed, so A headed across the street to get some beers for us to drink while we waited. By the time he was back, though, we had a table. We had the one in the back which is usually where the two dogs sit. We grabbed our stoops, looked at the pages and pages of specials on the wall, looked at the waitress, and she went to get the English menus. We ordered a few dishes to start, and then checked out the décor. The usual posters, shrines, and such, but also a number of reviews that Bob Halliday - the legend of Bangkok food writing – had done on this place. If there’s a New York Times restaurant review equivalent in Bangkok, it’s Bob Halliday. Unfortunately, he’s getting older now, but his recommendations are magic. We started off with the mee krob, well recommended here for using the proper limes. Crispy, broken into bites sized bits. J and I debated the origins of Klingon, and we both felt strongly that mee krob could be one of the antecedents. With this we had a very nice banana blossom, with a rich sauce with just a bit of piquancy to set it off. And then they brought out the fish with three flavours, a crisply fried fish with three thick savoury sauces over top. We scandalized the table by “turning over the boat”, flipping the fish to get at the meat rather than despining it ala Predator II. It wasn’t that we were worried about bad luck, but just that it looked ugly. There was some debate over the actual type of fish. We put it down to that “Thai fish you always find”. It was quite good, the fish firm, and the skin that lovely crisp the Thai’s do well. We also had some shrimp cakes, breaded and deep fried, that held a very nice texture, and some aubergine with a “very smoky flavour”, says J. We’d finished our byo-cans a while back, so we worked our wiles on the waitresses and had them bring us some large Heinikens. These came out with the most interesting collars of ice. The only down side on this is that the three ladies do everything in the place; they wait, they cook, they clean, they bus. So you have to be a little patient. Meanwhile, the dogs were relatively p’d off that we were occupying their table. They were somewhat mollified when one of the ladies took one away to do his nails. At this point, we needed a yaa dong break to clear the table. Yaa dong. How does one describe it? Cough syrup? It’s a spirit, definitely. The waitress asked us what we wanted to have with it as a mixed, but we were way too slow, so we just took it in shots. As a digestif it’s not bad. And I haven’t had sinus problems for awhile since. I’d probably put it ahead of Minh Mang tonic (another story for another day), and it was no problem the four of us killing the mickey in a matter of two shots. Our youth reinvigorated, we ordered more food. We ordered a duck curry (red), because we felt we’d be heathens not to have a curry; had a dish of raw prawns lightly ceviched in the Thai way with nam pla, chilis, and squeezed lime (a dish I’ve loved for decades), and a fabulous dish of what they called crispy Thai bacon, but what was really pig belly fried up and served with fresh green beans in a lovely gravy. Of the dishes, only the duck curry failed to excite. The banana blossom was really nice, reminiscent of what Justin Quek had done at the WGS in Singapore, but much earthier. And the gung (prawns) were just right, a burn of pain on the tip of your tongue. The mee krob crunched appropriately, with a little back tang, and the fish was ugly but tasty (whereas I’m ugly and tasteless). And the pork…..you have to imagine Homer Simpson with drool running out of the edge of his mouth to properly appreciate the feeling that good pork belly can inspire. We’d managed, by this point, to do serious damage to their beer stocks. We should have left, but it was pouring down, in the first serious rainfall I’d seen in a couple of weeks. We held our ground for another couple of beers, and then set off down the street to grab a cab. This necessitated our passing several other restaurants, all of which looked like they’d be good fun, too. Where do you draw the line? But, we figured that was enough for one night. We headed back uptown to Sukhumvit, grabbed a good window seat with a view, and wiled the nig The city was calm, we'd seen little to no sign of the military, and everyone was smiles. What more can you ask from life? (“Perhaps a waist?” whispers my darling)

Please, please post your restaurant reviews on Sabah! I was there in '93, and loved the state, but didn't care much for the food (the rice was disappointing), but I'd like to have a reason to return. On the coconut spirit side, this is also a common drink on the part of the Phillipinos. My neighbor in Cairo once brought some back that her brother had made and gifted to her. It was wet, is all I can say. For rice spirits, lau khao is all over the place in Thailand, and, while working effectively add diminishing your vision, can also be used for stripping the driveway. I recommend insted lau Lao, the Laos version. For this, they say that the stuff made in Don Khong near the Mekong Falls in the Panhandle is the best. I've tried that, and have also taken shots in Luang Prabang, and I'd like to give you a comparison, but I honestly have a hard time remembering much about those incidents........

Like Singapore, Bangkok has a very dedicated cult of foodies, plus, you get a lot of excellent chefs passing through on holidays who get roped into doing "promotionals" that are fantastic. White Alban truffle dinners, anyone? And this is not to belittle the street food, which as also fantastic. The only issue is the noise and polution levels can get to you at times. For brunch, I don't cover it here, but I really like the Four Seasons. However, you should commit to like three or four hours to do it right (and get your liver in training, as the martinis and wine are all in).

Catering Your Next Coup (part 3) Thursday, September 21 I found myself, somehow, in the midst of a Thursday. Day two and a bit of operations, and everything seemed to be going swimmingly. Anywhere I looked people were happy, there were pictures of troops being covered in flowers, and the ex-prime minister was going to be taking an English holiday. This Bastille Day merriment called for more French food. I was off to Le Vendome. I’m biased, I admit. I’ve enjoyed Nicolas’ food both here and at the Four Seasons, and have never been anything but thrilled with what he’s prepared. His lunch menu – at 450 baht - is one of the best dining values to be had anywhere. And the staff are near perfect in their service, not clustering as can happen here in Bangkok, nor being overly attentive, which, while cute, can distract from the food. Nicolas is good for food talk. He’s worked in a string of 2 and 3 star restaurants (including Taillevent), and was a private chef to ex-Prime Minister Juppe before coming to Thailand (via Singapore, if I recall correctly). I stopped by and let him know I was back. This is another kitchen I love to watch, wide open and functional, if a little tight. When it was Luca’s we’d commented upon how it gave the chef a vantage from which to observe every spot of the room and manage his timings. The tightness is the only downside, but as Nicholas and his staff don’t quite make up my girth, the system works. And it works well. They smile, they clown a little, and they work diligently. They take up the chef’s obsession with detailing in earnest. I love to watch the precision placement of items on the dish. Nicolas recommended some Japanese scallops that he had for the first course. I would follow that with a slow baked sea bass (wild caught from Tasmania) in a lightly spiced blue prawn Bouillon. I looked at the a la carte menu. My eyes were caught by a ravioli of forest mushrooms, and the roasted pigeon from Bresse with a truffle risotto. And in the back, a degustation menu for 1800 baht, with a selection of langoustines, lobsters, foie gras, herb crusted prawns, and other items. The scallop was very smooth, creamy to the tongue with bits of truffle in the emulsion. A bit of pork belly hid in the backs under the bubbles of the sauce and the strip of home made potato chip. Before my main came, Nicolas came by with a beautiful dish of crispy pork belly, nestled atop a moist dollop of lentils. He knows I’m limited on how much pork I can have back home, and felt that I needed this. I did. You can never have enough pork fat. And the lentils take that and swab the sides of your tongue with the thickness of it all. After this came the fish, pulling apart pleasantly in blades of flesh. The bouillon settled softly against the meat and filled out my mouth, and the bright green French lentils winked at me cheerfully, daring me to crunch into them and offset the softness of the fish. And after all this, dessert. A nice crème brulee on chocolate sabayon with fresh strawberries. Nicolas and I chatted about forthcoming plans. They’ll be moving to soi 31 soon, to a restored house in a garden setting. There’d been earlier plans to move to Rama IV, but those, happily for me, had fallen through. I’m selfish. I find it easier to get to places on Sukhumvit as opposed to Witayu. By this time I was thinking about where I would find the room for dinner. Maybe a walk? I took this as an excuses to stop in at Verasu just up the street, and see what new gadgets were available for the kitchen - not that my weight allowance would lead to any serious purchasing. Still, maybe a chinois…..? I spent a little bit of time on my notes, took a swim, and then prepared for dinner. Tonight I was off to the Plaza Athenee. "Austr(al)ian Flavours. Two Continents uncorked." Plaza Athenee's 5th Boutique Wine Event with Dr. Bertold Salomon, Jorg Worther, Martin Faist and the fabulous wines from "fin" Aperitif Selection of deluxe canapes by Martin Faist 2005 Riesling Undhof Kogl QbA, Salomon Undhof, Krems, Austria Menu Jorg Worther's Fingerfood 2005 Gruner Veltliner Alte Reben QbA, Salomon Undhof, Krems, Austria Marinated sea crab with Sydney rock oyster in cucumber jelly and micro basil salad by Martin Faist 2001 Isolation Ridge Riesling -Art Label-, Frankland Estate, Western Australia 2005 Riesling Undhof Kogl Reserve QbA, Salomon Undhof, Krems, Austria Soup of Yabbis with tomatoes by Jorg Worther 2005 Gruner Veltliner Lindberg Reserve QbA, Salomon Undhof, Krems, Austria Austrian veal "Tafelspitz" braised fillet of veal on yellow stuffed capsicum and red pepper cream by Jurg Worther 2004 Small Hill Red Cuvee Trocken, Leo Hillinger, Burgenland, Austria "Otzi" Absolut Mandrin Granite 42 degree below by Martin Faist Pan seared venison from Austria and Australian "Ranger Valley" beef tenderloin with marinated beet root, pickled yellow pumpkin and flour egg dumplings by Martin Faist 2003 Norwood Shiraz Cabernet Merlot, Salomon Estate, South Australia 2003 Finniss River Shiraz, Salomon Estate, South Australia Glazed apple walnut pancake with sweet sabayon by Jorg Worther 2005 Gelber Traminer Noble Reserve QbA, Salomon Undhof, Krems, Austria Assorted Coffee or Tea Austr(al)ian Apple strudel with "The spirit of Austria" 80% Stroh rum by Jurg Worther I was a little early, so I stopped in for what I knew would be a good pre-dinner refreshment. The Plaza Athenee has a beautiful spot in the form of the Glaz Bar. The glass, light, and the colours coming in from the neighboring restaurant and the street outside all put me in a good mood, and take me back to the Passedat champagne dinner we had back here in March. Reflections such as this, and the fact that I had in front of me my first decent martini in days, had me particularly mellow. And Reflexions was were I was to be. Upstairs on the third floor, this venue is tucked in beside the hotel’s Japanese restaurant. I was escorted through the restaurant proper, and to the function room tucked in up above on the balcony. This was beautifully laid out with one square table for the guests. The seating was for perhaps 24 or 26. This was very promising. It’s hard for a chef to do his best in a banquet setting. Something like this, with a limited number, is much more manageable in the kitchen. The wines for the evening were handled by “Fin” and their managing director Jan Ganser and director Benjawan Wisootsat were on hand as I cleared the table en route for the wines. They’d brought Dr. Salomon from Salomon Underhof, a quiet, polite man with a soft voice and charming manner. He loved his vineyards, and I was looking forward to hearing him talk about them. In the kitchen was the Plaza’s head chef, Martin Faist, a German cooking in the “new French style”, and with him was Jorg Worther from Carpe Diem in Austria, whose Carpe Diem in Salzberg has been called one of the best restaurants in the world by Conde Naste. Their mark has been to work towards luxury fast food (a trend that I'd noticed In Brussels last year as well). This was excellent. In my thesis I could now evaluate in one fell swoop the underpinnings of culinary political destabilization throughout much of the central Europe, taking in Austria, Germany, and France in one fell swoop. I wasn’t certain how the Australians would fit into this, but I was sure if I had enough to drink I would figure something out. We had a pleasant half hour or so of conversation prior to dinner. This was excellent, as a number of the wine writers from Bangkok had weighed in. Some I knew already from the WGF, and, with a nice, dry, citrusy Undhof Kogl QbA Riesling being perpetually refilled, I was happy to talk with them. And to munch on the canapés. I remember a small ball of foie gras, and a very nice, soft thing of salmon and something white. Okay, it’s hard to take notes with a glass in one hand and food in the other. Part of the talk was of politics of course. Things were becoming better with each hour, it appeared. But another part of our discussion centered upon the abusive excise tax system that so punishes the wine producers and retailers in Thailand. Yes, the Thai have an alcohol problem, with one of the highest consumption rates in the region (and not only when I’m in town), but we somehow doubt that the average rice farmer in Uthai Thani is going to be destroying his life with Burgundies and Languedocs…….there’s a good image in there somewhere. Our first dish was a cute little pair of ice cream cones filled with cucumber and fish and things, and topped off with little bites of fried fish. A little akward to eat, but reminded me a bit of the French Laundry’s signature salmon ice cream cones (I know, there must be a better word, bit if I say ice cream cone, we all know what I mean). The dryness of the Gruner Veltliner (2005) set back against the richness of the filling and the crisp of the cone. Dr. Bertold Salomon talked a little of his wines, and the history of the vineyards. His family had been wine merchants way back when, shipping wine up the Danube and salt back down between Salzburg and Bavaria, until, in 1780, after the reformation of the church properties, they were able to buy the Undhof, the farm for a disbanded Capuchin monastery. A while back the farm had passed into the hands of his brother Erich. But Erich's health has been poor, and the children have little interest in the business, so Bertold stepped in to take things over, and to keep this long standing heritage going. They've concentrated their 20 hectare effort on Riesling and Gruner Veltliner grapes, the Rieslings taking the stonier ground, and the Gruner Veltliners inhabiting the softer loam. They've also rethought their wines, and have put a lot of work into producing drier wines, wines which can be brought to the table early (most of what we were drinking was 2005), or left to develop to greater complexity. As this talk went on a pretty little plate arrived on the table. There was a dollop of basil jelly, and it’s hard to go wrong with basil, the salmon caviar gave an edge of salt, the marinated crab had the soft pully texture I like, and the oyster in the cucumber jelly countered everything else. With this dish, we compared the two Rieslings. Both were dry and refreshing. A lot of fruit, citrus and good roundness in the palate, no cloying sweetness to speak of. Between the two it was a hard choice. I might actually lean a bit towards the Australian, but the Austrian was beautiful as well, with a nice mineral touch. Both, given a bit of time, opened up very well. The two Rieslings were then flanked by the other Gruner Veltliner Reserve, making a well ordered line of whites. I’d take the Reserve over the earlier Gruner, with a much more intense flavour. Still, I admired the Rieslings very much. Around this time a small man in orange underwear came out and pranced about while playing a flute. I believe this was meant to reflect upon Austrian culture. The yabbis came out, and everyone was wondering what a yabbi was. I was thinking at first that they were those thalidomide children of the langoustines, but those are "bugs". They're an Australian crustacean, little min-lobsters, or perhaps more like a crawfish, sweat and tender like a crawfish. The tomatoes weren’t overpowering, and the effect was one of gentle sweetness. The sort of thing you can put in your mouth and go to sleep. Our wine glasses were getting crowded. They poured the Small Hill Red Cuvee Trocken. I like Austrian and German reds, and they’re not commonly found. I’ve had very nice ones in the past in Berlin and Vienna. This was dry, with a floral nose and a nice finish. A bit of softness to it that would go well with the veal. But I must say, I found the veal disappointing. There was nothing wrong with it, but I found it lacking in fat. I suspect that this is just my taste. Now, if he’d braised a big piece of pork belly instead…… The next piece was visually stunning. Slabs of ice, one with a bit of advertising for Otzi - a 42 Below product (those cheerful lads from Kiwiland who were promoting at the Nai Lert last year) and a ‘happy’ message imbedded within, one bracing the shoulder, and the other as a base, with a small glass cup of granite imbedded upon its surface. The granite was very nice, an orange vodka from 42 Below (42 is always the answer) very reminiscent of a gin granite that I’ve started doing. Oh, lest I forget, Otzi was the famous "ice man" found preserved in the Alps. Given my habits, maybe my body will linger on…… This did what it should. It cleared away our palates and prepared us for the next round. The prancing flautist had long since disappeared, and we now had a really neat bit of entertainment. A 5 man Thai group that were working two bongos, an acoustic guitar, and two large didgeridoos. I've always liked that long cicada drone of the didg, and the sound they were coming up with, with the percussion and the light drop of guitar to fill in was really neat. Our next wine glasses filled, we now had the two Aussies, the Cab Merlot and the Shiraz. I let these open up a bit while I admired the meats. Salomon had the opportunity a while ago to become involved in an Australian venture. He'd been looking for an opportunity to make some reds, and settled on the Finniss River near Adelaide. The result is quite satisfying, quite rich and with a good nose after a few minutes. The tenderloin was a fine thing, the tenderloin resting in an abstract of beet and pumpkin sauce, little bits of finger food, like small dim sum nestling around, while the venison cowered on the other side of the plate. Both pieces were juicy, red in the middle, and yielded up their flesh appreciatively. With these I would say I preferred the Shiraz, and called for another glass to be poured. The noodles – spatzle really – were served on the side and shared from a lovely little copper pot. Bright green, and soft to masticate. I ladled out spoon after spoon. Dessert was sheer comfort. The glazed apple walnut pancaked acted as a mop for the sabayon, and cleared my plate while chasing down the Traminer Noble. Now, comparing this noble rot with the di Bartolo Noble One I’d had on the plane, I found this not as pushy in its sweetness, a little prim and reserved, and a good match with the dessert which was already over the top for the sucrose challenged. I had a double espresso to enjoy with the strudel, and had them pour another glass of Shiraz. Where did that last one go? And then it was time to go. The air conditioning was slowly refridgerating the Thais at the table, and others had a long drive back to Pattaya. Me, I felt it was time to return home and get some sleep. I gave the band my card and asked them to email me with details on their next gigs, and then caught a cab back home to collapse. Coups take a lot out of you.

Wear your food with a sense of pride, say I.

I believe firmly in field research! How can you get to the bottom of a glass.....er problem without pounding the pint......er ground. Cheers

Microbreweries would be an even more interesting basis for an article! Who is there out there now? In Thailand we have: Brew Haus (they supply the Don Muang place, as well as Road House BBQ) with their selection including the Honey Bee Pilsener. Tawan Daeng with their own selection, great Thai bar food, and a live band. The Londoner, with a cream bitter (one of my favourites) and a Pilsener. Tauras passed away many years ago. Up in Chiang Mai there's a German brew house over near the Callefour. Cambodia isn't brewing their own yet (rolling, maybe.....) Singapore has a Paulaner Brew House which is much like all the other Paulaners, but..... Singapore also has BrewWerkz down on Clark Quay, which does excellent beers, two of my favourites being the Extra IPA and the heavily malted MouQuay. Who else is out there? Inquiring minds need to know. (and apologies in advance for any misspellings. It's getting late over here)

Beer in South East Asia is very much a colonial import. Probably the first to arrive was kegged in the bellies of the trading ships. I suspect much of that has gone past the sell-by date. But the imperialists (darn their hopped up hides) would have malted away (sorry) before the Islamic ire of much of the south, and so San Miguel's claim would be one of a lone bastion of frothiness in the otherwise flat seas about. Thailand, never being colonized, did not benefit from the social ferment, and came late to the scene. Indochine may, perhaps, lay claim to the early lees, having established Bier La Rue in the Annamese holdings. Their brews stretched along the headwaters of the Mekong, from Saigon to Phnom Penh, to Vientiane, aiding in the mission civilatrice. This in turn has left both Vietnam and Laos with good brewing traditions, the mark of which is if one can drink the beer without refridgeration. Beer Lao easily stands this test (perhaps they still feel the chill of the Cold War when Pils Urquell consulted with them), and 333, Panther, and others in Vietnam can hold their own any day. With Beer Lao, during Pimai in '97, Luang Prabang found itself out of the amber liquid (it wasn't all my fault). There was still Heiniken, Fosters, and others available, but these were left on the shelf. It was Beer Lao or nothing (as a happy note, Beer Lao is now being distributed in Bangkok, but only in the bars, it seems). I recall sitting in Sapa one day, and the fellow across from me asked why I was drinking a Beer La Rue when I could have a Chinese beer for half the price and twice the volume. (The border is a stone's throw off the cliff side). "Do you like drinking that?" I asked. "No," said he. "Case solved". The Cambodian beers are, alas, a loss. There are a few, but none with any real highlights. They fall into quick disrepute, much as the Indonesian beers do. I've got a piece on that somewhere I must dust off.

Catering Your Next Coup (part 2) Wednesday, September 20 I put aside a copy of the Post. There’s nothing like a bold headline of COUP to wake you up. But it seemed that things were settling out. No real problems to report, other than nobody was answering when Thaksin phoned Thailand. It had been declared a national holiday, so things would be quiet. I was luxuriating in not having to wake up at 5 a.m. again. That resulted in a lack of breakfast, so I made up for it with a Beer Lao while I read the paper, aligned my plans with democratic reform, and fretted over what might be the best dining option for this first day of the new regime. But first, the good news. I had my beloved 12” Mac back. It had been returned by the taxi driver. Now I wish I had offered more than the 1000 baht that I’d hastily put up before going to bed. I forecast clear sailing for the rest of the trip. I met up with some out of town friends at the MBK shopping mall. MBK has revamped their food floors. They’ve got a cleaned up version of the standard Thai foodcourt, chits and suchlike with all the great stalls. I really like these, as you know the food’ll be fresh as the office crowd cleans out just about everything every day. That’s on the 6th floor. …. I remember a long time ago being up there and watching Siam Square burning…..but I’m wandering again. My friends weren’t up on the 6th though, they were on the newly opened 5th Avenue on (you guessed it) the 5th. This was an even more modern take on the food court. You get your own individual ATM card, your orders are placed against this, and you pay at the end. Very sleek, very clean, and there’s a live band doing Sinatra covers on the stage. I had a bowl of Ayutthya noodes (peanuts, thick rice noodles, and ground pork) and a red pork curry with rice. But they also had Vietnamese, Singaporean, Japanese, Italian, and Indian. And you could get a gin and tonic. And a pretty good version of “Fly Me To The Moon”. I was beginning to enjoy martial law. If things really got political, maybe there’d be some ska or reggae? My friends were over at Siam City Hotel. This is a good venue for cooking classes, often having something on the go, and C told me they’d be bringing their Morrocan class back in November (where will I be in November?). C’s one of the managers there, and she and I yacked about what was going on (or rather not going on). I also had a box of moon cakes from KL to deliver for M, as she was out of town but C could get them to her. What was happening? Not much. Tanks parked in a few strategic spots, and CNN and BBC were hard to get in some places (but not all). Several of the TV channels were back on. Outings to the Royal Palace had been cancelled, but overall things were quiet. Some bars and restaurants were closed, others weren’t. After a chat and rehydration, it was time to go. There was residual shopping to be done back at the Emporium, and more eating. Small signs of the situation were apparent on the road back. At Asoke there was a three man armed detachment keeping an eye on things. But no roadblocks or checkpoints like we’d experienced elsewhere in the past like in Nepal or the Middle East. Across the street from the Emporium and at the corner of the Dead Artists’ Street there’s a bar called Londoners. Big, spacious, clean, and very well air conditioned. I had a meeting here to collect some things, and to catch up on gossip. Plus, I like their cream bitter. It’s a middle of the road brew, designed to antagonize neither the North nor South of England. Of course, you could argue that this was proactively mediocre, but I find it well suited to the climate. It’s wet, and it’s cold. Me, I’m just wet. Somehow this quick stop ran into a three hour session, as we met C, visiting from San Francisco, and the talk turned to food there, in Shanghai, and in Tokyo. The conversation was good, we got to catch up on politics, and solved most of the world’s problems. My dinner company for that evening called to cancel, however, which was a pity. But this took the pressure off of me to be too presentable, so there was a good side to things. Coming out of the Londoner, the traffic was so light that vehicles were actually moving at a normal rate. An armoured humvee swept by with the .50 caliber roof mount manned but not tracking anything. A long yellow ribbon fluttered from the driver’s window. Dinner was the next concern. So far we had done American (technically, even if I had finished before news of the change came in) with its overtones of South American and South East Asian interventionism, and I’d had some Thai (this is what? The 18th or 19th coup – but the first in 15 or so years). What would be a good counterpoint in terms of revolutionary sensibilities? But the French, of course! With a wonderful history of interventionism across most of the world, one that easily surpasses the Americans. Plus they do very good emulsions. Le Beaulieu is situated on soi 19, in the Sofitel Residences. It’s a staged series of rooms, with a very comfortable wine bar consisting primarily of a long wooden table whereat the chef, owner, and a friend were actively engaged in conversation, the reception, and the dining room. There’s also a cozy little nook up the winding staircase, but I didn’t get to that. I talked for a few moments there with Herve Frerard, the chef, getting his recommendations. He is a sauciere, so he was keenest on the braised veal cheeks. And he felt that he was doing a good job with the fish. Herve has a great pedigree. Amongst others, he’s worked the Grand Vefour in Paris, and with Alain Ducasse. He’s been in Bangkok for a couple of years already, and had wanted a restaurant that would be committed to the best of ingredients. K I ordered a glass of the Santagostin Catarrotto/Chardonnay 2004, and decided to start with a lightly pan fried cantaloupe draped with ham and a chilled cantaloupe soup and a ricotta cheese quesnelle. This comes out a comforting warmth that wraps up the coolness of the ham and the chill of the soup. And the quesnelle helps finish off with some richness. Before that, though, he brought out an amuse bouche of artichoke soup. The immediate reaction to the broth was that there must be a lobster stock locking it down, but, non, it is all artichoke. After that I a slab of duck liver pate, served with some toast and dabs of balsamic. Herve was also pleased with this, the result of a steaming. A little of that pink fleur de sel and this was working out very well for my sense of well being. I’d switched over to the Mionetto Sergie Prasecco/Chardonnay to have something with a little bubble to lift up the foie gras but with a dryness to contrast the texture of the terrine. Herve’s position on corkage is that if someone brings in a very good bottle of wine, then he’ll be happy to work with the customer. Where he puts his foot down, however, is when someone brings in “crap wine” that is an insult to the rest of the ingredients on the table. And what of the big wines? Too often they’re taken solely on the basis of name and common expectations. A wine doesn’t have to cost the bankroll of Tongah in order to work well with the food. Take a good soft goat cheese sometime and try that with a Chardonnay or a Friuli. Next was the fish. A pan seared Murray cod with celeriac puree and sea urchin emulsion. The contrast in the dish is very pretty, soft. Herve corrects me on the nature of the fish, a fresh water item from New Zealand. The flavour of the fish itself is pulled out from the cooking, and the emulsion of uni draws the flavour around your mouth. The uni is very good. He’s sourcing this from Snacks Plus. And as at the WGF, I like the use of celeriac as a puree to underly the food. Next would be the veal cheeks, so I finish the Chardonnay and order a glass of the 2003 Chianti. The texture on these was very nice, not having been allowed to go mushy, and the gelatin just there in the mouth. I admired the black clad ninja staff working the kitchen. The view is wide open, as is the kitchen, and Herve is quite proud of it. It’s a beautiful working space, with enough elbow room for everyone to operate comfortably. He’s using the newer magnetic induction units, and is finding them quite appropriate for commercial cooking. And he also has a thermomix as did William Leduiel at the WGF. The kitchen designer is using this as his presentation unit, as it’s better than anything else that he has at hand for making a convincing sale. A trio of desserts followed; a very pleasant cream brullee served up in a blood orange, and Valrhona chocolate; some baked mango, and a bit of ice cream. Coffee with this, and then I retired back to the wine bar to discuss the world’s matters over an Armagnac with Herve and a couple of Americans that appeared to be back from squash. A bit of this, a bit of that, and it was time to wrap up…..okay, it was a lot of this, and a lot of that. I think the two Americans came away with a misconception of my role in their countries intelligence operations (none whatsoever). As Steven Segal said “I’m just a cook”. My impression? If I was going to overthrow a government, I would find it hard to go wrong with French Mediterranean cuisine, especially of this quality. His ingredients are very good, and the execution is spot on. Herve may strike some as being a bit, well, glum, but I warmed to him quickly. In Bangkok the price strikes one as high, but once you appreciate that the material being used is of the best quality, you can put those issues aside. Could you get a meal of this quality in London, New York, or Moscow for this price? Hah! Now I’m waiting to see what his new menu will look like next week.

Catering Your Next Coup (part 1) Tuesday, September 19 So, with the news all over CNN about the troubles in Bangkok, I know you’re all wondering how should one dine during a coup? I’ll interrupt my writing on the WGF for a bit, and get up to speed on this. I’d had a very long, and not very good day. Up at 5 a.m. to get out of KL, arrived early to make the most of the day, and then found that the fellow occupying my room and who was to have checked out early was nowhere to be found. After that, after a day of shopping in order to utilize time, I returned to find that my computer appeared to be gone. It would appear I didn’t take it out of the taxi when I dragged my weary self home. The staff were very concerned, and we rechecked the lobby and everywhere, but failed to turn up my dear old Apple. What to do? I decided on BBQ. Dana Carron has returned to the restaurant business, and has put up a very attractive little place on the corner of Suriyawongse and Rama IV. Three floors, the topmost of which is a clean looking sports bar, pool tables, darts, tv’s. Dana and I talked a bit about the food. The menu comes on a large solid board, which gives you plenty of time to relax, ponder, and plan as you enjoy a beer or two. Dana’s also got a good Honey Bee Pils on tap, as well as a strong beer. He’s getting this from the same people who supply the upstairs bar at the airport…Beer House, I think. That was always a good detour. With Don Muang closing next week and the move to Souvarnabhumi coming up, I don’t know if the pre-immigration liver wrapped in bacon and micro-brew operation will still be there. We’ll know next week when the move happens, but I’ll miss that. Anyways, I opted on the Philly cheese steak, and crab cakes to start. Dana considers both to be respectable options, and he’s put a lot of work into the crab cakes to get them the right texture and consistency. The cheese steak was just what I needed, comforting slices of good beef nestled under a bed of cheese. A bit of Tabasco and you’re there. What’s a computer or two, after all? I liked the layout of the ground floor dining room. Spacious. There are way too many places nowadays that try to pack in far too many tables. Here there was plenty of room to move around for the staff and customers. And, beer and a meal under my belt, pool seemed like a good way to focus myself. It was while playing a game that CNN made itself known with details of a coup in Bangkok and tanks on the street. After scratching on the 8, I decided this was a good time to get home to Sukhumvit. I got over to Silom, and debated the Sky Train, but it seemed risky if it got cut. I’d’ve cut it if it was me and I wanted to lock things down. Taxis have their own risk, but it’s a lot easier to bail out of one and make it on foot if you have to. I made a passive attempt at bargaining, and then figured that wasting time was not a good thing. My driver was continually talking on his cell. I interrupted at one point to get details, and he told me it appeared that the army had taken over, Khao Sarn was shut, and Pat Pong had just been shut. Oh,yeah, they were also doing things around the government buildings, but we have our priorities in what matters. Then the chatting ladies on the radio went away (“kaaa….kaaa….”) and that familiar old music started playing. I did need to get back to my hotel. But the rest of the trip went well. We dodged a few jams, and made it back. I was, of course, hungry again. I dropped back down a few blocks on Sukhumvit, my passport secured now on my body, and checked out the streetside offerings. There were the usual noodle stands, the broth smelling quite good, fishballs cheerfully waiting for the basket. And there were the usual critter stands – crickets, roaches, red ants – but it was the stewed pork leg that looked best to me. So I ordered a bowl of that, some rice, and a beer Lao (heaven sent to Bangkok only these last few months), and watched and waited. And nothing happened. Oh, well, I sweated quite a bit, and the meat disappeared somewhere, but generally speaking, things were pretty much as normal. Only the lack of police appeared to be a bit odd. There was word that Phetburi was closed down, but not much else. I returned to the room, grabbed some of the pork jerky I’d bought at MBK, poured myself a glass of Wang Nam Kaew chenin blanc (quite easy to drink, from the Khao Yai area….a little fruity) and called it a (relatively) early night.

I'm going to move this from the WGF thread. It calls for more immediacy.

Day 3 – September 12 It was 8 a.m., and there was an insistence clamouring by my ear. I tried glaring at the alarm clock from under the duvet, but that didn’t seem to satisfy it. Finally, I reached over and slugged it one. That made me feel a lot better. I had a 10 a.m. appointment with M and her brother who’d flown in the day before. He was looking for movies and games, and I was in a mind for similar items. But Pantip fills me with dread. 1. It’s not closely connected with a skytrain link 2. It’s hot and sweaty out 3. It’s not well air conditioned inside 4. It’s hot and sweaty out 5. the vendors are a little too aggressive 6. It’s hot and sweaty out 7. Every Westerner that comes in is immediately assumed to be in search of porn flicks. 8. It’s hot and sweaty out Did I mention that it was hot and sweaty out? Unable to handle the timing, I took a taxi early, and managed to arrive 30 minutes before anything happened. This gave me an ample opportunity to observe the street food of Bangkok, some of the best in the world. Deep fried chicken, grilled pork, stewed pig’s leg, fresh rambutan, longan, and pineapple, Coconuts brutally decapitated and straws rammed into their tender innards….wait, I’m obsessing on last night’s protestors. Okay, I was stuck streetside on a hot day waiting for Pantip to open up and get their a/c in order. At last I met up with M and her brother, and we cut back across the street, on the walkover (minor beading action at work on my brow by this point), hung a left, navigated the simmering woks of oil (severe beading and some rivuletting going on), went down two blocks, and the left up the soi. Keep your eyes open on the left side, and you’ll see a simmering 10 gallon pot of stewing pig leg and a scarecrow of white rags shouting into an intercom system. We were here for noodles and soup. Bamii. I left the ordering to M. Her Chinese genes are perfect for this sort of place. Her brother and I discussed the relative attractions of Korean cinema, and how a Korean dental clinic called Old Boy would be a great idea. Okay, with that one we’d put M off of her food a little. The food was great. Like being in Hong Kong or Vancouver. Good moist noodles outside of the soup, and a clear consommé with good sized pieces of red pork drifting amidst the greens. I’ll have to get the photo worked in here somehow in order to do it justice. A soundtrack would work well, too, as you need that squwacking of the intercom system to really appreciate the atmosphere. Pantip was the usual. I had many opportunities to engage in rage against the copyrights. But I was watching my watch and counting down the minutes and thinking how long it would take for me to get back to the Four Seasons. And, of course, after giving him the card and repeating “Four Seasons….Rachadamri….Hyatt…” multiple times, the taxi driver then decided he need to take me to the Sofitel on soi 33 Sukhumvit. After some closely avoided violence, I got him back on track and got back into the hotel by 12:15. A few panicky phone messages, and I was able to get into the class. Let’s Talk About Chocolate (with a shrug) I only just missed the start of the video, wherein they were discussing the harvesting and fermenting of the beans in some place that looked as hot and sweaty as Pantip. Vincent Bourdin came out shortly thereafter. Tall, lanky, and very French. He’s been in the pastries business since ’81, when he wrapped up his apprenticeship in the South of France and went to work at Le Festival in Cannes. When he left France it was for London to work with Pierre Kaufmann in his 3 star La Tante Claire. Some more stints with good chefs, and then in 1992 he joined Valrhona and set up the Singapore office. Pastry consultant….isn’t that a great title? Valrhona’s been active here for two years now. The beautiful sisters at Fine Foods Angliss, Khun Nuntiya and Khun Patcharin have been actively working with them and developing the market for top end chocolate here. And the chocolate and dessert classes here that use Valrhona are always booked out (but more on that when I get to Friday and Emily Luchetti from Farallon. This is the second time that Vincent has been here at the WGF, and there are many of the same faces in the audience. Vincent would take us through three items; the classic macaron, chocolate cake (patience, patience), and chocolate soufflé. His aim is both to highlight the techniques, and the material himself. “As he says, the ingredients are the master of the cuisine. The chef is just the helper.” We began with the macarons – macarons ivoire framboise. The macaron is an old French tradition from Italy, making use of the most ubiquitous of pastry ingredients – almond powder, found in almost all pastries in the world, a common taste from the Mediterranean (I quote Vincent). The almond powder must be very fine. His preference, in rank is Spain, Italy, or the South of France. This causes a bit of stir in the audience, as almond powder is not commonly available in Bangkok. So, he gave directions for making it on your own, the important part is to beware of the oil that’s going to come out. Drop in a bit of sugar, and do a two pass blending, moving the mix from the first blender to a small coffee blender. While the blender is going, we’re told that they’ll be bringing a production line of chocolate up from the Philippines later this week for the Afternoon Tea. We’ll have the opportunity to taste the different stages of the production, and see how far away in flavour the original pods are from the finished product. You know, at times, you have to wonder how people started eating some of these things. Really, to get chocolate, you need to let the pods ferment, which means letting them go rotten. I don’t know about you, but I don’t often eat the things I find down behind my couch. But at sometime somebody did, then they decided to dry and roast it, and then they decided to grind it. And then they drank it. Okay, yeah, I’ll drink just about anything, so maybe it does make sense. Meanwhile, the KitchenAide was having its evil way with Etienne. Vincent turned his attention back to the work, bringing out a laser thermometer to check the temperature in the bowl. To whip the whites, you need the temperature to be write to fix the air to the fat. Then he worked his mix of almond powder and sugar into a paste, effectively the translation of marzipan – beautifully shiny, between runny and solid. “The French vocabulary to express cooking is uniquely French”. Liquids are always shiny, Whipped objects are matte. When you introduce air into a liquid it becomes matte, and so you can tell if something is not as it should be. By this time we’re piping things out. He pipes vertically to display the dough on the paper. For his part, he believes in parchment paper, Silicon mats can be a good alternative, with a better chance of being round, but he’s used to what he does, so…eh, bien (how do you describe that Gallic shrug?). We’ll be filling these with framboise, but you can do much of anything. He prefers black olives, himself, returning to the Mediterranean flavours. In France now, it has become fashionable to include foie gras in the macarons, going for savouries. Meanwhile the macarons go out of the way, and we turn to the cake. He uses a saw knife for the chocolate. This gives you a safe grip on the material as you break it into manageable pieces after you bring it out into the warm room. And for his part, he recommends that everyone buy a wine cellar so that they can keep their chocolate in it. As an alternative to a brick of chocolate, Khun Nuntiya was showing me later that Valrhona sells large bags of chocolate medallions, which are easier to work into a melt. A question came up on the use of honey. As he says, it is the easiest inverted sugar to work with, one that won’t crystallize easily. But then he launches into a tirade against the modern evil of flat bottomed bowls. How can you mix something in small quantities if the bottom isn’t round? This in turn leads to a diatribe on some people referring to cream as a fat. Logically it is as water. Cocoa is a fat, with the cocoa butter therein. And what is an emulsion? No air is introduced. The mixing of water and cocoa is an emulsion. If air was involved tit would be a foam. As in mayonnaise you start the mixing from the middle, taking the elasticity from the middle and slowly bringing it out as you introduce more hot liquid into the middle, bringing the liquid into the powder. If he had wanted to introduce air, he would have pulled centre to edge and turned and folded. And what is the proper temperature for the cocoa? It should be comfortable in your hand; it should melt in your hand normally. And that lead to a serious display of continental outrage. Why would you not want chocolate to melt in your hand? By putting all of these additives into the chocolate, you are making life easier for the manufacturer, you do nothing for the taste of the chocolate which is what should matter to the consumer. You create a chewy something that is no longer chocolate. So there! And, while things are baking, we turn to the soufflé au chocolate grand cru guanaja. He mixed the egg whites to the point where you could do shadow puppets of beaked birds. The final put together went without any problems, and then we all sat in anticipation of the dessert. Okay, to get there, we had to work through the salad, which was just the right thing to start the day with….or rather the afternoon. And then the fish was alright. But we weren’t there for such trifles. We were there for dessert. No….wait…..trifle is a dessert. Never mind. We wanted chocolate. We debated the relative charms. The cake was very pleasant, softly reeking of vanilla. The soufflé presented a wonderful crisp skin on the top, and an even silkiness in the texture once you were in. The macaron, however, was the one we liked the best, with the strong raspberry taste dominating and bringing a smile to the lips (along with little flecks of red). And then it was time for a swim, check out the new tuxedo, and get ready for Michael Mina’s dinner. to be continued.....

Catering Your Next Coup (part 1) So, with the news all over CNN about the troubles in Bangkok, I know you’re all wondering how should one dine during a coup? I’ll interrupt my writing on the WGF for a bit, and get up to speed on this. I’d had a very long, and not very good day. Up at 5 a.m. to get out of KL, arrived early to make the most of the day, and then found that the fellow occupying my room and who was to have checked out early was nowhere to be found. After that, after a day of shopping in order to utilize time, I returned to find that my computer appeared to be gone. It would appear I didn’t take it out of the taxi when I dragged my weary self home. The staff were very concerned, and we rechecked the lobby and everywhere, but failed to turn up my dear old Apple. What to do? I decided on BBQ. Dana Carron has returned to the restaurant business, and has put up a very attractive little place on the corner of Suriyawongse and Rama IV. Three floors, the topmost of which is a clean looking sports bar, pool tables, darts, tv’s. Dana and I talked a bit about the food. The menu comes on a large solid board, which gives you plenty of time to relax, ponder, and plan as you enjoy a beer or two. Dana’s also got a good Honey Bee Pils on tap, as well as a strong beer. He’s getting this from the same people who supply the upstairs bar at the airport…Beer House, I think. That was always a good detour. With Don Muang closing next week and the move to Souvarnabhumi coming up, I don’t know if the pre-immigration liver wrapped in bacon and micro-brew operation will still be there. We’ll know next week when the move happens, but I’ll miss that. Anyways, I opted on the Philly cheese steak, and crab cakes to start. Dana considers both to be respectable options, and he’s put a lot of work into the crab cakes to get them the right texture and consistency. The cheese steak was just what I needed, comforting slices of good beef nestled under a bed of cheese. A bit of Tabasco and you’re there. What’s a computer or two, after all? I liked the layout of the ground floor dining room. Spacious. There are way too many places nowadays that try to pack in far too many tables. Here there was plenty of room to move around for the staff and customers. And, beer and a meal under my belt, pool seemed like a good way to focus myself. It was while playing a game that CNN made itself known with details of a coup in Bangkok and tanks on the street. After scratching on the 8, I decided this was a good time to get home to Sukhumvit. I got over to Silom, and debated the Sky Train, but it seemed risky if it got cut. I’d’ve cut it if it was me and I wanted to lock things down. Taxis have their own risk, but it’s a lot easier to bail out of one and make it on foot if you have to. I made a passive attempt at bargaining, and then figured that wasting time was not a good thing. My driver was continually talking on his cell. I interrupted at one point to get details, and he told me it appeared that the army had taken over, Khao Sarn was shut, and Pat Pong had just been shut. Oh,yeah, they were also doing things around the government buildings, but we have our priorities in what matters. Then the chatting ladies on the radio went away (“kaaa….kaaa….”) and that familiar old music started playing. I did need to get back to my hotel. But the rest of the trip went well. We dodged a few jams, and made it back. I was, of course, hungry again. I dropped back down a few blocks on Sukhumvit, my passport secured now on my body, and checked out the streetside offerings. There were the usual noodle stands, the broth smelling quite good, fishballs cheerfully waiting for the basket. And there were the usual critter stands – crickets, roaches, red ants – but it was the stewed pork leg that looked best to me. So I ordered a bowl of that, some rice, and a beer Lao (heaven sent to Bangkok only these last few months), and watched and waited. And nothing happened. Oh, well, I sweated quite a bit, and the meat disappeared somewhere, but generally speaking, things were pretty much as normal. Only the lack of police appeared to be a bit odd. There was word that Phetburi was closed down, but not much else. I returned to the room, grabbed some of the pork jerky I’d bought at MBK, poured myself a glass of Wang Nam Kaew chenin blanc (quite easy to drink, from the Khao Yai area….a little fruity) and called it a (relatively) early night.

I'll switch over temporarily to "Dining Arrangements for your next coup" once I can get my stuff on a USB and to a cafe.

Yup, check out chubby hubby. Those guys are pretty good, and a lot more dedicated than I about keeping up to date. However, I'll stop having fun really soon and try and catch up.

What can make it even more fun is when, after you've finally accustomed yourself to the store, and have a comfort level on what's where, they decide to remodel and randomly move all of the stock around. That can really make your day when you've rushed in to beat prayer, wanting only to grab one or two items you need quickly.

I just tried L'Opera over on Piccolo Walk and had an interesting dish. Dalen, the chef there (or was that meant to be Darren?) had wanted to do something with a Milanese bent, so he had this pasta dish down with red caviar, vodka, anchovies, garlic, ikura, and capers. But he had the waitress come out and warn me not to eat it. A number of clients had had it and had complained. Well, I figured it was worth a shot. If you like salt, it was great. I like salt. The anchovies dominate, but the capers and the big chunky mushroom bits carry a certain amount of authority as well. Pair this up with the house red (I'd already spent two hours in the lounge punishing the Chardonnay) a good enough Syrah-Merlot, and you had a good meal to get started on. After that, I did two more meals. But it's almost 1:00 a.m. here, and I need to get up at 6. Cheers

The Four Seasons Bangkok has some of the most gracious of staff, so I'm certain they'd do their best. I'm in the lounge now with a Long Flat Chardonnay trying to catch up. The Michael Mina dinner was good. Caviar always makes a good opener. More soon. Peter

Day 2 – September 11 - evening “Foie gras is cruelty to animals! Foie gras is animal torture! You should be ashamed of yourselves for eating foie gras!” At first we’d thought that it was a group brought in to serenade the dinner, their voices were so happy and cheerful. You expect that activists should be able to build up a decent level of indignation when they assault the Bastille, but there was a definite chirpiness and glee in their voices. I looked down at the beautiful plate in front of me, two pieces of grilled Japanese eel bracing and innocent slab of terrine of foie gras quivering between their shoulders. Overcome with glee, I dug in. Michael Ginor Hudson Valley Foie Gras, New York Terrine of Hudson Valley Foie Gras and Japanese Eel Apple Emulsion Laurent-Perrier Brut L-P Butter Poached Lobster and Seared Foie Gras Parsnip Mousseline and Beet Glaze Laurent-Perrier Cuvee Rose Brut Roasted Squab and Foie Gras Creamy Polenta and Mostarda Di Cremona Beef Tenderloin Foie Gras flan and Truffle Ragout Laurent-Perrier Brut Millesime 1997 Appricot Ravioli with Armagnac Raspberry Filling Almond Milk Shooter Mascaron de Ginestet Sauternes 2003 Honestly, I missed most of the show. I was in a booth on the side with two of my favourite Bangkok gourmands, CL and her brother. We heard the furor, and caught a glimpse of the Canadian females being graciously ushered out by the Four Seasons. I caught just a brief glimpse of comfortable shoes as they were exited. I suspect these were the same group that were outside of Kentucky Fried Chicken down on Silom a few days ago. I did read in the Nation today (September 13) that Michael Ginor had heard the fuss from the kitchen, and had come out to see the protestors himself and listen to their concerns. Their view of foie gras methods and what actually happens (at least in the Hudson Valley operation) were somewhat divergent, and Michael invited them to come to visit and he would give them a tour to help them better understand what goes on. Historically, foie gras was the dish of the Pharoahs, the geese and ducks fattening themselves in the Nile Delta prior to their migrations. They natural gorge themselves until they’re packed in fat and ready to travel. I can relate to that. We’d opened with the Californian Zinfandel to start again. While I appreciated the crispness and cool that I’d enjoyed the night before, I was a little concerned how this would do with the forthcoming champagnes. I was looking forward to the Laurent-Perrier. They’d been magnificent the year before, and I’d enjoyed them even more when they covered the Passedat dinner at Reflexions in March. They opened with the Brut – 45% chardonnay, 40% Pinot Noir, and 15% of other varietals. It’s a good, refreshing champagne, lightened by the chardonnay. I liked this better as an opener than when they had put it in the middle of the courses last year. And with the thick flavours on the plate before me….errrr, well, that used to be on the plate before me. Anyways, it’s a good match. I figured it was a good match with the conversation, as well, and the staff were kind enough to come by with another pour. And then they brought the cuvee rose. This is a pure pinot noir, aged four years, and yielding in a nice even bubble field….oooh, here’s a good new term! I wonder if there’s a way to explain champagne in terms of quantum physics? The bubbles are both here and there simultaneously? I’ll have to go back to my text books. Next up was the butter poached lobster and seared foie gras, a dish to be admired for its faultless assault upon the arteries. The parsnip mousseline gave a nice base to things, and the beet glaze just topped up the sweetness. How to describe it? A very full mouth. Match this with the baby-skin nose on the cuvee rose, and I was very happy. And then they poured the 97 Millesime. Last year they hadn’t done any of their vintages, so this was something I’d looked forward to. 45% Chardonnay and 55% Pinot Noir with a 6 year aging process in the cellars. And then I had them pour it again. It was pretty good. The foie gras came out for another visit, this time topped with roasted squab. Last year we were concerned that the bird was a little underdone, but that was by design, as shown in Singapore as well (oh rara avis). Still, know your audience. Michael brought the birds out a little more cooked this time, and the tables were notably happier. There was a beautiful glaze, and the polenta underneath was a perfect mop to pick up the juices that were leaking through. I was so happy I had them pour some more of the 97. I found the tenderloin had crept up upon me. It looked beautiful. And the texture on the flan was a wonderful thing in the mouth. But this wonderfully subtle dish was out of place. You would almost have wanted to take this up front, before the intense flavours of the other dishes had had their wanton way with your palate. That’s the problem in a nutshell, my tastes were becoming jaded. I had them pour another glass of the 97. Dessert was good, but, as I’ve noted before, I’m not much of a dessert man. It was good, I recall that I moved through it very quickly, but also I found the sauterne to be wonderful. Was it as good as the Moelleux Grave Superieur from last year? Tough question. I’ll need to find an excuse to have both side by side. I pondered this over another glass of the 97. At long last the champagne was done (I didn’t want to insult it by rushing away) and we retired to the lobby for whiskey. In the past we would take our after dinner drinks in the restaurant or in Aqua, but now we’re sitting in one of the most beautiful rooms in the world, with the benefit of the jazz in the corner, and the wonderful serving staff. CL and I share a passion for books on cooking. She haunts Amazon and Kinokuniya, and her home suffers like mine, with the weight of the paper slowly bearing down upon the foundations. This means that we can spend hours trading titles and ISBN numbers, and going back over recipes and details. But then, all too early, the Sandman came to take me. The next day would be a morning shopping trip to Pantip. I had to gird my nerves.

Doesn't the terminology come from the kyuu and dan ratings in go (and the martial arts, come to think of it?)?

People, keep posting! I have to do two days in KL on the 17th and 18th, and it's not my money, so I'm looking for good ideas. so far, the chinese kitchen at the Ritz has a good review, as does the Zhang Kitchen. Anyone else with good ideas?