Australian chef David Thompson is in the dining room of his Nahm restaurant in Bangkok, waxing lyrical about what makes Thai cooking so special. “It’s a complex array of flavours, textures and seasonings that all coalesce into an elegant balance and that’s the genius of Thai food,” he says. “It’s at odds with what Western food is, which is usually a distillation of one or two ingredients to arrive at a clear and precise finish. Thai food is the opposite; it’s juggling five, six, seven, or even 20 flavours that create a sequence of tastes that is seamless and therefore creates a pleasing, unjumbled balance and harmony.”
Thompson, who has been visiting Thailand for a quarter of each of the past 25 years, says this complex harmony is typical of Thai culture in general. “If you look at the architecture, especially if you’ve been to the Royal Temple, you’ll see it’s a mad jumble of colours of arabesques and swirls of various shapes and textures that would make one giddy – and could be called gauche and brash and just absolutely unacceptable in the West – but for some reason here it works,” he says. “And it’s the same with their food.”
Thompson opened Nahm in September 2010 in the 171-room Metropolitan hotel in Bangkok’s central business district; where I’ve booked in to break my journey from Sydney before flying south to the Andaman coast. Nahm Bangkok’s pedigree will be known to many travellers; its sister restaurant in London, opened in 2002, was the first Michelin-starred Thai restaurant in Europe. Establishing a restaurant in Bangkok has allowed Thompson to evolve and modify some of his celebrated dishes. Aside from having greater access to traditional ingredients (mostly wild herbs and spices), he has found himself discarding many Western techniques he had unquestioningly considered universal. He also has a tougher crowd to please now. “When we were doing testing here, a lot of the recipes just didn’t work as well as they did in London, so there was a wholesale reconsideration of almost every recipe in order to see how it could work,” he says. “But then each was also tested with a lot of Thais who, for some reason, had a lot of opinions to offer,” he observes dryly.
In fact, Thompson has profound respect for Thai tradition and a comment taken out of context when the restaurant opened – that Thai cooking was in decline and he hoped to arrest that – caused him much anguish. Aside from the training he is offering locals in the kitchen, Thompson aims to establish a library of older Thai recipe books, to arrest the loss of culinary culture he perceives in busy modern lives. “Ultimately, we can give the Thais access to this wide-ranging, more traditional type of cooking that’s often been forgotten, so there’s a whole library of reference for ambitious cooks who are impassioned to try and cook food in a Thai way, not tainted with a Western interpretation,” he says. “Then they can interpret it in their own Thai way and I think that’s an important thing to do.”
Situated in the heart of the diplomatic quarter of the city, the restaurant attracts a diverse crowd: Thompson estimates around 60 per cent locals, of whom 50 per cent are Thai and 50 per cent expats, with the balance made up of the hotel’s guests or other tourists. The hotel itself is a practical solution for business travellers, or guests like me who wish to break an international journey with a night in the capital. In addition to the celebrated restaurant, the hotel (part of the Como group) has a spa – Como Shambhala Urban Escape –offering a range of massages that reduce tension and restore energy among its menu of treatments. I opt for their signature message, which does the trick of unbending my long-haul kinks and readying me for dinner and sleep.
Back in the restaurant that evening, I sample a range of delicacies from the Nahm menu. Thompson has made an effort to represent the diverse regional cooking of Thailand; including yam dtakrai, a lemongrass salad with pork, prawns, squid and roasted coconut from the northern part of the central plains, and geng gati bpuu tarlae, a mud crab curry from the southern provinces.
The next day, I am on an early morning shuttle to the airport and the staff have kindly prepared a little breakfast box: small, perfect French pastries, fresh fruit, water and juice. I collect a copy of the Bangkok Post to catch up on the news and I’m on my way.
COASTAL KRABI
Only an hour south by plane from Bangkok is the coastal town of Krabi; an area made famous by the film The Beach, starring Leonardo DiCaprio. Inverted islands rise from the vivid green Andaman Sea, amidst the Krabi National Marine Park. On the park’s edge and nestling into the Phranang peninsula is the Rayavadee resort; 26 acres of coconut groves, surrounded on each side by limestone cliffs or ocean. The sensation of being pleasantly isolated is highlighted by the fact the resort is only accessible by boat – a movie-star moment.
On arrival, the staff line the beach in starched uniforms, smiling and offering the standard Thai greeting; hands together in prayerful position, head touched momentarily to them and the beautiful sing-song “sawadee ka” – a gesture and phrase I find myself returning countless times in the week ahead. Each of us is also handed a small garland of fragrant jasmine (phuang malai) and, once we move into reception, a refreshing mocktail of coconut milk and lime juice.
The Rayavadee is like a small village, made up of 98 two-story pavilions – some with private gardens and hot tubs – and four beachfront villas, suitable for larger family groups. There are also four restaurants, a boutique, spa and vast swimming pool incorporated in the resort, making it unnecessary to leave for the duration of your holiday if total rest is what you seek. Quiet golf buggies move throughout the resort all day, so you can always thumb a ride from one location to another and with
this much space, it is not hard to find a quiet corner. In the days I often find myself the only one in the pool, due to the popularity of the beaches.
With temperatures averaging 30 degrees year-round in Krabi, it is only natural to rise early with the sun and wind your way through the expansive garden to start with a swim in the gentle ocean waters of Phranang Beach. The chatty monkeys are already swinging in daredevil arcs across the limestone cliff faces. Staff will warn you not to get too close to the “especially naughty” brown monkeys but observing them with a little distance is fine and the antics of the babies as they negotiate spindly branches with a precarious sense of balance is endearingly comical.
The garden itself contains a magnificent collection of more than 300 exotic species, many of them rare flowers interspersed with koi ponds full of water lilies. It suffered extensive saltwater damage after the 2004 tsunami but has been lovingly restored. Unlike some of their less fortunate neighbours, there was no loss of life at Rayavadee when the wave struck. A one-hour warning from Phuket gave plenty of time to evacuate to the mountains, plus the tsunami’s force was diminished by the vertical islands off the coastline.
Of these, Happy Island stands so close to the resort it is possible to cross to it from Phranang Beach via a sandbank at low tide. It also forms the focus of other fun activities throughout the day, including snorkelling and kayaking. Further down the beach, picturesque wooden longboats are bobbing offshore, waiting to ferry the staff between the village and the resort.
My exercise plans are unambitious and I opt to swim the length of the beach to float in the welcome shade of towering limestone cliffs. It’s at the end of this swim on my first morning that I come across Phranang Cave (the Princess Cave, as it is also known) at the far end of the beach. From a distance I can see that it is full of garlands of marigolds, bright ribbons and other offerings stacked on and around a central platform. As I paddle closer to the wafting smell of incense, I’m surprised to see the Cathedral-like structure’s cool dark interior is stacked full of hundreds of giant carved wooden phalluses (or ‘lingams’). Although the cave is now a tourist attraction, fishermen and their families still make offerings of flowers and incense to the mythical Princess of the Cave, in hope of safe sea travels.
The origins of the shrine are unknown and there are different versions of the legend of Phranang. The most common tells of the widow of a fisherman who lost his life at sea. The couple is said to have lived in a cave and when she died her spirit inhabited this cave, awaiting her husband’s return. Another legend has it that Phranang is the ghost of a seafaring Indian princess who was shipwrecked off the Krabi coast and took residence in the cave. The lingams are a symbol of the Hindu god Shiva and are associated with fertility and virility.
Also set on Phranang Beach are two of the resort’s restaurants; the more traditional Khua Phranang in which I later sample the most memorable dessert of my life (a jasmine panacotta with jasmine rice-flavoured ice-cream served in an edible basket of crisp, fine biscuit) and the extraordinary Grotto; a restaurant entirely housed in a sandy-floored cave overlooking the sea. For breakfast, Raya Dining at Rayavadee’s centre is the place to be for an unlimited buffet taken outside as huge, soft blossoms drift down from overhanging trees. A fourth restaurant – the Raitalay Terrace – overlooks Railay Beach on the resort’s other side; a great place for a light lunch and beer, taking in the view from the shady verandah.
In the spirit of fast-tracked relaxation, I make an appointment at the serene Rayavadee spa, where a sophisticated mix of tradition and innovation inform a broad offering of massages, facials and body treatments. By now, completely given over to southern Thailand’s therapeutic embrace of fragrance – jasmine, marigold, ginger and ylang ylang abound – I opt for an aromatic massage, which begins with a footbath and moves onto the table for a light pressure massage with essential oils. I enjoy a soothing herbal tea in the spa’s reception area before wandering back to my villa for some quiet time.
For those on a longer visit and wanting to leave the cocoon of the hotel, there is a host of activities to choose from in and around the resort; for visitors seeking quintessentially Thai experiences there are cooking classes, elephant treks and a sunset cruise aboard the beautifully restored Siamese junk, the Pla Luang. Day trips can also be made to nearby bays and islands, exploring mangrove forests and sandy beaches. Athletic holidaymakers will appreciate the scuba diving and free use of water sports equipment, and the area is also famous for its rock climbing on the limestone cliffs.
LUXURY AT THE SAROJIN
Two hours’ drive from Krabi’s Rayavadee lies a distinctly different luxury escape; The Sarojin at Khao Lak, also on the Andaman Sea but with an altogether different outlook, onto an uninterrupted seascape. The peaceful waters on which the hotel is built are protected by coral reefs and its adjoining white, sandy beach is eleven kilometres long.
As peaceful as it is now, the area still carries the memories of the Boxing Day tsunami. Five thousand people died in this region as a result of the tsunami. The resort itself – which had just been completed but not yet opened – was devastated by the giant wave, the force of which tore up all but one giant ficus tree from the garden, broke every window and lodged fridges in villa ceilings. Miraculously, only one member of staff died in the disaster as everyone had been given Christmas off in preparation for launching.
Not to be deterred, The Sarojin’s British owners Andrew and Kate Kemp rallied their staff to assist in the rebuilding of the resort, keeping them all employed throughout the period of closure and naming a residence in honour of each of them. (Natthanit’s photo and certificate of appreciation hang in my restful residence, which has its own plunge pool and cabana). It is too recent for anyone to pretend the event doesn’t still weigh heavily on those who live in the area, but The Sarojin’s story is – for the most part – a happy one, that speaks volumes about loyalty, commitment and determination.
Assisting the intrepid Kemps in achieving their vision is their ‘Imagineer’ Dawid; a charming South African via London, who is attired in a safari suit the first time we meet. It is Dawid’s job to dream up customised ‘experiences’ for the guests. Leafing through some of the offerings reveals champagne or a lovely glass of wine as a common theme to the pampering, which extends from elephant rides to milk baths, a lot of fine dining and stunning locations – both on-site and in the nearby national park. The resort’s Ficus restaurant is the only place I’ve been to where the staff inquire, “Sparkling wine?” with every breakfast order. Fun, pampering and relaxation seem to be the order of the day and personalising the experience is a strong ethos of the business.
Having shaken my city lag, I’m keen to try some off-site activities in Khao Lak and there is no shortage to choose from under the supervision of the Imagineer. In one single, unforgettable day I go fishing with a local in the morning; take a ride down ‘Little Amazon’ in a colourful pleat boat, between looming banyan trees that house giant pythons; visit the wet markets and learn to cook by the Takuapa riverbank under the tutelage of the resort’s chefs. The reward for our hard work is dining al fresco on our labours, with linen tablecloths under large shade umbrellas. Each of us is also photographed with the chefs and by the time we return from dinner that night, a framed certificate is on the bed “for successfully creating a selection of Thai dishes to The Sarojin standards for presentation and taste” along with the recipes and a commemorative chef’s jacket. It sits alongside the madcap little towel sculptures that appear nightly when the room is turned down.
A popular experience with guests is dinner by a nearby waterfall in Lam Ru National Park, by the light of 400 candles. The event is already booked when I stay, but we take the opportunity to pop up ahead of the dinner guests’ arrival, to sneak a glass of champagne by candlelight. A table has been set with white linens and the rocky path up to the waterfall and natural swimming hole has been lined with hundreds of candles. It is already special, but diners wishing to raise the stakes can arrive by elephant.
Returning to The Sarojin, we opt for a degustation dinner hosted by Imagineer, Dawid, who has also selected the wine matches and graciously talks us through each of the dishes and wines. Retired New Zealand lawyer and wine collector Sam Bonifant is The Sarojin’s wine director. While his own cellars are primarily in England and New Zealand, part of his impressive collection has also found its way to Thailand. The wine list he has created for the resort contains more than 200 selections, from both the old and new worlds, all meticulously stored to protect them from the climate.
Another night we take our dinner on the beach, which has been converted to a beautiful outdoor dining room lit with tiki lamps, set inside a generous semi-circular smorgasbord of fresh foods, to be cooked on demand. While there is plenty to do on site, The Sarojin also makes a point of encouraging guests to explore the surrounding towns, beaches and national parks. Also at guests’ disposal is the luxury 38-foot cruiser Lady Sarojin and its crew, for picnics and marine park exploration.
All that remains for me is to test the Pathways Spa, with its treatment rooms open to the elements. I select the choke dee (good luck) massage oil for my traditional Thai massage; a blend of ylang ylang, bergamot and geranium which is said to “create a romantic feeling”. The sound of the ocean just beyond a living screen of bamboo is more soothing than any new age soundtrack will ever be and I drift in and out of wakefulness.
When it comes time to reluctantly leave The Sarojin, it’s not necessary to backtrack to Krabi, as Phuket airport is only an hour away and air-conditioned transportation can be arranged with the hotel staff. In two decades of travelling, I feel some shame I only ever factored Thailand in as the stopover point to visit friends in Europe. Now I see it as the ideal halfway point to rendezvous with those same friends, any time of the year, in a tropical paradise.
