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By Chris White
Back in the mid-Nineties, when I was a Peace Corps volunteer in
Northeastern Thailand, the luncheon buffet at Lord Jim’s was my
Big Rock Candy Mountain. After months in the field, my cravings
for something other than papaya salad would intensify until finally
I’d take the five-hour bus ride to Bangkok, head down river for
the Oriental, for three hours of gorging on lamb, smoked salmon,
sushi, chocolate mousse, oysters, cherries jubilee and lobster tails.
There was no food so comforting, an afternoon there was nearly as
good as going all the way back home.
It was with this affection in mind that, when planning my parents’
recent vacation, I arranged for the last dinner of their trip to
be at Lord Jim’s. While we were in no hurry for the holiday’s conclusion,
we were all looking forward to this treat-especially on those evenings
at the Similan Islands when the only fish was cooked to the consistency
of McDonald’s French fries!
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Lord Jim’s by night is a completely different restaurant. Yes,
the sushi bar is still in place, as are the stations where the filet
mignons, tandoori chickens and the desserts take noontime residence,
but the energy of patrons wandering as children in a candy store,
the brightness of tropical light flooding through the floor-to-ceiling
windows, is supplanted by mellow tones, as cool as the live jazz
played by the piano/bass combo on the upper deck of the restaurant.
At night, the two-tone varnished wood floor shines-one can imagine
couples in black evening attire swing-dancing across its glossy
surface. The Chao Phraya River takes on a whole new personality,
treating patrons to views of shadowy ships, running lights glowing
in the darkness.
There’s an unmistakably underwater feel about Lord Jim’s, accentuated
by a layered ceiling, cut in a waved pattern with halogen lights
beaming like the sun through clear water. If I let my mind wander,
I could feel a certain affinity with the mermaid warrior, who, in
her bubbling tank, guards the foyer between the bar and dining room.
For we were as submerged as she-in pure gastronomical delight.
From the first notes of the giant spring rolls-grease free, exploding
with fresh vegetables, our conversation descended to pre-lingual
humming, umms, and yums. The edamame cappuccino, a dainty morsel
of yellowtail carpaccio in creamy soybean soup and the oysters rockefeller-plump,
still juicy, with just the right compliment of hollandaise and spinach,
provided a delightful contrast between an interesting new dish and
an old favourite.
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Dinner was paced nicely by our servers, who attended our needs
without hovering, but it was the main course that really made the
evening. The creative menu includes such fancies as tuna steak with
lentil stew; yoghurt marinated lamb with curried vegetable samosa
and US strip loin with Yorkshire pudding. The creations are the
result of French Chef Dominique Bugnand’s formal culinary arts study
intermingled with flavours that he’s picked up in his travels, particularly
in New Orleans and Asia. It goes without saying that the wine list
is extensive, featuring vintages from every continent, but especially
from France.
My father chose one of Lord Jim’s signature dishes, the char-grilled
spiced salmon tournedos. My mother opted for the equally excellent
crispy-fried trout fillet, but I felt that I’d won the competition
for best meal with the veal cutlet, glazed with tarragon-macadamia
nut butter. Macadamia nut butter had piqued my curiosity, would
it be heavy like peanut butter? How would it go with veal?
The butter came from a cow; infused with the macadamias and tarragon.
In a word-scrumptious; the veal so tender you could have cut it
with a spoon.
As we lay back in our chairs, revelling in the afterglow of dessert-a
generous plate of fresh Thai mango, crispy banana/apple marmalade
dumplings with honey and coconut sorbet and complimentary, assorted
chocolates. Chef Bugnand stopped by to share his cooking philosophy,
saying that the secret to cooking is in the pleasure, the love of
the art. “It is the most easy thing for me; just the feeling, the
touch, the smell; I use all my senses.”
Here was a man who obviously delighted in his work, a rare soul
who gets paid to do that which he loves best. As I took the last
chocolate, dark, smooth, and cool in my fingers, I inhaled its richness
before savouring its flavour. Here on assignment, I was his mirror,
paid to indulge my own passion, in a privileged moment where all
my senses were aroused and applied; submerged in the splendour of
both the atmosphere and the feast.
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