If our experience in Guangzhou illustrates anything, however, it’s that some medicine is hard to swallow…or to incorporate into a menu. “Guangzhou isn’t ready for us yet,” says Vongerichten as we depart our hotel for the airport. “If nothing else, the city will serve as a good contrast to where we’re going next: Bangkok.”
BANGKOK: The Pursuit of Flavor
“If I had to choose one dish to eat for the rest of my life, it would be tom yum,” says Vongerichten, timing his words carefully to land between ladlefuls of the steaming soup. Having left the spice stalls of Old Bangkok, we’ve navigated our way through a series of back alleys and meandering side streets to our present location: a scruffy street-corner cafe in an aging Thai-Chinese neighborhood called Suan Phlu.
Most travelers walk right past this ragtag collection of aluminum tables and tattered blue umbrellas, never bothering to wonder what the attractive, raven-haired cook is stirring on her stove. But those who sit down are treated to what might very well be the best bowl of tom yum in Thailand. Hints of kaffir lime, lemongrass, tamarind, and chili peppers blend seamlessly in a broth that is as clear as water. In fact, the broth is so delicious that one almost forgets about the tofu dumplings, slices of tender pork, bean sprouts, and fried fish balls that rest at the bottom of the bowl.
“It’s clean…simple…perfect,” says Vongerichten. “It represents everything that I try to bring to my own cooking.” It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him during our trip. He has abandoned his one-of-everything policy and is fully engrossed in a
50-cent bowl of tom yum. He eats in relative silence. Pleasure has seduced business.
Just as other great chefs have their signature ingredients or dishes—Mario Batali’s beef cheeks, Nobu Matsuhisa’s black cod and miso, and Daniel Boulud’s paupiette of sea bass—Vongerichten has tom yum. It serves as a wellspring for the chef, connecting him to his past and inspiring his future. Indeed, so important is the soup to Vongerichten’s cooking that tom yum (or some variation thereof) appears on nearly all of his menus. At Spice Market, for example, tom yum is enhanced with delicate shrimp dumplings in a light lemongrass broth flavored with
nam pla (fish sauce) and lime juice. At Jean Georges, it’s reinvented with steamed halibut, honshimeji mushrooms, lemon zest, and Thai basil. From one basic dish, Vongerichten imagines an infinite number of incarnations.
Noticing our gusto, the pretty Thai cook brings over a fresh batch of tom yum, giving Vongerichten an excuse to dive into another bowl. But with the sun well past its zenith, it’s time to make our way to the last stop on today’s tour, a nameless eatery known to locals as Jesus Noodles. “It isn’t within walking distance, though, so we’ll have to take taxis,” says Rob McKeown, our guide and the creative director of Mangkut, a consultancy specializing in Asian cuisine and culture. “Or we could hop in a
tuk tuk. Let me know when you guys are ready.”
Every city has its own unique mode of transportation, and in Bangkok, it’s the tuk tuk—a noisy three-wheeled open-sided buggy that sits three people comfortably while exposing each to Bangkok’s inclement weather and notorious pollution. “A taxi will be fine, thank you, Rob,” says Vongerichten, sipping the last of his tom yum.
Twenty minutes later, we’re standing outside a hole-in-the-wall eatery across from a convenience store on a road called Nang Linchi off Soi 8, one of Bangkok’s major thoroughfares. A life-size portrait of Jesus adorns the back wall, and just inside the door, an old, wrinkled cook flash-fries rice noodles in a medieval-looking wok over a crackling wood fire. Experience guides him as he seasons the noodles with soy, chili, sugar, egg, morning-glory stalks, and slices of chicken or pork. Oil sizzles. Steam bellows. Noodles somersault over open flames. And a smoky-sweet aroma fills the room.
