Pot noodles might seem an odd dish to eat with Thailand’s most celebrated chef, but when you’re with Thitid “Ton” Tassanakajohn, you follow his lead. I find myself on a plastic stool in Jeh O Chula, a no-frills joint near Chulalongkorn University, in Bangkok, famous for its Mama Noodles Tom Yum. Steel tables are jammed with locals and tourists, elbowing for space as Thai soap operas flicker on overhead screens. It’s the kind of place where both movie stars and everyday diners queue for hours to slurp these noodles, but when you’re with the country’s equivalent of Gordon Ramsay, you’re whisked straight to a table.
Chef Ton (as he’s known on television here), is a Michelin-starred chef, and his fine dining restaurant, Le Du, was ranked No 1 on Asia’s 50 Best Restaurant list in 2023. He was a judge on reality TV show Top Chef Thailand, and his familiar face pops up everywhere, from billboards to ads for his own brand of coconut milk.
He knows Jeh O well. He studied finance at the university just down the street before ditching the bank job after a month to pursue cooking, training in the Culinary Institute of America and working his way through New York’s top restaurants. He is eager to show me the dish that keeps the queues snaking down the street well into the night. When our order arrives – two packets of instant noodles swimming in a rich, spicy tom yum broth, piled high with shrimp, crab, squid, pork belly, and four egg yolks – he assures me that these are the best noodles I will taste. Then more dishes crowd the table: blood red clams in their shells, tofu, salted duck egg, gelatinous duck tongue, stir-fried morning glory, and crispy fried pork belly. Our waiter surveys the dishes, does the sums in his head and in no time, we’re out, freeing up the table for another frenzy of food.
A visit to Jay Fai’s legendary Michelin-starred street food stall, which featured on Netflix’s Chef’s Table, is another perk of having a high-profile dining companion, as the queue can be anything from three to seven hours. If you’ve forgotten cash, you’re out of luck. Bank transfer is allowed, but only if you’re the daughter of the prime minister, like the one sitting across from me, posing for a selfie with the chef herself.
Jay Fai is an institution. Hunched over her roaring charcoal stove, wearing her trademark black goggles, and draped in chunky gold jewellery, the smell of sizzling crab omelettes is tantalising as she turns one gently in the oil, teasing it into shape, and pouring in a little extra beaten egg to seal up the edge of the crisp golden roll. The word is that she has stepped back from the business in recent months, leaving her daughter in charge, but the omelettes are as spectacular as ever.
The space is more workshop than restaurant, with melamine tables, green tiled walls, and fans struggling to keep up with the heat. The crab omelette, at nearly €40, comes out like a deep-fried pancake, stuffed with the sweetest, meatiest crab you’ll ever taste. There’s a reason chefs come here after their own shifts – no one in Bangkok can get crab like this, thanks to a long-standing supplier Jay Fai has kept for years.
You get one shot at ordering, so if you’re with a group, make sure to add the pad khee mao – drunken noodles spiked with crab and squid – and the vermicelli crab-and-prawn pancake that holds together like a dream, topped with fiery sriracha and a squeeze of lime. Even her congee, a simple porridge with prawn, ginger and egg, is elevated into something deeply comforting yet luxurious.
For Chef Ton, this encapsulates Thai food. Street food isn’t just a snack: it’s central to how people eat in Thailand. He jokes that Thai people are always eating – dinner might be early but there’s always supper later that night, a bowl of noodles, grilled skewers, or a quick snack on the way home.
The next day, we drive southwest to Mae Klong Railway Market, also known as the Umbrella Market. It’s like no other market I’ve seen – stalls flank the train tracks, selling everything from fresh produce and fish to clothing, jewellery and hot food. Every few hours, a train rumbles through, and in a matter of seconds, the stallholders pull back their canopies and wares, and everyone presses against the stalls as the train chugs through, just inches from the goods.
Ton says that it’s worth venturing to the smaller towns outside Bangkok, which are still steeped in tradition. We stroll through the market, stopping at the local stalls. Ton points to a display of mackerel, the star ingredient in one of the local specialities. He explains that here the mackerel is cooked for two days in soy sauce and palm sugar, until it’s so tender you can eat the bones.
We head to Daeng Seafood, a low-key restaurant with plastic chairs, melamine plates and no-nonsense service. Ton orders almost everything: crab smashed into chunks, razor clams with holy basil, pomfret in a broth spiked with lemongrass, and that mackerel he mentioned earlier, sticky and sweet from hours of slow cooking. The seafood sauces – green with crab, red with fish – are simple but hit just the right note of heat.
After lunch we visit Damnoen Saduak Floating Market. The crowds have thinned, and longtail boats glide through the narrow canals lined with coconut palms. We watch as a man standing chest-deep in water cuts coconuts from the trees, while women in small boats sell skewers of grilled chicken, ice cream and fruit.
The food markets in Bangkok are legendary, and their produce forms the foundation of Ton’s dishes. A visit to Or Tor Kor Market the next day, far removed from the tourist trail, is a revelation. It’s a cavernous, impeccably clean market, with row after row of stalls selling everything from vibrant spices and gleaming fruits to live seafood, herbs, oils and pastes; there are large pots of freshly cooked food, and a food court serving dishes such as catfish and spiced fish ball curry. It’s sensory overload in the best way: jewel-coloured spices wafting aromas into the air, piles of vegetables glistening under the lights and enormous tropical fruits practically bursting at the seams.
I taste durian for the first time, a fruit famous for its, let’s say, challenging aroma. This is a variety called long-handle, the rarest and most expensive variety in Thailand at €400 a kilogramme. It’s surprisingly mild, creamy and quite delicious. The more common “golden pillow” variety, which costs €120 a kilogramme, has a stronger, more pungent flavour. As we move from stall to stall, Ton points out the key ingredients that make up the backbone of Thai cuisine – shrimp paste, dried seafood and gleaming fresh fish. We pause at a stall displaying enormous freshwater river prawns, priced at 1000 baht (€27) a piece. He orders them for Le Du that evening and is already on the phone, co-ordinating with his chefs.
Le Du is the restaurant that redefined Thai food. Ton says that 10 years ago, the idea of Thai fine dining was almost laughable. Fine dining was for French or Italian food, Thai food was cheap street fare. The thought of paying top dollar for local ingredients seemed absurd. Ton wanted to change that and show that Thai culinary traditions – palace recipes, street food, local produce – could rival the world’s best.
When he opened Le Du, he faced scepticism. People thought he wouldn’t last six months. But his signature river prawn dish, the same prawns from Or Tor Kor, changed minds.
Le Du’s Khao Kluk Kapi, his take on fermented shrimp paste rice, is a perfect example of his approach. He cooks the rice like risotto, pairing it with a butterflied prawn grilled over an open flame. Surrounding it are green beans, mango, lime leaf, Thai chillies, and a sweet pork belly jam – each element adding a new layer of flavour. Every bite is a balance of creamy, crispy, sweet, and spicy.
While Le Du is what Ton describes as his playground, Nusara is about honouring his roots. Named after his grandmother, it’s a deeply personal restaurant set in a beautifully restored shophouse near Wat Pho temple. The restaurant spans four floors, with the dining experience beginning downstairs before progressing to a terrace that offers stunning views of the Chao Phraya river and the temple’s ancient spires.
Ranked No 3 on Asia’s 50 Best Restaurant list this year, the 12-course tasting menu takes inspiration from traditional Thai family dishes and royal recipes, some dating back to the Rama V period. Each dish is intricately plated in a style reminiscent of Japanese kaiseki, but the flavours are unmistakably Thai. The meal begins with delicate snacks like mackerel paired with coconut and cucumber and a bite-sized crab curry served on a crispy betel leaf with a hit of horseshoe crab roe. One of the standout courses is the Hokkaido scallop, served with sweetcorn and cured egg yolk. The scallop offers a hint of heat, but the sweetness of the accompanying corn soup – served separately – cleanses the palate, a deliciously resolved experience.
At Nusara, every dish tells a story of family, heritage and Ton’s mission to elevate Thai food. The experience feels intimate, as though you’re dining in a private room with close friends, surrounded by the warmth of tradition. By the end, you leave with a new appreciation for Thai cuisine, knowing you’ve experienced something truly remarkable.
Corinna Hardgrave was a guest of Thitid “Ton” Tassanakajohn of Le Du and Nusara restaurants
Bangkok notebook
Jeh O Chula, 113 Rong Muang, Pathum Wan, Bangkok 10330
Jay Fai, 327 Maha Chai Rd, Samran Rat, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok 10200
Mae Klong Railway Market, Mueang Samut Songkhram, Samut Songkhram
Daeng Seafood Restaurant, 1 152 Bang Kaeo, Mueang Samut Songkhram District, Samut Songkhram 75000
Damnoen Saduak Floating Market, Damnoen Saduak, Damnoen Saduak District, Ratchaburi 70130.
Or Tor Kor Market, 101 Kamphaeng Phet Rd, Khwaeng Chatuchak, Khet Chatuchak, Krung Thep Maha Nakhon 10900
Le Du, 399/3 Silom 7 Alley, Silom, Bang Rak Bangkok 10500
Nusara, 336 Maha Rat Rd, Phra Borom Maha Ratchawang, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok 10200
