Mission Bangkok: Six Days, Seven Michelin Stars and Endless Mango Sticky Rice

My ticket read Athens – Zurich – Bangkok: sixteen hours and change until the final landing. From the aircraft window, the city of eleven million appeared vast and uncontained, an impression that is not far from reality. The monsoon season had come to an end, yet the heat and humidity still lingered in the air, a constant reminder that carrying an extra T-shirt is never a bad idea.

"A Greek-language version of this article appears on FNL Guide"

Public House Bangkok awaited me on arrival. My room was on the top floor, overlooking illuminated streets and the high-rise skyline of a neighbourhood alive with small bistros, each holding on to its own identity, set among bars where rows of women sat outside, waiting for the unsuspecting, or perhaps not so unsuspecting, tourist.

14 November 2025

My first dinner was at Le Du, the restaurant that topped Asia in 2023 and has retained its Michelin star with apparent ease ever since. Chef Thitid Tassanakajohn, widely known as Chef Ton and one of the most recognisable figures in contemporary Thai gastronomy, was working in the kitchen alongside his team. Before each course, he would come to the table himself, explaining exactly what was about to unfold in the next bite.

Le Du’s menu is built entirely around seasonal Thai produce, treated with a clarity that makes it immediately obvious how decisive the smallest details are. The wine pairing, focused largely on Central European labels, acted as a bridge between modern technique and the flavours of the local culinary tradition. After dinner, we continued to Le Du Kaan, a bar on the 56th floor with sweeping views over the Chao Phraya River and the city skyline, for cocktails and desserts. Only months earlier, this rooftop had been home to solar heaters and boiler rooms. Chef Ton transformed it into one of Bangkok’s most sought-after destinations.

15 November 2025

The following afternoon brought an unexpected surprise. I found myself invited into the kitchen of Gaggan Anand’s home. Duck, rice, curry, music filling the room, a Billie Eilish vinyl spinning on the turntable, all shared among friends, including acclaimed chefs who had gathered simply to spend the afternoon together. For me, the experience quickly took on a surreal quality. Out of nowhere, I was surrounded by home cooking prepared by people who collectively carry an impressive number of Michelin stars, yet approached the moment with warmth, ease and genuine hospitality.

Gaggan, surrounded by fellow chefs, his two dogs and his daughter, moved effortlessly between cooking, commenting, and dropping small fragments of culinary philosophy into the room. He rummaged through his fridge in search of an ingredient that might spark a new idea. In between, he devoted almost excessive attention to preparing a cup of hot coffee, the first thing he had made for himself that day.

Amid the steam, aromas and the constant hum of pans, a question surfaced from the background.

“Chef, what’s the secret to cooking good rice?”

Gaggan did not even look up. He stirred the pot and replied calmly,

“There is no magic. It’s just a fuckin’ rice.”

That evening, Bangkok’s Chinatown led the way to Potong, the restaurant of chef Pam Pichaya Soontornyanakij. The building, tall and narrow across five floors, once housed her family’s traditional herbal medicine business, a legacy that now forms the conceptual foundation of the restaurant itself.

Pam, recently named World’s Best Female Chef, does not work solely with technique. As she explained to us, she cooks with memory. Her tasting menu avoids theatricality and instead follows a deeply personal narrative, one that connects her family’s past with the urban pulse of today’s Chinatown.

Her approach to contemporary Thai-Chinese cuisine is built around time. House fermentations, kombucha, homemade soy sauces and long infusions form the backbone of the menu. The fourteen-day dry-aged duck, marinated with five spices and roasted for thirteen minutes at high temperature, was among the finest versions I have tasted. Equally memorable was the black chicken wrapped in dough, one of the clear highlights of the evening. As we left the restaurant, adding yet another Michelin star to my personal tally, chef Pam bid us farewell with a small bag concealing a quiet treasure. Inside was a carefully packed portion of what is widely considered the best mango sticky rice in the city, ready to eat. Those who know, know. For everyone else, do yourself a favour and seek out, or better yet make, this traditional dessert of Southeast Asia. There is no turning back.

16 November 2025

The following day at lunchtime, I arrived at Sühring. The sun was out, and the restaurant lay hidden within a lush tropical garden. From the very first moment, it felt like the most elegant setting of the entire trip. A feeling that proved well founded, as just a few days later the restaurant was awarded its third Michelin star.

The Sühring twins were there in person, smiling and gracious, yet entirely focused on their work. I stepped into the kitchen to see first-hand how their team operates. At the table, the flavours were deeply shaped by memories of their childhood in Germany, interpreted through ingredients sourced almost entirely in Thailand. The one element that remains resolutely tied to their homeland is the flour used for their bread, which they import directly from Germany.

Their generosity was striking. White truffle was shaved without restraint, while Imperial Beluga caviar seemed to appear repeatedly throughout the meal. The dish that truly caught me off guard was a sealed wafer filled with foie gras and apricot jam, a childhood memory transformed into a single, perfectly judged bite worthy of a three Michelin star restaurant.

The wine pairing opened with Champagne and whites, gradually moving towards reds. Along the way, we also tasted a twelve-year-aged drinking vinegar whose balance left a lasting impression. Had I had room in my luggage, I would have bought a bottle without hesitation. Sühring proved to be one of the quietest yet most powerful experiences of the trip. A meal that lasted almost three and a half hours, and yet passed with effortless ease, flowing as naturally as water.

Later that same evening, shifting gears entirely, we found ourselves at Ms Maria & Mr Singh. The concept is rooted in a romantic story: the love between an Indian man and a Mexican woman, a couple who bring together two of the most expressive cuisines in the world. And that is exactly what happens on the plate. The atmosphere was relaxed, noticeably lighter than anything I had experienced up to that point on the trip. This is a place that does not take itself too seriously. Comfort flavours, carefully executed but without pretence, dishes that carry the warmth of Indian cooking and the spicy boldness of Mexican cuisine. Heat, punch and small bursts of intensity come together to form a menu that feels immediate and approachable. The wine list followed a European path, with bottles from Austria, Spain and Germany, while margaritas appeared frequently at the tables and paired effortlessly with the character of the food.

17 November 2025

Around lunchtime, we headed into Chinatown, to one of those places you rarely find in a guidebook and only discover if someone who truly knows the city takes you there. A tiny spot with plastic chairs, tables set almost on the edge of the pavement, and an elderly man alongside his wife preparing noodles right there on the sidewalk.

Only locals were eating there. Plenty of schoolchildren, backpacks still slung over their shoulders, and more than a few chefs from good restaurants who come here for the city’s truest form of comfort food. The noodles were outstanding. Glass noodles and egg noodles, different broths, and extra crispy fish skin to crumble on top, finished with chilli condiments so punchy they had me sweating even more than before.

Straight afterwards, the route led us into an entirely different world: the Louis Vuitton building. Upstairs sits the brand’s restaurant, with a menu curated by Gaggan Anand. The contrast with the Chinatown noodles was almost comic. Elegant interiors, faultless service, and an obsessive attention to detail, in a restaurant that functions as a seamless extension of the boutique itself.

Yet, amid all this polish and restraint, there was one dish that instantly gave Gaggan Anand away. An espresso martini that you do not so much drink as… lick. Only he would have the nerve to introduce such a playful, almost irreverent gesture into an otherwise rigorously controlled setting and make it work.

After lunch, we made our way downstairs to the Louis Vuitton exhibition. An elegant retrospective dedicated to the maison’s bags, from its earliest designs to its most contemporary creations. A concise visual history of the brand, told through objects that have long since acquired cultural significance.

That same evening, I returned to the place where this journey had, in many ways, begun: Gaggan. Still, for me, this was unequivocally the most powerful restaurant experience of my life to date. And I am not referring solely to the food. Anyone who has a genuine relationship with both music and fine dining understands that, when these two worlds align properly, they can create something that goes far beyond conventional gastronomy. Something I am not sure exists anywhere else.

The meal is now structured into four acts: Japan, India, Thailand and Communal Cooking. Each act carries its own code, its own energy and its own soundtrack. Music here is not a background element but the backbone of the service. Plates appear bathed in light or held in shadow depending on the moment, their meaning shifting with each song and with Gaggan’s deliberate pauses between courses. And now, with the restaurant’s Michelin star having returned after years of open friction with the institution, the concept feels as though it has closed one cycle and opened another.

18 November 2025

The following evening took us to Nusara, the second restaurant by chef Ton. Located just metres from the Temple of the Reclining Buddha, it offers striking views through its large windows. Ton describes Nusara’s cuisine as “Colourful Thai Cuisine”. Neither traditional nor overtly modern, but somewhere in between. The meal begins with playful, small bites before moving into more comforting territory, a format that makes fine dining feel less rigid. The cooking has intensity and colour without ever becoming excessive. This is Ton in a more personal register, far removed from the disciplined framework of Le Du. Personally, I found this expression slightly more engaging than Le Du, which struck me as a little restrained.

19 November 2025

The final meal of the trip also served as a farewell. That evening I would fly to Munich and then back to Athens, but before the airports there was one last stop: Sra Bua by Kiin Kiin, housed inside the ultra-luxurious Siam Kempinski Hotel Bangkok. Chef Berm Chayawee welcomed us and led us into the kitchen to observe how his brigade operates. Behind the restaurant’s daily rhythm, however, stands another key figure: Henrik Yde-Andersen, the Danish chef who conceived the original concept. After years in Thailand, he succeeded in blending local tradition with European technique, creating a fine dining format that became a reference point.

The dishes we tasted felt almost cinematic. Delicate, romantic, as if lifted from a stylised Disney adaptation, with an outstanding mushroom soup standing out, its extraction performed tableside.

Sra Bua by Kiin Kiin proved to be the ideal closing chapter to a journey that had everything. From street food eaten on plastic chairs, to a celebrated chef’s home kitchen, to the three-star Sühring. Best of all, when I began writing this piece, the restaurants I had visited held a total of four Michelin stars. By the time I finished, that number had risen to seven. Here’s to good health, and to meeting again in Bangkok in 2027, when the newly reimagined Gaggan is set to reopen.