A detailed account of a dinner at the restaurant with descriptions of the food, the decor, and takeaways for the home cook.

A Night to Remember

In May of 2024, I had the good fortune of dining at the Michelin two-star restaurant Sühring in Bangkok, Thailand. It was so remarkable that I felt it would be a great shame if I forgot what it was like. I started taking notes on the back of a napkin to document the whole experience.

It was originally intended to be an aide-memoire for when I told friends and family about Sühring, but it grew and grew until it became this unsponsored review.

Sühring was my first time fine dining, and it opened my eyes to what high-level food can be. One does not simply get two Michelin stars by accident. Everything was excellent and exceeded all expectations.

We ordered the tasting menu, which was named ‘Erlebnis’, or Experience – which was the right thing to call it. The service was top notch, the visuals were stunning, and of course the food was amazing. I left Sühring knowing that this would be an evening that I would be thinking and talking about for years to come.

The Location

Sühring was tucked away in a building of its own in a low-density neighbourhood in Bangkok. We arrived just as it was getting dark. As if anticipating our arrival, the staff were already on the porch ready to greet us. We were brought to our own room on one side of the complex.

The first thing I noticed was the long rectangular table. An immaculate white tablecloth was laid over it and brilliantly lit, while the sides of the room was left in partial shadow. The lush green ferns growing in the grounds of the restaurant were barely visible out the window.

As my eyes wandered, I noticed the rest of the decor. Unadorned glass, steel and hardwood came together with a bold simplicity. The rest of the restaurant was visible past a windowpane, but the glass let no noise through. Some of the guests were already partway through their dinner. I saw the sommelier introduce a wine and pour out two glasses, in absolute silence. It was surreal, like something out of a Hannibal Lecter movie.

The Service

The service was a cross between clockwork and ballet. The wait staff enter the room after gingerly opening the door, without any noise. The table was set for each course with a white gloved hand. Each piece of cutlery was set down softly, to a precise and predetermined place. The table was cleaned meticulously before the next course was announced.

There’s a strong performative element to the service. Quite often, the final touches to the food right in front of you. The staff would add the final spoonfuls of garnish, or pour the last bit of sauce after the plate has been set down.

The roast duck was even paraded around in the Dutch oven it was cooked in, so we could all see the well-browned skin and smell the bed of thyme under it. That built up a lot of anticipation for when the duck was actually served, carved up and plated up delicately.

How the food should be eaten was also prescribed. We would be told to eat certain appetizers in a single bite, or to take a sip of something while we had something else in our mouths. The chef had a vision for how the customer experiences the food, and the instructions are there to deliver that experience with a high degree of fidelity.

This prescriptive element to the process of eating was something new to me. It isn’t like with fajitas where you pick your own adventure. But this is fine dining – you don’t just pay for the food, but for everything else around it.

Ratings

To give a sense of how highly I thought of each course, I’ll be rating them by their visual presentation, the taste of the food, and the “wow” factor – how much I was surprised by some element of the dish.

I’ll rate them on a scale from 0 to 10, with 0 being me thinking I can literally do better than that myself, 5 being what I would expect from a fancy restaurant, and 10 being unbelievable and out of this world. That is to say, even if I rated something a 5 it would still be excellent, but something I would have anticipated beforehand.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go on and talk about the dinner.

The Food

The sommelier started us off with a glass of wine each, although we didn’t go for the wine pairing because that sounded like a bit too much booze than we wanted to handle. I know next to nothing about wine, but I was reassured by those of us who know what they’re talking about that the wine was very good.

What I did appreciate was how the stems and edges of the wine glasses were much thinner than the glasses I usually handle, and that delicate feeling in the hand added to the awareness that I was undergoing a fancy and cultured experience.

We were then informed that we were to be surprised by 4 appetizers that weren’t listed on the menu. They were indeed surprisingly good.

Four Surprises

Pretzel and radler

The first surprise was a tiny pretzel stuffed with Camembert cheese, and dusted with paprika. We were asked to eat it in one bite. The pretzel looks like a smiley face with a plant growing out of a pimple, which is pretty cute.

I have no idea how they did it (which would be a recurring theme throughout the dinner), but the walls of the pretzel were incredibly crispy and airy, while the cheese filling was warm and soft and very creamy.

This was paired with a radler, which is a mix of lemonade and beer. It was served in a super cute, tiny little glass. I couldn’t resist toasting my buddy across from me. It was both citrusy and malty, and refreshed my palate for the next surprise.

Presentation: 6/10 
Taste: 7/10
Wow: 6/10

Enclosed herring

The second surprise was a tart with pickled herring, a savoury jelly, and mustard seeds. We were told to eat the whole thing in one bite.

The base of the tart, like the tarts that came after, tasted remarkably like a corn tortilla chip. The mustard seeds pop as you chew, and release little bursts of flavour. 

As for the herring, I’m afraid I’m not a fan. It’s not bad by any means – meaty, a bit tart, not ‘fishy’ at all. It complemented the other parts of the tart well. But it just wasn’t my taste.

Presentation: 5/5
Taste: 4/5
Wow: 4/5

Green pea tart

The third surprise was a tart with green peas and elderflower with a mushroom cream filling. Again, to be eaten in one bite. And what a bite it was! This was what inspired me to start taking notes.

The tart crust was of the same thin-corn-tortilla construction as the enclosed herring, and as you chewed it broke apart and spread its crunchy carb goodness through the rest of the ingredients. It was just the right thickness to be structurally sound, while not being so thick that it dominated the other flavours.

The mushroom cream was very smooth and airy and mushroom-y (for lack of a better term), and there was a subtle smokiness to because of the lardon bits. The little pops of purple from the elderflower really added colour and vibrancy to the whole presentation.

But the green peas, they were the best part. could never have imagined that peas could taste so good! Each pea was sweet and tender, and enclosed with a snappy skin that would resist your teeth until it finally broke apart. So, so far from the powdery, musty and wrinkled business that is frozen peas.

My guess is that the peas were very fresh, and they were cooked exceedingly gently (perhaps by steaming) until the last hint of raw grassiness left them.

These peas were the gustatory epitome of getting it just right, and they made my entire evening. Perhaps my favourite part of the dinner – it made me feel grateful to be alive.

Presentation: 7/10
Taste: 10/10
Wow: 10/10

Honey apricot vinegar, and duck liver pate

The restaurant made its own white wine vinegar from Pinot noir, aged it to evaporate off the alcohol, and turned it into a honey and apricot infusion. We were each poured a shot of the vinegar in a tiny glass, with a tall thin stem that maybe stood 8 inches high. We were asked to only take a sip, and save the rest for later.

Superb. The acidity of the vinegar was perfectly balanced against the sweetness of the honey. The aroma of the white wine paired well with the floral, fruity notes of the apricot. Best of all, the addition of honey made the mixture very viscous, so it stayed on your tongue for a very long time. More time on tongue means more taste.

So far, this course has been amazing. (or strictly speaking, merely one of four appetisers that wasn’t even on the menu) Not too much or too little of anything, everything was just right. Fantastic. Then, we were served with its companion, an absolute shocker of a snack.

At first it seemed out of place. I thought it was something that came from a shop. Perhaps the restaurant sourced some high quality merchandise and wanted to show it off? The mystery unraveled as we ate.

The packaging was a delight to tear open. I know it’s a funny thing to say, but it was thin and papery and just a little bit plasticky, so it gave a very even resistance against my hand as it tore open. It didn’t suddenly snap back, it didn’t stretch, just gave way steadily at a rate proportional to the pressure exerted onto it.

Inside was a piece of duck liver pate, sandwiched between two thin chocolate wafers – it dawned on us that this snack must have been freshly packaged very recently for the wafers to stay crispy despite sitting right next to all the moisture in the pate. Such was the length that Sühring went to craft a unique dining experience, that they made their pate sandwich look like something from a factory!

The duck liver pate was, of course, fatty and rich and savoury. As expected. The real magic begins when you start to stack this flavour with the other elements of this course. The sweetness of the chocolate wafers brings down the cattiness and the slight acidity of the pate once you get to it.

Then, I did as I was told and took a sip of the honey apricot vinegar while I had some of the pate wafer sandwich in my mouth. Another unexpected turn: the sticky, tart, sweet vinegar came in, further toning down the richness of the pate, and brought a lot of new tastes to life.

There were so many tastes happening at once and playing off against each other that it felt like there was a football game going on in my mouth. I continued. A bite of pate, a sip of vinegar, noticing how each additional element altered the flavour. I marvelled at how, during this dinner, surprise after surprise was served up with no end in sight.

Presentation: 8/10
Taste: 8/10
Wow: 10/10

Smoked eel

Very dainty and delicate looking food we got here. The greenish disks were cucumber, and they were crunchy and refreshing and nice to have after the grease-fest that was the duck liver pate.

The smoked eel rounds had a very curious texture. The eel and the fish roe above gave almost no resistance when chewed, so the most prominent texture was the small crispy leaf on top.

Like the herring, this dish suffered from the fact that I wasn’t a big fan of smoked fish. Delicious, but nowhere near as impressive as the green pea tart.

It did make me jealous of professional kitchens that serve enough customers to justify keeping micro greens around for garnish. Those tiny leaves and edible flowers make food look so good!

Presentation: 5/10
Taste: 5/10
Wow: 4/10

Bread and butter

Next, these grey egg shaped things about the size of a fist appeared on our table. I wondered what they were. Some sort of decoration?

Turns out it’s butter, and it’s to go with the bread. Our hostess came around with a bread basket and let us pick from its bounty. I went with the pretzel, because it seemed like the proper Deutsch thing to do.

The bread was obviously freshly baked. Steam came rushing out when I broke it apart. The insides were soft and pillowy, the flaky salt on top was crunchy and exciting, and the butter took everything up a level. It might be cultured butter – not what I’m used to, but I couldn’t tell the difference. My best guess, because I’ve never had cultured butter before.

Once the pretzel was thoroughly and mindfully enjoyed, I was faced with a conundrum. There was plenty of bread left, but there were also plenty of courses left. Should I go for seconds, at the risk of spoiling my appetite?

YOLO! From how things had went so far, I had faith that the chef would find a way to keep me wanting to eat. Besides, who can resist the promise of a good piece of sourdough?

It was everything I expected from sourdough and more. The bread was fragrant and steaming hot, of course. The crust was crispy, the insides were chewy, and there was a bit of tang to it. The twist came in the form of a hint of cumin to the taste. I’m not sure if it was an improvement to sourdough, but it sure did mark this bread out as being unique.

Presentation: 5/10
Taste: 7/10
Wow: 6/10

Scallops and king crab

They say you eat with your eyes first, so let’s begin with the presentation. The composition of this dish is that of dots on a big circle. The slices of scallop were interspersed with pieces of thick kombu cut into rounds. The whole thing was stacked on top of a disk of pear flesh, crowned with king crab meat, and surrounded with a moat of horseradish cream. 

The kombu added a nice vegetal umami to each bite (like it does to Japanese dashi), and the pear provided juiciness and sweetness. The flavours were mild, but they were very present. Nothing shouted over anything else.

The size of the scallops made me suspect that they were trimmed down from a larger piece, perhaps to only serve the best bits. They were raw, which made this dish reminiscent of Japanese sashimi. Naturally, the quality of the ingredients were top notch, and the shellfish was sweet and fresh.

The sushi analogy was furthered by the horseradish – many of you know that most ‘wasabi’ is actually just horseradish with food colouring. I don’t think this is an accident – I’ve come to assume that things at Sühring happen only because the chef wills it.

A Chinese man enjoys Japanese-themed food at a German restaurant in Bangkok. What a wonderful world we live in.

Presentation: 6/10
Taste: 6/10
Wow: 6/10

Butter poached Arctic Char

Arctic what now? A quick Google search on my phone under the table informs me that Arctic Char is a fatty fish, like salmon. Which the chef poached in smoked butter until a tender, juicy medium rare.

Now, at the end of the day a piece of fish can only taste so good. A home cook could conceivably poach a piece of salmon themselves and get a similar result, if you consider the fish in isolation. Once you’ve hit the ceiling, what sets fine dining apart is everything else around it.

Let’s start with the rice foam. It was still bubbling when served, which got me pretty excited. The food didn’t just sit still, it spluttered and popped and moved. While the foam itself was mild, it paired nicely with the fish broth at the bottom which was reinforced with a strong element of white pepper. My mind was awash with questions while I ate. How do you turn rice into foam? How do you keep it foaming like that? 

And the cauliflower purée, it’s not so much a purée as it is a cream. No doubt plenty of actual cream was added to it, but the cauliflower mash has been sieved so thoroughly that there was absolutely no hint of fibrousness to it. It draped my tongue like a viscous liquid. Cauliflower has no business being this smooth.

The fish was served with a tart of almond paste, caviar and char roe (almost like parent and child, akin to the Japanese Oyakodon). The shell of the tart was of the same tortilla chip construction as the appetisers. The almond was mild, like the backdrop on a stage. The roe and caviar popped with savoury juice as I chewed. I’m sure the tart would have been delightful if served alone, but here the fish absolutely stole the show.

Presentation: 7/10
Taste: 7/10
Wow: 8/10

Lobster and white asparagus

French blue lobsters cooked over embers, paired with a spear of white asparagus. The vegetable was bedecked with 40k gold, a rectangular strip of kombu, garden peas and hazelnuts.

If the scallop dish was built with dots on a circle, then this one was made of lines. The asparagus and the lobster were laid slightly off center, and the kombu strip echoed the linear theme. The gold foil went a long way toward reminding me that this was fancy, fancy food.

There were not one, but three sauces – lobster bisque, a morel sauce, and lobster head oil. These sauces were thick. Some of us did a little experiment and tried to whisk the sauces together with a fork, but it was so viscous that it wouldn’t come together. Not sure what it added to the gustatory experience, but there you go.

Maybe I’m starting to get fatigued from all this amazement, but the dining experience dipped at this point. The food from out of this world to merely excellent, and each component of this course did its job without blowing my mind. Except maybe the morel on the side with more of the morel sauce hidden in its cavity , which squished out and gave me a small surprise when I stuck a fork into it.

The lobster was cooked just right, and the asparagus was sweet and tender. The sauce had a hint of vinegar with it, which was a very nice touch. These were good ingredients, with an excellent execution, but they’re up against some serious competition. I’m still reeling from the borderline religious experience that was eating the garden peas half an hour ago.

Presentation: 5/10
Taste: 5/10
Wow: 4/10

Slow-roasted duck

Like I described in the introduction, this was paraded around with much pomp and circumstance before the lobster was served. It’s been aged for 10 days, then roasted low and slow over a bed of rosemary. The incredible aroma wafted through the room during the show. The anticipation was real.

That’s not the end of it, though. Some super fancy knives were brought out, and we were allowed to pick which knife to eat the duck with. German steel blades, married to hardwood handles made with timber from various parts of Europe.

I’ve never had aged duck, so I didn’t know what to expect. The texture was perhaps more firm than fresh duck, but it didn’t taste much different. Perhaps I come from a culture that excels at roasting duck, so I had higher expectations. This was good duck, but not great duck.

The duck jus had a bit of a twist to it, in the form of vanilla. The savoury/sweet interplay is curious, but I’m not sure if it added to my enjoyment of the food. Likewise, the peach was studded with cacao beans, which made for an interesting presentation but was less than stellar.

Despite the lackluster performance of the main cast, there were two gems to this course. The accompanying tart (I’m starting to see a pattern here) had a filling of duck liver pate and shredded leg meat. Despite how overpowering pate can be, the balance of flavour was such that the vegetables came out as the dominant tasting note.

The other surprise came with the wagyu tenderloin that some of us ordered (although unfortunately I didn’t get any photos of this). The steak was unremarkably excellent (if there was ever such a term), but it came in a pool of what I believe to be demi glacé.

I’ve never had it before, although I heard about it (mostly because of an Adam Ragusea video) and knew it was supposed to be very gelatinous and full of umami. Well, if that’s the case then this must be it – luscious, lip-smackingly thick, and intensely savoury.

The best way I can describe it is a cross between soy sauce, oyster sauce and yeast extract (like Bovril or Vegemite). So, if it really was demi glacé then I can add that onto the growing list of many, many first experiences I had that evening.

As for the knife? World class craftsmanship no doubt, aesthetically pleasing and well-balanced, but it functioned about as well as any other table knife. it’s about the show, though, and that’s top notch.

Presentation: 6/10
Taste: 4/10
Wow: 3/10

Palate cleanser

I’ve learned that it’s common for high end restaurants to serve something light and fresh to refresh one’s palate between the savoury and sweet courses.

Champagne was whipped with cream, sugar and egg yolk to create a white, fluffy mixture that tasted kind of like a pan sauce. I guess that’s because white wine is often used to deglaze pans, and champagne tastes like white wine.

Rhubarb no doubt added colour to the dollop above the champagne cream, but I don’t think I could taste it. The crispy ginger on top was a nice touch.

Palate cleansed in a novel and curious manner. Nothing to write home about (or at least, not one of the top 3), and I’m ready for dessert.

Presentation: 5/10
Taste: 4/10
Wow: 4/10

Chocolate pralines

Or as they’re referred to here, “fein schokolade”. There was one of yuzu and almond, one of caramel and whisky, and one of apricot and rum.

I don’t know if hedonistic fatigue is a thing (edit: it is, and it’s called hedonistic adaptation), but I’ve noticed my appreciation of the food drop throughout the meal. Mind you, nothing tasted any worse than good, and the conversation around the table was still thoroughly enjoyable.

But gee, having gone 4 hours and 11 courses into the meal, it’s starting to feel difficult to keep my mind and my senses focused on all these experiences that would have been over the top fantastic when considered in isolation.

Presentation: 4/10
Taste: 4/10
Wow: 3/10

Grandma’s Cheesecake

Or “Oma’s kasechuchen”. We were served a strawberry vanilla cheesecake with chocolate, yuzu and strawberry icing. I picked up my fork and prepared to dig in. Oops! Always expect Sühring to go above and beyond. The cake was merely the base of the dish, which was to be assembled in front of my very eyes by the wait staff.

First, a sprinkle of garnish made of Japanese strawberries, yuzu gel and vanilla leaves. Next, pebbles of dry ice was spooned onto the plate next to the cheesecake. The effect was that as the dry ice evaporated, white clouds crept up and over the sides of the dish.

First-class showmanship. As for the cake itself, I don’t know what to say. Cheesecake is an intrinsically delicious thing – fat and sugar is hard to beat. So it’s no surprise when the cake was rich and decadent and satisfying. Like with the lobster (and perhaps more so), this was a case of a well-executed dish that was more remarkable for the experience of seeing it being presented beautifully than the experience of actually eating it.

To finish off, we had these strawberries on a stick. They were good strawberries, and the stick made eating them fun. Now, this being fine dining, of course the strawberries couldn’t just be left alone. So delicate little vanilla flower petals were dotted on the fruit. Plenty of visual appeal going on, but it seems like it did little to the taste.

Presentation: 6/10
Taste: 5/10
Wow: 6/10

More surprises

The meal began with something off-menu, and finished with something off-menu. The first were German schnapps from the chef’s hometown. They’re flavoured with apricots, but I’m afraid my palate isn’t refined enough to taste much beyond the 50% or so alcohol by volume.

The egg nog, on the other hand, satisfied a long-standing itch. Much like my voyeuristic fascination with American cuisine, my interest in something only grows when I hear about but don’t get to try it. If memory serves me correctly, the first time I came across this term was in the footnotes of a translated Garfield comic I was reading as a kid. Although I must admit, my impression of it as a cozy Christmas drink have since changed due to … other influences.

It almost tastes like Baileys Irish Cream, maybe because the ingredients are so similar. German vodka, evaporated milk and sugar, thickened with egg yolks and flavoured with vanilla – vanilla seeds from the pod, the real deal.

Boozy liquid pudding is the best way I can describe it. I’m not sure how I feel about the vodka being there, it’s pretty harsh even with all the cream and sugar there to mellow it out. Perhaps I would like it if it was served warm, or sans booze entirely. Even so, I’m still glad I tried it and scratched my itch.

Reflections

When it comes to restaurants and eating out, there are cheap and quick places that I’m happy to spend money at for the speed and convenience. Mid-tier places used to be for special occasions, but as I got better at home cooking that happened less and less often.

A lot of the bill for eating at these places go towards paying someone else’s rent and overhead, plus tips and taxes. Why go to a cafe or a steakhouse when you can make restaurant-grade lobster pasta, or a perfectly good slow-roasted lamb shank for date night?

But then, fine dining is really an entirely different beast. Everything from the ingredients, the preparation, the presentation, the table service, to the decor, you can tell that a lot of thought and effort was put into the whole process. It’s not just the food, but where you’re sitting, how it’s served, and how it looks.

That level of attention to detail, the degree of service, and the prescriptive way we were instructed to eat in order to experience the food as the chef intended it to be. This is what sets fine dining apart from being merely an expensive dinner.

High-end places like Sühring that blow everything else out of the water with food that is way beyond the reach of anything anyone can make at home. Even so, there are plenty of takeaways for a home cook.

The use of contrasting colours and textures, playing around with different geometries and plating compositions in presentation, and the pairing of main meal components with complimentary elements are all things I’m interested in trying out the next time I make something for a special occasion.

A dinner like this might cost an arm and a leg, but it’s an experience worth paying for (for us it was about USD$360 per person, inclusive of tax and tip, for the THB$7800 tasting menu plus a glass of wine each). I’m sure my night at Sühring is a story I will be telling for many years to come.

SWR

20/6/2024

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