COCONUTS HOT SPOT — The cardinal rule when choosing a restaurant is as such: When a place is always packed with people, it’s usually good. When a place serving cuisine from a specific country is always packed with people from that specific country, it’s authentic and good.
Kenji’s Lab is consistently filled with throngs of salarymen and their demure wives, artsy groups pondering life and sharing ideas, and rowdy bunches out to spill saké down their gullet. It’s the same spread of social archetypes you’d find at any cool little spot, except here they’re all Japanese. There is little diversity in the diners at Kenji’s.
My American palate and lack of thorough experience eating in the land of the rising sun mean I can’t detect the subtle nuances in the cuisine that may or may not make it outstanding. The crowds would lead me to believe the food is phenomenal, but I wanted to know: Are these diners lowering their expectations and simply taking what they can get outside of their homeland? Or is Kenji’s really that great?
To find out, I took along a Japanese dining partner.
When we arrived, the Thai staff instinctively spoke Japanese – a pattern throughout the night – and was very surprised when we stated that we didn’t have a reservation. We were seated in the back (the takeaway: make a reservation).
Entering Kenji’s during the dinner rush, I felt diners’ eyes tracking me as I cut through all the conversations in Japanese to take a seat at the table in the back. For foreigners, it might evoke the nostalgic sense of walking into a small, hidden restaurant for the first time you came to Thailand, except at Kenji’s, farang and Thai are all gaijin. For Japanese diners, you’ll feel right at home.
The samna no kunsei, or smoked mackerel, was served at room temperature, which I initially thought odd, but the briny and simple nature of the fish seemed more intense at room temperature. It’s clear that Kenji Nakayama can bend flavors his way. The Nasu no agedashi, cubed eggplants in a soy bath, was also served at an ambient temperature. My dining partner remarked that serving it lukewarm wasn’t normal practice: it should be either hot or cold. But ultimately, the flavors were there.
But what did my Japanese judge think?
“Japanese people need things to be as close to perfect as they can be, so if you see a lot of Japanese people eating somewhere, it’s good,” was the reply.
Horse sashimi was on the specials list, but instead we opted for the Wagyu beef: four perfectly plated, thick slices of Japanese beef almost bacon-like in texture. The marbling is undeniable, almost to a fault. Globules of fat dripped onto the plate as the two chopsticks gripped the slice of meat, cooked to a rare shade of pink . The portion, at around THB500 isn’t what I could call generous, but it’s Waygu; it’s never cheap.
The Japanese know how to do minimalism, but when it came to the oysters from Hokkaido, I wasn’t convinced that two slices of seaweed and a lemon garnish were enough to add any excitement to a pair of lifeless, nearly flavorless oysters. Steer clear of these crustaceans.
On our visit, shortly after the tragedy in Nepal, we were presented with a special menu the Kenji had dreamed up: Two Nepalese dishes on special for THB100 that went directly to relief efforts. This sort of charity should be praised, and it would be nice to see more restaurants exercising culinary creativity for charity.
When the meal concluded, I almost didn’t even bother consulting my Japanese dining partner on whether or not this place was as authentic as it felt – it didn’t really matter, I thought the food was very good, the atmosphere felt very Japanese, and the saké and draft Sapporo imports made it all even better. Plus the location tucked away in a small Thonglor soi elevated its coolness to me.
Coconuts Hot Spots are based on unannounced visits by our contributors and reflect their opinion. No freebies here.
FIND IT:
Kenji’s Lab
6pm – 1am, Tuesday through Saturday
Soi Thararom 2
Thonglor
(Next door to Shades of Retro)
