Nahm Thai-s up your tastebuds

This review was first published in July 2001

David Thompson holds little truck with what he has called the 'fusion fad - the East meets West bandwagon'; this is quite the thing in his native Australia. Ironically he's the physical incarnation of fusion - a Westerner dedicated to cooking pure and authentic Thai food. His unusual passion came about by accident; he went on holiday by mistake - as Withnail once said. What was supposed to be a trip to Tahiti ended up in Thailand, where he was 'seduced' by the culture, the people and the food. He lived there for some years, learning about Thai Royal Cuisine from an old woman whose mother had been born in a palace and had inherited a technique of cooking Thompson describes as having 'clarity of flavours, definition of textures and deft balance of seasoning'.

In fact, so dedicated is he to tracking down and preserving some of the ancient recipes, he has been employed to advise on Thai cooking to Thailand. Some accolade.

After roaring critical success in Sydney, he now arrives in London with Nahm at Belgravia's Halkin Hotel. It's a long, gilded and rather unprepossessing room that is already packed to bursting point, with the affluent diners providing flashes of colour. There's clearly no abating of Thompson's passion: several times during our visit he appeared at the door to the kitchens gesticulating frantically at waiting staff who had maybe faltered short of perfection.

The kitchen demonstrates no such shortcomings: food is astonishing --but be prepared to pay for it; this is a menu where soup weighs in at £10.75 and main courses can hit the £25 mark. By comparison, the Nahm Aharn - a traditional Thai meal at £47 a head for about eight dishes - teetered on the reasonable.

Amuse-bouches of mandarins and pineapples crowned with a fudgey, crispy mixture of palm sugar, minced meat and aromatics delivered little depth charges of flavours. This set the tone for what followed. Firstly, betel leaves containing an explosive mix of salmon and watermelon offered a combination of tastes new to me. Then there was a lull in the proceedings before our small table was engulfed with food. This, and the intensity of flavours on offer, proved a little overwhelming. From our dizzying selection, several experiences stood out: crisp salted trout in a vivid, tingly salad; an assembly that featured salted duck eggs, a Thai fruit called langsart, frilly crisp fishcakes and cubes of pork cooked to the consistency, and almost the flavour, of soft toffee; and a memorably savoury stir-fry of scallops with deep-fried galangal, lemongrass and garlic. Duck curry was almost Indian in its earthiness; Thai personality was added with a perfumed cucumber 'relish'. Puddings were surreal: a subtle pale green betel leaf water ice topped with crisp-fried shallot; pancakey affairs stuffed with soft meringue and duck-egg noodles; and addictive black sticky rice and coconut.

With an entry level bottle of wine - at £20.50 the cheapest on the list - an extra couple of glasses and one cocktail, we paid £160 for two, enough to clear your head after the headiest of dinners. And was it worth it? Actually, if you can afford it, it kind of was.