Dateline Bangkok, January 18, 2007; a twelve-minute read.

The security guards at my building thought the Prime Minister was my chauffeur! Well, the driver wore the same formal outfit…white peaked cap, all white uniform with gold trim, and it did look like his car—the very latest, stretch BMW Seven Series limo.

But, no, it was just the beginning of another unforgettable evening at The Oriental Hotel. The car was one of a fleet that had just been delivered to the hotel, and the driver had a lot of trouble holding it back as we voomed down my little soi. No worry, just turning left into Rajadamri road took ten minutes, and we sat without moving for another 20. (Why the mayor of BKK doesn’t hire the traffic coordinator from Singapore, I’ll never know.)

Two days ago, Susie Hansirisawasdi, the chic and ebullient PR director of The Oriental, called to say that Kurt Wachtveitl, the most famous hotel general manager in the world, had invited me to cocktails and dinner at the newly refurbished The China House.

(“Really!” I thought, “Even after that highly critical article I wrote a couple of months ago about The Mandarin Oriental Dhara Dhevi in Chiang Mai for which Kurt is ultimately responsible?! I figured it must be a press junket with Khun Kurt officiating over drinks.”)

Then Susie said a limo would pick me at my condo. (“That’s rather special.” I thought.)

The China House has long been the mainstay of traditional Cantonese cuisine at the hotel. The last time I had stayed at the hotel (a birthday gift of dinner and a night in the Noel Coward suite --see “Oriental Memories”-- from Khun Kurt last August), the restaurant was draped in canvas and full of carpenters. Susie told me it was now finished and completely redesigned into an avant-garde space inspired by the vibrant 1930’s Shanghai Art Deco period. I was dying to see it.

I had been invited for 7. Ten minutes after and still many blocks away, the driver’s phone rang: “Khun Susie’s wondering where we are,” he said. I’d only met Kurt twice before, and each time for only a moment as he patrolled the lobby. I was surprised at the punctuality expected for what I assumed was a casual press get-together.

As we drew up in front of the hotel, Susie ran over and hurried me to the restaurant across from the hotel’s main entrance. “He’s waiting,” she whispered.

And then, alone in the bar, hand outstretched and beaming, Kurt said “Good evening and welcome.” I was dumbstruck with the honor of this private meeting with the master.

We sat at the bar on tall, shiny, dark blue, wicker, bar chairs. Kurt had an orange juice, I asked for a double Finlandia Vodka Martini on the rocks. The cheongsam-ed gal behind the bar asked me if I wanted olives or not. That doesn’t happen all the time in Asia.

I said to Kurt that the cheongsams, lined in crimson, look like they were designed by Shanghai Tang. Eyes fixed on me, Kurt pulled out his gold-cornered, leather memo pad and pointed to the name penciled at the top…David Tang! (The creator of Shanghai Tang.) Kurt said, “He’s staying in Phuket; we chatted this afternoon.”

Fixing him with my eyes, I undid the two frogs on my midnight blue, velvet, Mandarin-collared jacket to reveal a fuchsia-colored lining and the label…Shanghai Tang!

We winked at each other and laughed, as though to say “No one should mess with us!”

OK, so you had to have been there, but like dogs sniffing each other upon first meeting, we knew we were a couple of the few people in the world who know what they don’t know, and can still remember the rest.

Of the few hotels competing for the same clientele—The Sukhothai, Peninsula, and the Four Seasons, Kurt thinks the Four Seasons is the best. I agree and tell him that I’ve stayed there dozens of times since it opened, and have always made great friends with the managers. Of course, most of the staff are old friends as the majority have been there since the beginning too.

I pointed out that Kurt’s clientele doesn’t actually fit in the same mold. His clients are his friends and their friends. As though to prove my point, putting down his orange juice, he rose to greet a smiling gent, and said, “Glad to see you looking so healthy…and wealthy! I hope it’s not just the soft lighting in here.”

I looked around me. The existing two-storey, colonial building, home to The China House since 1990, has been completely transformed internally into an elegant and opulent restaurant reminiscent of 1930s Shanghai.

Upon passing through the glass entry, filled overhead with 100-plus, glowing, red lanterns you enter The Red Chamber, an awesome, two-storey space surrounded by screens and, every 2 yards, columns clad in high gloss Macassar ebony soar to the crimson and cinnabar ceiling. It is reminiscent of a great ballroom in the 1930’s art deco period.

Around this main floor, jewel-like cubicles are arranged under the overhanging second floor. Most of the walls are paneled with screens made of intricate fretwork, some backed with mirror, some open, some red, some emerald green, and some black.

Kurt and I were just off the main room in The Blue Bar with dark blue lacquer door panels that matched my jacket and had inset mirrors. The bar counter was copper-topped—Energizer bunnies will feel right at home. Stunned by the décor and detailing, I asked Kurt, “Who did this?”

“The renovations that took place over the course of four months this autumn were overseen by the renowned Neri and Hu Design and Research Office (NHDRO), a multi-disciplinary design practice which embodies architecture, interior, product, and graphic design. They’re based in Shanghai.”

Artwork depicting life in Shanghai during the art deco period, elegantly calligraphed Tang poems describing the significance of food and beverage, and black and white photos of the details of the Bund building decorate the main room.

Leading to the second floor is a grand stairway surrounded with red lacquered, mirror-backed, fretwork panels. Upstairs, there are small private booths with “opium bed” inspired banquettes surrounded with rich silk curtains and more fretwork panels. There are also some private dining rooms; this is one of them...

Ensconced in one of the fabulous private booths, I ordered a second martini and asked Kurt how he got into the hotel business.

“My mother used to look after very aristocratic families.”

(I didn’t know whether that meant she was an investment banker or a head housekeeper.)

“She was a highly educated and sophisticated person, and brought wonderful stories home to tell me.

“In 1957 I was to be called up into the German army. Not because I was fighting fit, but because there was a draft. Knowing that the army in those days was full of farm boys and laborers, I knew I had to go to school to avoid being drafted.

“I figured the only place I could experience the adventures of my mother would be working in grand hotels. So I wrote the famous hotel school in Lausanne and was immediately accepted.”

“But how did you end up in Pattaya, Thailand?” I asked.

“I met my future wife, Penny—she’s Thai you know—at the school in Lausanne. She was two years behind me. When I graduated, I went to London to work at the Hilton on Park Lane. I didn’t like it much. On the continent, hotel owners and managers dine with the staff once a week; they really respect each employee, and try to make everyone feel like one big happy family. In London I was just a number. So I moved to Pattaya in Thailand to be with my wife.

“It was 1964 and I was hired to manage Nipa Lodge, a small hotel owned by Ital-Thai, a consortium of companies owned by Giorgio Berlingieri and his partner. One day the United States government booked the entire place and needed even more rooms. Ital-Thai expanded the hotel and we were full for more than a year…very gratifying for the new manager of an hotel, and I guess Giorgio was pleased too, because in 1967, Italthai bought The Oriental Hotel in Bangkok, and Giorgio moved me to Bangkok to run it. That was almost 40 years ago!”

On the culinary front, The Oriental has appointed as The China House’s consultant chef, Jereme Leung, one of the most prominent Chinese chefs in the world, and founding chef of the much lauded Whampoa Club, the stunning Art-Deco style, cutting-edge modern, Shanghainese restaurant located in the prestigious Three on the Bund complex in Shanghai. One of Jereme Leung’s brightest protégés, Chef Kong Khai Meng, with extensive experience in both Hong Kong and Shanghai, heads the culinary team as resident chef of the restaurant.

Chef Kong has been well trained in all four cornerstones of Chinese cookery: Dim sum preparation, barbecue and roasting, wok handling, and cutting and carving. This unique expertise and the exacting standards instilled by Jereme Leung, is evident in his menu concept featuring the combination of classic Cantonese cuisine presented in an innovative fresh manner.

We perused the menu. Signature items, apart from the daily dim sum selection prepared from the external show kitchen, and live fish and seafood from the tanks, include “Peking Duck” right from the oven, “Slow Cooked Shark’s Fin in Golden Broth,” “Slow Cooked Abalone,” “Pan Seared Beef Tenderloin,” “Stir-fried Rice Vermicelli, Hokkien Style,” and “Wasabe Prawns.”

As I was here to taste and test, I ordered:

A27 – “Hot & Sour soup w/fresh lobster.”

A63 – “Roasted pigeon with ‘Teochew’ fermented soya bean sauce.”

A57 - "Roasted 'Peking Duck' served with traditional pancakes, scallions, and Hosin sauce."

A77 – “Duo of crispy monkey head mushrooms flavored with sweet, sour, and spiced plum dressing,” and a

Margaret Valley (Western Australia), Cabernet.

While the wine breathed and I luxuriated in the splendor of the moment, I asked Kurt if he’d had any significant cancellations due to the New Year’s Eve explosions in Bangkok.

He looked me straight in the eye and said, “None—the people who stay at The Oriental are world travellers; not only are they well travelled, they are well heeled. We are all familiar with the way of the world these days; if our time has come, it’s come, and there is little that any of us can do about it.

“New Year’s Eve, I stayed in the lobby for 15 hours, mingling with all my guests and some staff—my family. No one mentioned the explosions; no one asked me any questions.

“But I did have a security meeting with all of the staff this morning. I explained that targeting The Oriental would be suicide because the terrorists would be trapped by the river and could not get away, and, for now, none of the insurgents in Thailand have shown any suicidal tendencies.”

Sidebar: The official position in Bangkok is that the explosions were set to cause panic not death, but three people were tragically too close, and died. Like most countries in the world today, Thailand depends upon tourism to a very great extent. While The Oriental hasn’t suffered, many lesser places are experiencing cancellations. It all depends upon the world’s perception of the competence of the government. Personally, I see no evidence of increased security, but I go about my usual daily routine without concern. Edward Carter

The dazzling dishes arrived.

The soup with lobster from Phuket was a transparent, cinnabar color—I could see how carefully each teeny vegetable had been sliced; each noodle retained its shape and texture. It was squeaky fresh with the most marvelous silky texture.

The pigeon arrived as a whole bird in reassembled pieces including the head (could have done without that). The dark meat was moist but without much character—must have been farm raised—I’d have appreciated a little hint of the wild.

The mushroom dish was a wildly creative amalgam of shapes and flavors—delicious.

The duck, a luscious mahogany color (but still with its head on—ugh!), was carved tableside. After the usual pancakes with scallions and Hosin sauce, the legs and other meat came back to the table exquisitely transformed into crisp, sweet and sour delicacies—the epitome of Chinese culinary genius.

We tasted and tested. All I could say was, “Everything is perfect—service, décor, smell (there was jasmine on the breeze), color—everything!

Jovially bantering about hotels in Thailand, I told him I had been George Benny’s guest at The Sukhothai (where he is the GM) over Christmas.

“George Benny was with ‘us.’” Kurt speaks possessively about the Mandarin Oriental family and its alumni.

“So was Michael Matthews.” (Michael and I are of the same generation and share many opinions. Also both of us are published by Joe Brancatelli on his website www.JoeSentMe.com—the most read business travel website for wing warriors.)

Kurt’s been around longer than anyone: forty years as GM of The Oriental, the Mandarin Oriental’s elder spokesman/ambassador-with-portfolio/doyen, the father of virtually every concept, and still the leader of the pack. Recently he gave up his penthouse apartment atop the hotel and moved to Suan Thip Island, 32 km upstream. I asked him if he commuted by jet-ski?

“I could,” he said. We all know that Kurt can do almost anything and usually does!

“Love your reports,” Paul Jones, the hotel manager came to our compartment. (It did feel like being in a Pullman sleeper.)

“Some of them, perhaps,” I said; knowing my report on the Dhara Dhevi was not what any of them had expected.

“No,” he went on, “there’s a big difference when a pro evaluates something opposed to a travel writer’s bitching. We all appreciated your candor and advice.”

I appreciated his appreciation.

My eye catches more details:
• Beyond the curtains, the window panes are beveled! Out the window a Rolls-Royce and several stretch BMW 7 series unload (not quite the word) multi-hued revelers—it’s another dazzling night at The Oriental.
• The window reveals are mirrored. I thought I invented that. It doubles the apparent view, and I’ve done it in every home I’ve ever had for more than 40 years.
• Behind the drapes enclosing the booth, the walls are mirrored…for a quick lipstick fix perhaps. Only the overly curious will discover all the delights of this magic place.

The invisible waiter asks if we want dessert. I don’t usually, but I had to try something. I chose the Curry Chocolate Ice Cream.

It arrived with smoking dry ice in the saucer: After all the fabulous flavors and presentations, this paled into insignificance—I couldn’t taste the curry and the ice dried up too soon.

Then the otherwise faultless service was marred by a bit of unnecessary pomp and circumstance. The silver, lidded, toothpick box was presented with practiced pomp: the lid removed and leaned against the box. Circumstance: the lid reflected the hanging light right into my face. I reversed its position and hit Kurt right in the eyes.

I motioned the waiter over and asked him to pull a chair up to the end of the table. This was very un-Thai, but I insisted. He sat down and I did the toothpick box formality. The reflected light hit him square in his eyes! He won’t ever forget that moment, and the Mandarin mood will never be shattered again.

It was a divine evening, Kurt was at the top of his form, and I was so honored by his hospitality and respect.

I return it, Kurt, ten fold. Thank you very, very much. And please, never retire. None of us could take it…and neither could you.

The China House Restaurant is open for lunch (11.30 am – 2.30 pm) and dinner
(7.00 pm – 11.30 pm) daily. Tel: 02-659-9000

Raise the Red Lantern! The China House is the most dazzling and delicious Chinese restaurant in the world!

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