Bangkok:
It's been a rough year for Thailand. First there were the images of deadly street battles between soldiers and protesters beamed around the world. Then people living in neighboring dictatorships snickered that Thailand was a democracy in decline. Foreign tourists wondered whether it was safe to travel here.
And now this: An Australian chef has the audacity to declare that he is on a mission to revive Thai cuisine.
David Thompson, who earned a Michelin star for his cooking at Nahm, a Thai restaurant in London, opened a branch of the acclaimed restaurant in Bangkok this month.
Mr. Thompson says that Thai cooking is "decaying" and has less complexity and variation than it once did. "I'm striving for authenticity, that's my primary goal," he said in an interview.
In the long and mostly friendly history of relations between Thailand and the West, Thais have welcomed outsiders into their boardrooms, classrooms and bedrooms. But the kitchen is another matter.
Suthon Sukphisit, a food writer for Thai newspapers and an authority on Thai cuisine, reacts to Mr. Thompson's stated mission as if he had just bitten into an exceptionally hot chili pepper.
"He is slapping the faces of Thai people!" Mr. Suthon said in an interview. "If you start telling Thais how to cook real Thai food, that's unacceptable."
Mr. Suthon has not eaten at Nahm -- "I'm not going to," he said.
Cooking is profoundly wound up with Thailand's identity. Many recipes were tested and refined in royal palaces. And Thais often spend a good share of their day talking about this or that dish they tried; a common greeting is, "Have you eaten yet?"
Mr. Thompson's quest for authenticity is perceived by some Thais as a provocation, a pair of blue eyes striding a little too proudly into the temple of Thai cuisine. Foreigners cannot possibly master the art of cooking Thai food, many Thais say, because they did not grow up wandering through vast, wet markets filled with the cornucopia of Thai produce, or pulling at the apron strings of grandmothers and maids who imparted the complex and subtle balance of ingredients required for the perfect curry or chili paste. Foreigners, Thais believe, cannot stomach the spices that fire the best Thai dishes.
"When someone comes along and presents himself as the spokesman of Thai cuisine it's like Osama bin Laden going to the Vatican and saying he is the high authority on Catholicism," said Bob Halliday, a Bangkok-based food writer who has lived in Thailand for four decades.
Mr. Halliday says he has received e-mails from Thai friends criticizing Mr. Thompson and is not that surprised by the hubbub.
"Politics is peace and love compared to what happens in the Thai cooking world," Mr. Halliday said.
Politics, of course, have been exceptionally tempestuous, too. The Thai psyche has been battered by four years of political factions dueling for power on the streets, a political polarization akin to America's culture wars, only here political disagreements are settled with snipers and grenade attacks. Many Thais feel that their country and its political problems have been oversimplified, misrepresented and misreported by the outside world.
In this context, Mr. Thompson's occasional lack of modesty -- the biographical information he e-mailed to this reporter describes him as "widely acclaimed as an expert on Thai food" -- comes across to some as yet another indignity in Thailand's annus horribilis. It wounds the pride of some Thais that Nahm in London was the first Thai restaurant to win a Michelin star. What is worse, the second Thai restaurant with that honor, Kiin Kiin, is in Copenhagen and is also opening a Bangkok branch this month.
Nutchanand Osathanond, a food enthusiast who divides her time between Paris and Bangkok, recently tried a dozen dishes at Nahm in Bangkok.
"I can't tell you why it's not authentic, but it's not," she said. "Some of the tastes are too pronounced -- and it's drowning in spice." (Mr. Thompson may have the distinction as the only foreigner in spice-crazed Thailand to be accused of liking his food too hot.)
But Ms. Nutchanand praised Mr. Thompson for experimenting. "You need somebody like him to push Thai food forward," she said.
A meal at Nahm is not your generic pad Thai or green curry -- those are not on the menu. Mr. Thompson's food is a riot of flavors and obscure ingredients. He has collected 500 books of Thai recipes, some of them more than a century old, and pores through these tomes for ideas. He often finds inspiration in what are known as funeral books, published by families at the deaths of their loved ones. They can contain recipes that in life were guarded like state secrets but in death are distributed for all to share.
Mr. Thompson calls these books "troves." His mission, he said, is to "excavate and reveal these wonderful dishes."
Dinner at Nahm, which is in Bangkok's Metropolitan hotel, starts with tapas-like appetizers like a betel leaf filled with the grapefruit-like pomelo, grilled prawns, toasted coconut and peanuts, all dressed with palm sugar and tamarind.
Salad selections include one made from grilled chicken, mint, leaves from the mango-related hog plum, lemongrass, red chilis and sweet chili paste.
After an assortment of curries, soups and stir-fried dishes there is durian, the odoriferous but treasured Southeast Asian fruit, mixed with sticky rice and coconut milk, a dish so deliciously rich the restaurant should require consent from the diner's physician.
Mr. Thompson, 50, has been coming to Thailand on and off since 1986 and now, he says, "I'm coming home." He speaks and reads Thai and his partner, Tanongsak Yordwai, 51, who also cooks in the restaurant, is Thai.
Pongtawat Chalermkittichai, a Thai chef who has opened restaurants around the globe (including Kittichai in Manhattan) and has a televised cooking show in Thailand, is a big fan of Mr. Thompson's food -- he cannot describe dishes without his mouth watering, he said.
But he says that Mr. Thompson is up against a basic problem facing all high-end Thai restaurants in Bangkok. The Thai elite are reluctant to open their wallets for Thai food because they can get it cheaply on the street or have their maids cook it for them.
Mr. Thompson has a set menu for 1,500 baht, or about $50, reasonable in Hong Kong or New York, but well above the 25 baht a Bangkok resident might pay for a green papaya salad prepared roadside and eaten on plastic tables and flimsy stools.
"It's going to be really challenging," said Mr. Pongtawat, who goes by Chef Ian and once worked with Mr. Thompson at a restaurant in Australia.
Mr. Thompson says he knows he will not please all Thais. "But I'd like to win over a few," he said.
The highest compliment he has received came from the wife of a Thai government official who dined at Nahm in London. After finishing her meal she was leaving the restaurant with a dour expression.
"I came here to complain," she said, according to Mr. Thompson. "But I can't."