James Boulangerie

The dusk of the Chao Phraya River flows over the glass curtain wall of ICONSIAM and falls on the silver knife blade of James Boulangerie. This French post house floating between luxury and fireworks bakes the flour fragrance of the Left Bank of Paris, the fat jade code of Angus cattle, and the hot and humid monsoon of Bangkok into a taste Madeleine inlaid with gold foil. When the texture of the steak stretches between the teeth, you will know that the so-called "slow food" is to teach people to write a love letter to time with knives and forks in a fast-paced era. [Stone kiln charcoal fire, texture becomes poetry] In the open kitchen, the mature steak is undergoing the final nirvana. The rose-colored cut surface of Chateaubriand oozes gravy, the sea salt blooms the starlight of the Himalayas between the texture, and the thick port wine sauce is just like the lingering night fog of the Seine River wrapped around the New Bridge. The moment the waiter brought the cast iron pan, the concerto of caramelized butter and rosemary suddenly sounded. The side dish of asparagus leans against the edge of the plate in an emerald posture, and the golden folds of the potato mille-feuille hide the whispers of an entire Burgundy autumn. [Bread Temple, Time Enlightenment] The prologue of French bread cannot be skipped. The crisp sound of the baguette cracking awakens the flour's century-old homesickness, and the honeycomb-shaped cross-section of the croissant is like the relief in the Hall of Mirrors of the Palace of Versailles. Dipping a spoonful of black truffle soup will gradually reveal the corridors of the Louvre on the tip of your tongue. The dessert cart is the last fugue poem. The mille-feuille civilization of Napoleon puff pastry collapses on the tip of the fork, the acidity of the lemon tart pierces the tropical heat, and when you dip the last drop of coffee with Madeleine, the ferry on the Chao Phraya River outside the floor-to-ceiling window is pulling the lights into flowing gold foil - only at this moment do you understand Proust's recollection, which is the taste development technique of folding time and space. 【Postscript: Cultivating time in the aroma of butter】 James Boulangerie taught us: A high-level life is to allow yourself to become a steak that is being matured. When you tear open the air holes of the baguette while waiting for the main course, when the lip prints on the rim of the white wine glass overlap with the ripples on the river surface, when the sommelier pairs the steak with Burgundy's old world tannins - Fang realized that the so-called happiness in life is just under the glass dome of ICONSIAM, Listening to the symphony of knives and forks as an encore, Let the ripples of the Chao Phraya River dye the napkin into a never-fading gilded memory. Bangkok food secret language: "อร่อยมาก" (really delicious) - this is the highest tribute to French craftsmanship. If you chant "Merci" to the chef, the entire Seine will smile on the Chao Phraya River. May you and I be like the beef waiting to be transformed in the aging cabinet, always plump and full in the alternation of morning and evening at James Boulangerie, always embracing the certainty of being gently tamed by time.