This Suk 31 charcoal grill will satisfy all your carnivorous cravings.
This review took place in April 2019 and is based on a visit to the restaurant without the restaurant's knowledge. For more on BK's review policy, click here.
Passing through Thaan’s perpetually smoky open kitchen that leads to its compact dining room feels like stumbling on a back-alley sensation. Barely seating 20, it’s a cozy, romantic, if slightly claustrophobic, space whose mix of European elegance and Japanese quaintness shouts money.
Bottles of wine and contemporary art pieces line the walls, tasteful tableware has you squinting in the dim light to make out labels (those cordless lamps are from Aussie designers Neoz, by the way).
A shiny Josper grill and a name that references a type of local charcoal would appear to promise meat (mostly flown in from Australia) that’s smoky and charred in good measure. On our visit, early on a Friday night, they’re out of the Australian wagyu “futari” oyster blade (B950 for 250g), but staff point us towards the Thai wagyu “Himawari” chuck roll (from B650/100g), only available in a considerably larger cut, and almost twice the price per gram.
What comes out is admittedly a nice glistening medium-rare (we weren’t asked our preferred doneness), if a tad under-seasoned. But it’s hard to justify the B2.5K spend on a cut of beef so tough and gristly in parts—regardless of how local it is or what the cow may have eaten while alive (apparently, leftover bits from the sake-making process).
Elsewhere Thaan dips into that old hi-so restaurant trick of adding premium imported ingredients where really there is no need. A gloopy mac and cheese is rendered all the gloopier by a massive hunk of foie gras (B420). The smorrebrod topped with not only 50g of A4 wagyu but also a hefty blob of uni (B580) is so over-the-top it just about works—shame this tiny textural luxury melts in your mouth in an instant, leaving only a twinge of buyers’ regret.
We’ll vouch for decent standbys like the charred triple corn (B250) served with burnt butter and feta cheese or the not-too-chewy beef tongue with a mild salsa verde (B250), but can’t shake the feeling of being fleeced.
Staff, mostly attentive to the point of being cloying, can drop the ball. It’s only after umming and ahhing over the organic wine menu (from B500 by the glass, B1,600/bottle) for five minutes that the waitstaff tell us there’s another “normal” wine menu (from B350/glass, B1,400).
Bangkok’s crying out for more cool, indie steakhouses. This sleek spot is half-way there, but leaves more of a mark on your wallet than your memory. We’ll stick with the tried and trusted hotels for now.