Emilia

127 Gaysorn Tower, 1st Floor

Ratchadamri Rd, Lumphini

Pathum Wan

Bangkok, Thailand 

BY NEAL MARTIN | MAY 31, 2024

The Food:

Bread with olive oil and balsamic

Peeled tomatoes with Stracciatella and rocket

Beef tartare with toasted sourdough

Cavolo Nero soup

Black squid ink tagliatelle with caviar

Sea urchin tagliolini

Grilled samekarei (shark turbot)

Charcoal grilled Porterhouse Ranger Valley steak

Tiramisù ice cream cake with brown butter waffle

The Wines:

1999 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Grands-Echézeaux	NR
1950 Mouton-Rothschild	90
1982 Mouton-Rothschild	96
1953 Mouton-Rothschild	NR
1959 Château Margaux	93
1995 Haut-Brion	95
1970 Latour	NR
1970 Etienne Guigal  Côte-Rôtie La Mouline	93
1999 Domaine Jamet Côte-Rôtie	97
2009 Domaine van Berg Le Vin Le Plus Simplemenet	91
2006 Domaine Dujac Charmes-Chambertin Grand Cru	92

During my stay in Thailand to attend my youngest brother’s wedding, I ensured there was one night when I could catch up with a good friend and share a bottle (or two). With my daughter Daisy in tow, I apologized in advance for the conversation that would broach a range of thrilling topics such as the difference between terre blanche and terre rouge, Brettanomyces or best Clos-de-Bèze producer. If she thought Sixth Form common room chat was inane, this would take it to a whole new level. I had some trepidation introducing the 17-year-old to her inaugural wine dinner since I’ve long espoused the view that wine connoisseurship, alongside golf, jazz and jumbo corduroys, all indicators that one’s youth has ended, and it’s time to grow up. That is why all the aforementioned should be put aside for your mid-thirties.

Peeled tomatoes with Stracciatella and rocket

As it turns out, the first wine that she sips is a not-too-shabby 1999 Grands-Echézeaux from DRC with a 1982 Mouton-Rothschild chaser. Oenophiles would jump up and down like Tom Cruise on Oprah’s sofa at the prospect… My daughter is merely bemused by how normal people become irrationally animated about such a banal thing as fermented grape juice. When asked for her opinion, she replied that all the wines tasted the same. Before you protest, there’s a kernel of truth in that. Hey, wouldn’t you have replied similarly at that age? I would. To compensate for her vinous ennui, at least we were in the company of a thoroughly entertaining and passionate group of Bangkok wine lovers, and the food was exceptional. Indeed, walking around the huge outdoor Chatuchak market the following day, we kept reliving various dishes. It was one of those dinners whose caliber really sunk in the following day, and, come my year-end review, expect to see Emilia in the top echelons of my restaurant experiences.

Beef tartare with toasted sourdough

Emilia is located in the heart of the capital, just outside one of the world’s largest shopping malls. The restaurant looks pretty innocuous as you enter the Gaysorn Tower arcade, which is not particularly large, with an open frontage. Nothing says: This might well be the best Italian in Bangkok. Owner Son Wason Vitanakorn presides over several restaurants specializing in different cuisines, though remarkably, it is not the young entrepreneur’s primary vocation. Emilia focuses on Italian cuisine with carefully sourced high-end ingredients. What I really appreciate is that Emilia doesn’t overcomplicate things. Dishes didn’t brag, and each was underlined with effortless quality.

Cavolo Nero soup

A ten-course menu was specially arranged for the dinner. The omens were good when the bowl of bread arrived: gooey and flavorsome, heightened by the top-grade olive oil and a slightly viscous balsamic. Hot on its heels came peeled red and green tomatoes with Stracciatella and rocket, the tomatoes with just the right amount of piquancy and the Stracciatella like a cloud of creamy goodness.

Black squid ink tagliatelle with caviar

The beef tartare was moist and clearly sourced from the finest cattle, with just enough fat content. A blob of caviar imparted salinity, while the bitter leaf salad and the rectangle of toasted sourdough together made the perfect foil. The next dish was introduced as kale soup. Kale? Hey, I’m not on some zero-calorie diet. Fortunately, the Tuscan kale, or Cavolo Nero, was less bitter. Exquisitely presented with the sour cream dotted into a tree-like pattern, every spoonful was delicious.

The black squid ink tagliatelle with caviar was one of the evening’s highlights. It just looked the part: lucid greys with glistening tiny baubles of caviar atop. It was perfectly balanced, the pasta al dente and the fact that there were just three of four mouth-watering mouthfuls heightened the gustatory pleasure and did not leave me feeling excessively full.

Sea urchin tagliolini

Perhaps the sea urchin tagliolini had an impossible task following that squid tagliatelle, and I might have served them the opposite way round. Urchin is subtle in flavor and can be easily overwhelmed. This was clearly sourced to a high specification and complemented the tagliolini, though it did not set off gustatory fireworks.

Grilled samekarei (shark turbot)

The 2.7kg samekarei, otherwise known as shark turbot, was presented whole to our table by our waiter before being portioned. This is less meaty and flakier than regular turbot, neutral in flavor. The best part is the crispy skin and the umami sensation around the head. Delicious. (Daisy reliably informs me that a bowl of Ragù pasta did the rounds, but I was too busy waffling on about the minutiae of the differences between terre rouge and terre blanche soils and missed out.)

Charcoal grilled Porterhouse Ranger Valley steak

The fish was immediately outshone by the stunning charcoal-grilled Porterhouse Ranger Valley steak. Wow. This is some of the finest beef I’ve encountered since I almost OD’d on Wagyu in Japan: perfect fatness and unbelievably tasty in flavor. I tried it first without the balsamic sauce, thinking that it could not be improved. I was wrong, and I could easily have devoured the entire plate.

Tiramisù ice cream cake with brown butter waffle

To finish, a stone-cold classic tiramisù ice cream cake with brown butter waffle. It is Daisy’s favorite dessert, so she immediately got to work with her spoon. Asked whether it is superior to her mum’s, she tactfully replied that they’re different. Anyway, the one here is fabulous.

Guests generously bought their own wines for this dinner, and we were treated to some exceptional bottles. This merry band of wine lovers, refreshingly with equal representation from each gender, had coalesced during the pandemic and continue to meet regularly and share contents from their cellars. The first bottle was the aforementioned 1999 Grands-Echézeaux from Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, which our host had opened the previous night at another dinner, so it was just ‘to see’. You could tell it was a great wine. However, it wasn’t an instance whereby a wine was better the second day, and it was too oxidative. Maybe that’s why my daughter did not react with euphoria.

Things got going with a series of First Growths, including one that I had never tasted. The 1950 Mouton-Rothschild comes from a halcyon era for the Fir…, sorry, Second Growth when Baron Philippe was pulling out all the stops in what must have seemed like a futile quest for promotion. It is a rather forgotten vintage, more known on the Right Bank. This was a welcome surprise. In fact, I mistook it for a nobler vintage. Decayed red fruit on the nose, antique bureau, pencil shavings and cedar unfurl gradually, fully mature yet still vital. The palate might be considered lightweight yet retains a fine-boned structure and light grip. It shows beguiling balance with a classically styled and regal finish. All it lacks is heft and density. While I would not entertain this vintage much longer, it is not drying out and deserves applause. The 1982 Mouton-Rothschild, well, what is there left to say? A lot, actually, because this wine is prone to variance between bottles. This one, bought a decade ago, was a fine example that suggests it is reaching full maturity. There’s plenty of dashing and glossy black fruit on the nose, with cedar, a touch of brown spices, graphite and sage. It’s decadent but more evolved than others. The palate is immense with body and girth, layers of slightly savory black fruit that is almost viscous in texture, quintessential Claret yet with just a suggestion of Mediterranean flair. Based on this bottle, I would be popping corks now, but as I mentioned, the next could be more youthful and primal. The 1953 Mouton-Rothschild is a renowned growing season, though this was not the best bottle.

The 1959 Château Margaux is a splendid wine even if it lags behind its First Growth peers. This example possesses a touch more fruit on the nose than previous ones, redcurrant and strawberry, wilted rose petals and hints of Provençal herbs unfurling in the glass, though there are no fireworks. The palate is very well balanced with admirable precision, real weight and presence, and then it eases back to a harmonious finish. The precocity of that season is tangible, though it politely refuses to deliver the pizzazz and audacity you can find elsewhere. The 1995 Haut-Brion is currently strutting its stuff: dark berry fruit, Earl Grey tea and warm red brick flourish on the nose, classic yet vibrant and compelling. The palate has reached its plateau after nigh 30 years, with finely embroidered tannins, impressive fruit and weight, yet with First Growth’s signature sophistication and charm on the svelte, slightly peppery, almost understated finish. It knows it doesn’t have to do too much to impress you. Other bottles included a 1961 L’Eglise-Clinet that I will blend into a write-up of 1961 Pomerols coming to a ‘screen’ near you soon and a corked 1970 Latour. That particular vintage for Latour is like Russian roulette.

The 1970 Côte-Rôtie La Mouline from Guigal is the oldest vintage I have tasted. Because of its age and the fact that 1970 was not a great Rhône vintage, I approached it with trepidation. Too old? Not in the slightest! Vestiges of red fruit mixed with saddle leather, thyme, rooibos, rosemary and cracked black pepper intermingle on the fully mature nose. The palate is not powerful and might lack some grip, yet there is balance and poise. White pepper commingles with sage, and a gentle but controlled crescendo reminds you that this comes from serious terroir. I would not leave bottles too long, but I adored this Rhône. The 1999 Côte-Rôtie from Domaine Jamet was one of the high points of a dinner with plenty of them. This is reaching its plateau: layers of melted red fruit on the nose, hickory, sage and wild fennel, beautifully defined and intense, though never overpowering. The palate is quite full in the mouth, yet its elegance and panache can’t be ignored. Extremely harmonious and smooth on the finish, with just a dab of garrigues and bouquet garni on the aftertaste, this is exquisite and reaffirms that Jamet might be my favorite Rhône vigneron.

There were fewer bottles from Burgundy on this occasion, but I was privileged with an elusive 2009 Le Vin Le Plus Simplement from Domaine Van Berg. Photographer Bernard Van Berg migrated to the region with his wife Judith just after the millennium. His goal, or more accurately, calling, was to make minuscule quantities of wine that were not ‘natural’ in the commonly perceived sense of the word, but practicing viticulture that was, quoting Van Berg himself, a ‘pact with nature’. Based on the fringe of Meursault, some of his parcels were located on the wrong side of the RN74, ergo some local winemakers scoffed at the idea of producing top-end wine. He farmed just a couple of hectares. Many vines were trained individually on their stakes with inter-row wild vegetation to maintain natural biodiversity. He employed a horse rather than a tractor, tiny yields (under 15hL/ha according to the label) and a small wooden press in his home, matured without sulfur or filtration. He presaged the likes of Charles Lachaux insofar that they share a stubborn-minded, obsessive nature on how things should be done. Another comparison would be the extraordinarily high prices that the wines sold for. I use the past tense because the couple sold their parcels in 2017, and their fairytale story reached its denouement. This was the first bottle that I tasted. Rarity and high prices are no prerequisites for greatness, and admittedly, I had a bit of skepticism. However, I can’t deny that this is quite delicious, with maraschino cherries, iodine and marmalade on the beautifully defined nose. The palate has a confit-like sweetness, black cherries and blood orange, fine tannins and an almost Gamay-like finish (indeed, Van Berg cultivated the variety). Sold as a Vin de France because he did not agree with the INAO’s rules and regulations, it is a delightful wine that I’ll probably drink again.

Finally, the 2006 Charmes-Chambertin Grand Cru from Domaine Dujac is lovely. Black cherries, hints of blood orange and a touch of wilted violets on the nose are very well-defined. The palate is beautifully balanced with a crisp line of acidity, quite “correct” and linear, perhaps more Mazoyères than Charmes. It’s probably a notch up from my last bottle six years ago.

This was a wonderful evening centered around some of the best Italian dishes I’ve eaten in a long while. Who knew that it would transpire, in all places, in Bangkok? We enjoyed a stellar array of wines, and more importantly, the guests really made it a memorable evening. Despite the caliber of fermented grape juice, Daisy did not have a eureka moment and did not depart a wine-obsessed oenophile. Thank God. She’s got the rest of her life to succumb to the wonders and ridiculousness of fermented grape juice.

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