It is conventional wisdom to love Le Bouchon. Now a Bangkok institution, this eatery has been serving Lyonnnaise bistro food to hungry gourmands for more than a decade. And it has been doing this amid a confusing tangle of go-go bars and bikini-clad dancers in one of the world’s most notorious red light districts—ultimately the key to this restaurant’s unlikely success. That is because, despite the occasional culinary misfire or wandering cockroach or feeble tuna salad amuse bouche, Le Bouchon evokes the Bangkok experience for every visitor to the City of Angels in a way that no other restaurant has really managed to capture. The narrow, dimly lit room dotted with mostly French-speaking customers spells an oasis amid chaos; the scribbled menu on a blackboard featuring “specials” that never change signals some sort of charm. Let’s not forget the accommodating and attractive all-female waitstaff, which reminds diners that they are indeed still in Bangkok. And if the food is good that day? Only a bonus, because diners are willing to give Le Bouchon what they won’t give many other restaurants in better locations: a big break. That break includes the kitchen, which can churn out a gem or a lemon, depending on the confluence of the planets that day. So if the venison tastes gamey and tough, try the heartwarming hunk of brisket known as pot au feu or fragrant cassoulet—the epitome of French comfort food, even in the middle of a Bangkok summer. If the lentil salad with pork tongue lacks any sort of discernible flavor or the terrine of foie gras tastes a bit like it’s been bulked up with cream, go for the robust pairing of wild mushroom and grilled chicken liver or hard-to-mess-up plate of greens crowned with blue cheese pastry. It’s a good idea to know the tried-and-true favorites and stick to them, since they will rarely vary from the realm of the acceptably good: juicy parcels of foie gras ravioli, or tasty—if expensive—slices of saucisson. That break even extends to the steak tartare, prepared by the head hostess with fistfuls of pepper and strangely missing the requisite side of French fries. Just don’t venture into the wild and woolly world of desserts unless you have a hankering for the sort of sweets trailer park wives keep in their refrigerators for fancy guests: the lemon tart is suggestive of the Florida Keys, not Paris, while the crunchy chocolate cake just conjures up Mars. But never mind. In the end, the food is secondary because Le Bouchon is like our very first girlfriend. Even if there are younger bistros out there that serve better food, have cleaner floors or more professional waiters, there are none in the world with exactly the same hold on our affections.
