“I speak quickly. I mumble. I have a rough sense of humour. And I’m vulgar,” says David Thompson as we take a seat in Long Chim, the ‘long term restaurant residency’ he’s just launched on the ground floor of Hovarda in London’s Soho.
As introductions go it’s certainly direct. Then again, Thompson isn’t exactly someone who’s afraid to say things as he sees them. Grazia once described him as being ‘endearingly frank and devilishly impudent’, which encapsulates his character perfectly. Throughout our conversation, he interjects with wry jokes and remarks that at times lead to uncontrollable giggles: he loved lockdown, is not a fan of Brexit, and thinks the interior of his new London restaurant – a vibrant tableau of neon signage, low lighting and smoky glass cabinets – looks like ‘a tart’s boudoir’. At one point he turns to his PR with a grin and says: “You may need to censor this.”
There is a serious side to Thompson, though. Long revered in his native Australia as the ‘godfather of Thai food’, he’s best known in the UK for his Nahm restaurant at The Halkin hotel in London, which opened in 2001, traded until 2012, and was the first Thai restaurant in Europe to win a Michelin star. While Nahm itself may not have endured in the capital, Thompson’s influence over London’s Thai restaurant scene has; Som Saa founders Andy Oliver and Mark Dobbie both worked for Thompson early in their careers, as did John Chantarasak, who launched his own Thai restaurant, AngloThai, in the capital last month.
Thompson refers to the likes of Oliver, Dobbie and Chantarasak affectionately as his ‘spawn’. “I think a good cook and a great restaurant has its own style, and even though there might be some elements of lifting and creating, a good cook will make it their own and that’s when it comes alive,” he says. “I see that in the Som Saa boys and John. No matter what they’ve picked up from me, they’ve made it their own. And as a consequence, London’s Thai restaurant scene is much the richer.”
A pause, and with a smile he adds: “I’m here to drag it down.”
‘Come and try’
So, what exactly has brought Thompson back to London after such a long absence? Rumours, ‘false and otherwise’ as he describes them, have swirled for some time that Thompson was plotting a return to UK shores. He did at one point a couple of years back secure a site in Chinatown, but those plans subsequently fell through.
The opportunity to finally come back came through Hus Vedat, the chef behind Turkish-inspired restaurant brand Hovarda. “My business partner is also partners with [Vedat], so I’m kind of like a bastard partner to him now.”
Long Chim is a very different beast to Nahm. The latter offered a refined, boundary-breaking take on high-end Thai cuisine, while the former is positioned as a more casual, low-key concept. The name means ‘come and try’, and the menu features a selection of ‘authentic and accessible’ dishes inspired by the food stalls and markets of modern Bangkok.
Long Chim London is a little savvier, and more self-effacing. It’s not serious and not earnest. That’s not my style
Thompson opened his first Long Chim in Singapore in 2015. That restaurant has since closed, but the chef has gone on to establish two Australian outposts in Sydney and Perth, as well as a location in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
How does London’s Long Chim compare to its international siblings? “It’s a little bit more elegant,” says Thompson, thoughtfully. “It’s a little savvier, and more self-effacing. It’s not serious and not earnest. That’s not my style.”
The launch menu is short, comprising just 15 dishes including desserts and sides. They include deep-fried vegetable rolls with a sweet sauce; grilled beef skewers with turmeric, galangal and coriander; cockle salad with smoky chilli paste and Thai basil; black tiger prawns baked with vermicelli, spring onions and celery; and a dessert of tapioca with coconut and corn. Most dishes are original to the London restaurant, with little crossover to the group’s Australian and Saudi outposts.
The plan was always for the menu to be tight, but its reduced length currently is indicative of the restaurant’s struggles to build up a full cohort of staff. “What the fuck have you guys done in England with your Brexit and staffing,” he asks, bluntly. “My god it’s hard.”
Plans are currently being actioned for a couple of team members from Thailand to join the brigade in the coming weeks, and at that point Thompson will begin working on new dishes. “The menu will expand in time, but I don’t want to add too much. A new restaurant is treacherous enough and I don’t want to open with a great variety of dishes that will then be fucked up. I’d rather start small and grow into it.”
This approach extends to the restaurant’s capacity too. Thompson says the restaurant could do up to 150 covers a night, but at the moment it is capped at 80. “In time it will open up,” he adds. “It’s a matter of just staffing.”
Solitude and self-discovery
Thompson makes no attempt to hide how he felt about the prospect of returning to London. “Post Covid I haven’t travelled that much. And I didn’t want to come. I was reluctant because I knew what it meant. It’s a huge undertaking. My feet hurt, I’m old [he turned 64 this year], everything. But I’ve landed happy.”
Before the pandemic, Thompson travelled extensively for both work and pleasure. “Too much,” he says by his own admission, before adding with a knowing wink: “Generally, just one step ahead of the police.” Covid, of course, changed all that. And while he acknowledges that there were moments of initial apprehension, the pandemic proved to be a revelation.
“When the demand of restaurants and staff and customers came to a halt, silencing all, it was a bit shaky, but I concluded that there was nothing I could do about it. I saw so many of my peers being traumatised by the prospects of something that wasn’t even settled.
“There was nothing I could do, it was beyond my control, all I could do was sit it out.”
I’ve never known a career that gives both deep satisfaction and makes you wish for solitary confinement
After decades spent in kitchens (Thompson made his name with Darley Street Thai in Sydney, which he opened in 1992), the chef now found himself forced into a period of stasis, and to his surprise, it agreed with him.
“I’ve never known a career that gives both deep satisfaction and makes you wish for solitary confinement.
“I found Covid had a hidden silver lining: quarantine. I loved it. I took to it with the same zeal a monk does himself, and I wouldn’t come out. I found I had a trait that I’d long supressed and never had the opportunity to develop properly. It was sloth. It’s an underrated trait and quality. I think sins are wonderful. Gluttony pays my wages; and lust has come my way. Sloth, though, I found it makes a fun and relaxing bed fellow.
“So, while a lot of people came out of lockdown spent and traumatised, I came out happy. In denial and delirious, no doubt. But I loved it.”
He pauses and leans in before continuing. “Let me be serious for a moment before I get back to the banter. We’re often so busy doing what we do that we forget who we are. And we seem to justify ourselves by our actions and what we produce or what manifests itself. And I think that’s a load of bullshit. We are who we are, and we don’t have to do anything. We often forget that, and that hiatus was a pleasant reminder.”
Reaching maturity
When asked how the London restaurant scene has changed in the years since Nahm’s closure, Thompson’s answer is brief. “I have no idea,” he says, honestly. In terms of the Thai restaurant space, he notes a ‘greater sophistication’ that’s been propelled by the likes of Som Saa and AngloThai, and also, among others, Luke Farrell’s Speedboat Bar, which is located just a few doors away from Long Chim on Rupert Street.
Given many of the chefs in those restaurants cite Thompson’s own influence on their careers, presumably he holds a great deal of pride towards them? “Absolutely,” comes his immediate reply. “I’m proud when cooks do well, and I’m especially proud when they do well being themselves. That’s the vindication.
You can manufacture a restaurant to look pretty, but that’s its appearance, its façade. Its soul is its staff, and if they’re happy and relaxed, you cannot manufacture that.
“You’ve got to be happy to see someone reaching that stage. Me, I’m on the other side. They’re on their way up, while I’m going down. That’s why I’m a much kinder man. When I was at Nahm I was an asshole. Well, not an asshole, but I was certainly more demanding. But as I’ve got older, I’ve become a lot more relaxed.
“It’s maturity and it’s taken a fucking long time to get there.”
Working in the kitchen is still hard graft (“We did 80 people on the first night here and fuck me dead it was tough”), particularly at the moment when the restaurant is operating without a full team, but Thompson is impressed by those he’s working with. They include Patipan ‘Pae’ Jipromma, who was previously head chef at Thompson’s Michelin-starred Aksorn restaurant in Bangkok and is leading the kitchen at Long Chim London alongside him.
Creating a sense of camaraderie between the team is crucial. “It creates respect between the staff,” Thompson continues. “They respect and support each other, and any mistakes that happen are looked after with a kindness that is pleasing to me.
“You can manufacture a restaurant to look pretty, but that’s its appearance, its façade. Its soul is its staff, and if they’re happy and relaxed, you cannot manufacture that. Nor can you replicate it or falsely represent it.”
Just a residency?
As well as developing and running the restaurant, Thompson hopes to use his time in the UK to improve the supply of Thai ingredients into the country. Right now, he is importing the many of the specialist ingredients himself directly from Thailand, but with the help of other chefs in the space like Oliver, Chantarasak and Farrell he hopes to build more robust supply lines that they can all benefit from. “We’re bonding together to help each other and provide a better service,” he says.
“There are much better systems set up in Thailand and here now compared to when I had Nahm to facilitate a much easier exporting of fresh ingredients.”
Given Long Chim has been positioned in its press notes as being just a residency that’s meant to run until early 2025, I note that Thompson often speaks about his plans in longer terms. Indeed, if it was such a temporary venture, then why spend money overhauling the design of the Hovarda restaurant space?
Thompson will not go as far as to say that the plan is for the restaurant to be a permanent fixture, but he also doesn’t rule it out. “I’ll be staying here until at least February, maybe even March,” he reveals. “This place needs commitment… and I’m a man to be committed.”