Living
D R E A M D E S T I N AT I O N
Keemala PHUKET, THAILAND
A hillside carpeted in lush rainforest is where you’ll find Keemala, a Thai resort like no other. The 38 villas have been designed to reflect four fictional ancient clans, with architectural styles and interior furnishings based around the lives and customs of each. The Bird’s Nest Pool Villa (at left) is Keemala’s top level of accommodation; needless to say, the eight villas each have a pool and spectacular views. The resort spa also offers a range of holistic therapies, while two restaurants serve up beautiful food. Tatyana Leonov FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE
What’s your beef? BY
Amelia Lester
ILLUSTRATION BY SIMON LETCH
O
N THE eve of Donald Trump’s recent 12-day tour of Asia, the Japanese worried about the tweeter-in-chief exacerbating an already tense situation with the North Koreans. They also braced for a gaffe of the culinary kind, fearing that at a state dinner with PM Shinzo Abe, Trump would ask for his wagyu beef well done. Worse, that Trump might ask for it to be served with tomato sauce. “We will prepare ketchup,” a Japanese foreign affairs official told ABC news. I guess even professional diplomats are allowed to roll their eyes sometimes. Those of us who prefer our steak charred are maligned worldwide. Yet is it possible to mount a defence of familiar flavours, the seeking out of home comforts while abroad? I ask because, on a recent extended trip around the Japanese mainland, just before a bullet train journey, I was inexplicably drawn into a McDonald’s. Breakfasts had lately been a blur of exquisite taste sensations, involving tender grilled salmon, kicky fermented soy beans,
To confess to eating a Big Mac in Japan is akin to admitting you prefer milk chocolate to dark.
pickled plums, rich miso soup and crunchy lettuce leaves. If you eat fish for every meal, I am here to tell you that your skin will look amazing. Moreover, every meal left me feeling light, satiated and, hopefully, with a few extra months tacked on to my life. Yet a Big Mac called – less a siren song than a pedestrian blare. This meal had only one taste, and although the sweetness of it lingered for the entire train ride, I had no regrets. To confess to eating a Big Mac in Japan is, I’m aware, akin to admitting you prefer milk chocolate to dark, or that you’d take iceberg lettuce over rocket. But there are McDonald’s all over Japan, which must mean the locals love it, too. Likewise, you’re never far from an Italian restaurant. You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten pizza in the old samurai town of Kanazawa, made by the third-place winner in the international Neapolitan pizza awards. Like most Japanese simulacra of Western foods, there’s something a bit strange about it, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s chewier. More likely to be covered in little squares of deli ham. And overall the flavours are smoother, and less spiky, than at your average gourmet pizza place back home. Besides, the gluttonous act of
tearing into a doughy slice is irresistible after a spate of proportioned bento-style meals. In Tokyo, at the New York Bar & Grill on the 52nd floor of the Park Hyatt, they serve a meticulously composed burger. It’s fascinating to observe the Japanese penchant for perfection applied to what is an inherently sloppy object. The brioche is a crisp dome of air; the meat entirely devoid of those mysterious gristly bits; the tomato slice genuinely juicy. Of course, it comes with a house-made relish, nothing like the cloying Heinz stuff. And I noticed with awe that it didn’t yield to my grip, instead maintaining its structural integrity, bite after ravenous bite. Now that’s a competently made burger. Yet I’d be lying if there wasn’t part of me that wished I was enjoying the special sauce – and free Wi-Fi – that come with the McDonald’s version. After all, millions of dollars of engineering ingenuity have been spent on ensuring it tastes good. This is likely to be the only time I’m going to say this, but: I get where Trump is coming from. Longdistance travel can be turbulent, not least in a gastrointestinal sense. If it keeps him quiet, let the man have his plank of beef. n
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