Finding a Lost Royal Culinary Legacy

The Bunnag family has long been a pillar of Thai history, yet the contributions of women remain largely in the shadows. Beyond the political achievements of the men, the family’s aristocratic women cultivated a profound culinary mastery that defined generations. Though absent from formal chronicles, their influence on Thai heritage is profound—none more so than one remarkable cook whose story is finally being told.

The Name That Haunted Me

I must have been around fifteen years old when I first heard about her. I had asked my mother why my older sister Nid could cook Thai food so well. I noticed that my sister’s food had a polished quality, almost overtly refined for someone so young. The year was 1975 and we were living in Washington, D.C. My mother said, “Oh, Nid was always interested in cooking at a really young age, so when she was around fourteen we sent her to classes with Khun Ya Jeeb.” My mother, who was not really into cooking, paused, a thoughtful look came over her; then continued, “Khun Ya Jeeb – she was an amazing cook, everything she made was special, very intricate … but …she was having financial difficulties. We sent Nid, partly to help her, and also for Nid to learn.” (Khun Ya is Thai for grandmother. Thais will use this term for a respected elder who may or may not be related.) This lady turned out to be Jeeb Bunnag whom my mother deemed a culinary genius.

Our family moved to America in 1966 when my father was hired by The Voice of America. He had been recommended by another Bunnag, Princess Nu (Sasithornpatnwadi), who was already working there by the time we arrived. My sister, who was twelve years older than me, ran our family kitchen with my mother’s help, not the other way around. Our menu at this stage mostly rotated around Gaeng Kiew Wan Neu (my fathers favorite) – with the big purplish aubergine substituted for the round Thai eggplants, Gaeng Massaman, Pad Prik King, Gaeng Kua Sapparot and Nam Prik Kapi (without Pla Tu fish, as there were none to be had back then).

Washington, D.C. at that time had a small Chinatown where my mother shopped for some ingredients, but mostly, our spices and Thai foodstuffs came via the diplomatic channel as we were on close terms with the Thai Military attaché. The capital, however, had a bustling seafood market at the waterfront very near our apartment, where we bought Maryland blue crabs, shrimps, flounder, shad and shad roe. We fried the shad to substitute for the Pla Tu.

After university, my sister got a job at the World Bank, and moved out to share an apartment with a co-worker who was a French woman. They traveled together to France on vacations, and this friend (who was from Marseille) taught her Bouillabaisse, Aioli, and other Provençal dishes. From this point on, my sister rarely cooked Thai food again but became very good at making Western fare. And thus, my sister left behind the culinary lessons of Khun Ya Jeeb. But for some reason, that name was etched in the back of my mind, and even though I really love to eat Thai food, I had no interest in cooking at all at that point in time.

The Forty-Year Search

In 1981 I married a Thai who came from the Svasti and Amranand clans. I remember asking one of his Svasti aunts, who was an avid eater, whether she had heard of Jeeb Bunnag. This aunt knew practically everyone in Bangkok society but she said the name didn’t ring a bell, although she knew many other Bunnags. For the next twenty years my husband and I traveled extensively for work, using Washington, D.C. as our base, while spending most Christmas holidays in the hills of Pa Mieng, north of Chiang Mai, at a secluded cottage we had bought. But still, every time I met a Bunnag I would ask if they knew or had heard of this lady named Jeeb Bunnag. Nobody did. Eventually, the name Khun Ya Jeeb ebbed away from me too.

The First Clue

In 2002, I bought a book called Thai Food, written by a chef named David Thompson. I flipped through it, read a few recipes and thought: finally, a Thai cookbook with substance. Then on page 133, a familiar name popped up. It was Jeeb Bunnag. Excitedly, I showed the book to my mother, saying, “Look Mummy, he’s written about Khun Ya Jeeb!” She smiled and said, “Huh … it took a farang (foreigner) to recognize her.” I devoured this book and felt that it was the best, most comprehensive Thai cookbook in English to date. Of course, Thompson never met Jeeb Bunnag in person but from what he wrote, he had learnt to cook Thai food in a refined manner from someone who had learnt the skills directly from her. The book made him very, very famous.

The Digital Discovery

Over a decade passed until one day I came across a Thai cooking blog. There are many blogs on Thai cuisine but I had never seen one like this. It was extremely well written, meticulously researched, erudite – simply put – in a class of its own. It was called Thaifoodmaster. And on this blog the name Jeeb Bunnag appeared again.

The blog was written by someone named Hanuman Aspler. I lurked on this blog for years, on and off, astounded by the information that this man was giving online. For free! His deep understanding of the history and gastronomy of Thai food was impressive. Perusing his articles I was convinced that we now have a Thai food cuisineologist.

From then on, if I wanted to find a recipe my family once used, Hanuman’s site was my go-to. I knew that it would give me a complete recipe, or near – very near – to the dishes that my family made.

The Meeting

By the time I am writing this, it is now 2025. On one, not so fine August day, with rain and cloud intervals at Pa Mieng, I thought about my mother and sister who had both passed away years prior. And I thought about Khun Ya Jeeb. I decided to write an email to Hanuman Aspler that morning.

At this point, he had set up a cooking school called Three Trees Doi Saket. Incredibly, this school turned out to be less than two miles away from our cottage! I knew he was there years ago yet had held back from reaching out for various reasons. Nostalgia, however, is a potent stimulant, and all of a sudden I was ready to meet him if he was willing to meet me. Right away, he wrote back a warm email inviting both my husband and I to visit. He had a class going and suggested we should join. We did. It turned out to be revelatory.

Finding Her Spirit

Hanuman is a sharer. His unique teaching style is innate, scientific and hands-on. Many-a Michelin Star and would-be-Michelin star chefs have spent days, weeks, learning the refined techniques needed to capture the tastes, the textures of this type of heritage cuisine. He has at his disposal hundreds of Thai memorial books which hold recipes from the upper classes of Thailand from the 1890s. And most interesting for me, he has two cookbooks of Jeeb Bunnag, one written in 1933 (a three-volume tome) and the other in 1954. (Hanuman, as you have probably guessed, reads and speaks Thai fluently.) He told me that Jeeb Bunnag’s recipes held a spell on him. He feels a very special connection to her, recognizing her as his culinary spiritual guide. I told him I had been looking for her for a long time, and it now seems in the wrong place (i.e. amongst her kinsmen, where obviously she should have been found). And so, I asked Hanuman, please cook Khun Ya Jeeb’s dishes for me. He said, “We will do it together.”

The sessions begin in the kitchen of Three Trees Doi Saket. Gas powered stoves; brass woks, granite mortars line the shelves. Another shelf holds transparent containers, stacked neatly and filled with an array of spices. The same spices that I imagined Jeeb Bunnag had at her disposal a hundred years ago.

We are about to make Smoked Duck stuffed with Mackerel and Chestnuts, a dish she recorded in the early 1930s. Hanuman sets me to roast white peppercorn. The aroma drifting up is gorgeous. I get hints of ylang-ylang. Where are you leading me to Grandmother? More spices are toasted, and then the pounding begins. Ginger, coriander roots, garlic, sea salt and turmeric are added.

Once the paste is smooth, pieces of mackerel and chestnuts are put into the mortar, and mixed together to form a doughy consistency. This is the stuffing that goes into the duck breast. The duck is then smoked over a bed of dried grated coconuts, uncooked jasmine rice and tangerine peels, flamed from lumyai wood.

Forty-five minutes later, the duck comes out beautifully crisp, tender pink inside with pockets of woodsy green paste. Hanuman slices it diagonally, and drizzles it with salted thick coconut cream and red chili sauce. Served with an array of refreshing vegetables: young ginger, cucumber, lettuce; we took a bite. The duck is juicy, the paste holds, the coconut cream and red sauce balances it all into a flavor implosion. I apologize – I have no words to describe this creative, intricate dish.

This was our first stop. The road is long and the day is short. Hanuman nudges me. Khun Ya Jeeb’s Fried Rice with Chestnuts and Indian spices are waiting. This dish is familiar. It has the scent and taste of what my family calls Khao Buree, but how is this rendition different? I have not eaten Khao Buree in twenty years! The family members who cooked it have long passed. Chicken Biryani would be the coarser cousin. And now, as late afternoon creeps across the lawn we are venturing into the arena of greens. Young greens, corn husks green, rice green, the greens of Pa Mieng hills after a monsoon shower. I am plucking holy basil leaves, chili plant leaves, and gaprow leaves – all variations of greens because we are making Jeeb Bunnag’s Green Curry with Beef Meatballs stuffed with flecks of golden corn.

The base flavor of this curry is fresh, vibrant, with hints of coconut cream sweetness. The mild spicy-hot middle layer nudges forward from the green chilies used: prik noom and prik kee noo. The top notes are herbaceous and floral: holy basil leaves and flowers. I have consumed many green curries in households and restaurants all over Thailand, some were quite good, a few excellent. This version, however, is the most sophisticated I have tasted. I judge this from the flavor of the broth. The meatballs with corn flecks are interesting collaborators. But for me, it is the broth! I took spoonful after spoonful of pure broth, savoring the interplay of spices and herbs. It stood on its own. This version needed no embellishment. Thank you, Grandmother, I have finally found you.

Thai food lovers, domestic and abroad, please note that Jeeb Bunnag’s recipes are not flavor bombs: that strong explosion of sweet, sour, salty, spicy-hot ever present in contemporary Thai food. Her dishes lean towards delicacy, what I call lamuun in Thai, with deep layers, deep flavors, complexities and subtleties that unfold in your mouth. They are both a reflection, and a continuation of the Court culture from which they originated. This is Cuisine into Art.

The Mystery Unraveled

My mother often said that aharn chao wang (Court food) is delicate and refined. Her father and his elder brother had both served in the court of King Rama VI, and dishes from that court filtered into her family compound at Thevet in old Bangkok. And she also knew Jeeb Bunnag personally, and had tasted her food.

The mystery to me is how could this gifted lady become unknown amongst her own clans? How is it possible to be so forgotten by the elites of Bangkok, with the pedigree she hailed from? She was a grand daughter-in-law of Lady Plien (Thanpuying Plien Pasakornwong), the esteemed author of the pivotal Thai cookbook, Mae Krua Hua Pa, as well as being her grand niece by blood via her Chuto family line. Lady Plien was married to Phon Bunnag, a 5th generation direct descendent of Sheikh Ahmad, the progenitor of the House of Bunnag. Having arrived from Persia during the 16th century, Sheikh Ahmad and his descendants rose to become the powerful family in Siam, closely serving several monarchs of the late Ayutthaya and early Bangkok periods. The Bunnags’ impact on the kingdom extended much beyond politics into many other areas, including the culinary arts. During the reign of King Rama V (1853-1910), there were five Bunnag consorts who were all sisters, and given the nickname Kok-Or because their names all began with the Thai letter Or: Onn, Iam, Urb, Arb and Eurn. They were highly acclaimed for their skills in the palace kitchen, endorsing the Bunnag family’s reputation as culinary experts.

After the passing of King Rama V, however, Bangkok food changed dramatically. By this time the wealth of many Bunnags had dissipated. Many members of the family sold off land to continue living the lifestyle they were accustomed to, but eventually there was no more land to sell, nor any more official appointments forthcoming. In a nutshell, a lot of Bunnags became impoverished. This was also the case of some branches of the royal family. Loss of wealth, lifestyle changes, shrinkages of staff, the decline of family compounds. Few families had the number of staff to maintain that level of cuisine anymore. Of course, there were many Bunnags who were still affluent, but their lifestyle revolved around Western opulence: fashion, ballroom dancing, acquiring classy cars, and dining on European food. The arts of Jeeb Bunnag were secondary to this niche of society. I think this may be one of the reasons that she was forgotten.

After meeting Hanuman, we were able to track down Khun Ya Jeeb’s memorial book, published after she passed away in 1964. In it, we read that her house and belongings burnt to ashes in 1929. Her husband died at the age of 45, and that she had several children to support. She was struggling financially, but because she had learnt to cook in the Palace tradition and excelled at it, she had a teaching career. She taught at several schools, including the renowned Suan Dusit College until her retirement. Even after retirement, however, she continued to give cooking lessons at various other schools, as well as private lessons to individuals (including my sister) right up until the day she felt ill, passing away just seven days later at the age of 75. But her teachings passed down to generations of students, where half a century later they would be re-discovered by Westerners hungry to learn.

Hanuman feels that she is not forgotten. He is very much keeping her recipes and spirit alive for the scores of chefs who come from around the world to take his classes. During my time with him, there was a young woman from New York, a Thai chef from Chiang Mai, a chef restaurant owner from New Zealand, a young line cook from Israel. After that, a two-starred Michelin chef from Berlin. And it will go on and on.

At this point of my journey, I do feel a certain satisfaction that Khun Ya Jeeb’s legacy has been preserved, and that she would have had a good chuckle to know that it has spread not only to women but men, and not only among students within Thailand but from all over the world. After many sessions of cooking with Hanuman, it is apparent to me that his understanding and interpretations of her recipes are far more nuanced, and to be honest, two levels above the food that my family cooked. If you want to taste what Jeeb Bunnag’s food is like, take a trip to Chiang Mai. Head to the hills of Pa Mieng – but not to my house. Go to Hanuman.

Trace heritage flavors in Chiang Mai’s northern hills. Fly to Chiang Mai with Thai Airways!