Find Out How Chef Ton Put As I Am On The Fine Dining Scene

Asian cuisine doesn’t often get the fine dining spotlight, but Chef Ton put As I Am on it and took it sky-high.

There’s a moment in every chef’s story where instinct takes over, where something shifts from obligation to obsession. For Chef Thitid Tassanakajohn—better known as Chef Ton—it wasn’t in a professional kitchen, nor under the watchful eye of a mentor. It was at home, as a child, standing over a humble pot of five-spice braised eggs.

“I started adding everything,” he laughs. “Chilli, fish sauce. Just mixing.” It wasn’t refinement. It wasn’t technique. It was curiosity. And in that small, chaotic act of tinkering, something clicked. “That’s when I realised cooking could be fun.”

The accidental chef

Like many great chefs, Ton didn’t begin with a grand culinary plan. In fact, he studied economics, briefly worked in a bank and quit just as quickly. “I didn’t like it,” he says, plainly.

Instead, he packed his bags for the United States and enrolled at the Culinary Institute of America, trading spreadsheets for stovetops. What followed was a whirlwind of kitchens across New York and beyond—long hours, hard lessons, and the kind of discipline that only the industry can teach.

Back then, food meant something different. “You cook to show off,” he admits. “Techniques and creativity. You want to prove yourself.” It’s a phase many chefs go through. The need to impress. To outdo. To be seen. But time, and a few hard-earned lessons, has a way of softening that edge.

Cooking for someone else

Today, Ton cooks with a different intention. “The most important thing is that the customer enjoys it.”

It sounds simple. Almost obvious. But in the world of modern gastronomy where innovation often takes centre stage, it’s a philosophy that feels subtly disruptive. There’s a balance he now chases: between expression and experience, between what a dish says and how it makes someone feel. “When we’re young, we cook for ourselves,” he reflects. “Now, I cook for people.”

A star, and the weight of it

When his restaurant earned a star from the Michelin Guide, it was everything he had dreamed of and more. “I was super happy. It’s every chef’s dream.” But with recognition comes expectation. And expectation, as it turns out, is far heavier than ambition.

“Before winning, people come with no expectations. Now, they come expecting something.” That shift changed everything. The room feels different. The stakes feel higher. Every plate carries not just flavour, but promise.

“It’s stressful,” he admits. “You have to learn how to handle it.” The realisation, eventually, is grounding: not every dish will please everyone. Not every experience will be perfect. What matters is doing your best and standing behind what you create.

Redefining Thai flavours

Long before the accolades, Ton had already taken on a quieter, more stubborn mission: to change how people perceive Thai food.

“When I started, people thought local food should be cheap,” he says. “Fine dining meant French, Italian, Japanese.” Thai cuisine—like much of Southeast Asia’s culinary heritage—was rarely given the same reverence. He refused to accept that, as his restaurants became more than places to eat. They became platforms—spaces where Thai ingredients, farmers, and traditions could be elevated without losing their soul.

Over time, something shifted. Producers he worked with from the beginning grew alongside him. Ingredients once overlooked—such as shrimp paste, tamarind paste, and krachai—found their place on tasting menus. A community formed not just of diners, but of growers, suppliers, and collaborators. “That’s the most fulfilling part,” he says. “We built it together.”

The risk that changed everything

Opening his first restaurant wasn’t just a career move but a gamble. “I had one chance,” he says. “If it failed, that was it.” It was family money. A final shot. No safety net. “I gave everything I had.”

It paid off. But not without scars. Expansion came too quickly at one point—too many restaurants, too little structure. Some had to close and it was a hard reset. “I didn’t open anything new for six years,” he says. “I waited until I was ready.”

As I Am, as it should be

Now, with Sood and As I Am in Penang and Kuala Lumpur, Ton is entering a new chapter—one that feels both more relaxed and more refined. The concept? “Fun dining,” as he calls it. Less rigid than traditional fine dining, but no less thoughtful.

In Kuala Lumpur, he leans fully into a tasting menu format; something he believes the city is ready for. “The market here is strong,” he says. “People understand food and they’re more open.”

But there are non-negotiables. Authenticity, for one. The flavours must remain true—no matter the city, no matter the audience. “If a Thai person eats my food and says, ‘This is not Thai,’ that’s going to be a problem.” Adaptation happens in form—portion, presentation, structure—but never in spirit.

Beyond the plate

If you’ve seen Ton on Restaurant War Thailand, you might think you know him—the intensity, the urgency, the raised voice in the heat of the moment. But off-screen, he’s softer. Quieter.

“I’m not that loud,” he says with a smile. What the show does capture, though, is something he deeply believes in: growth. Not just for himself, but for others. “I want people to learn, to be better, and to be proud of what they do.”

It’s the same philosophy that drives his kitchens and his growing group of protégés, many of whom now lead his restaurants around the world.

What comes next

Expansion is inevitable. Thailand, The Philippines, even the United States, with plans for San Francisco on the horizon. But this time, it’s different. “I only grow when the team is ready,” he says. It’s a lesson learned the hard way and one he won’t forget.

Because for all the ambition, all the accolades, and all the movement, Ton’s approach today is surprisingly grounded. Cook honestly. Build slowly. Stay true. Or, as the name suggests—be exactly as you are.

As I Am by Chef Ton