A Life Worth Eating

I recently read that it is considered polite in Thai culture to leave some food on your plate, indicating both the host’s generosity and the guest’s lack of greediness. Sadly I received no such memo before indulging in eight days of unbridled gluttony in Bangkok. Having been a lifetime member of the Clean Plate Club, it appears I’ve now outed myself as officially the rudest person to ever visit Thailand. I suppose, then, I can tell you all about a meal I had the other night at a place called Thanying.

The restaurant proudly offers “Genuine” Royal Thai Cuisine, purportedly a more sophisticated version of central Thai cooking, with as much focus put on elaborate and artful presentation as on the taste of the food. But with the maddening inconsistency I experienced with Thanying’s food, one begins to fear for the government’s stability. Were I fed such things with any regularity, I’m afraid my resignation from office would not be far off. But lest you think I am exaggerating, let me get into more detail about my meal.

Not surprisingly, I opted for the longest set menu, in this case Set Menu C, priced at 990 baht (though it miraculously shrank to 900 by the time my check was delivered at meal’s end). What sounded on paper like a leisurely, multi-course affair was in fact more like a military assault, with the infantry arriving on multiple plates. The first of these fronts was a set of four hors d’œuvres: gai haw bai toey, fried chicken wrapped in pandanus leaves; tod man goong, deep fried shrimp patty; khao pode tod, sweet corn fritter; and gra tong thong, minced shrimp with corn and green peas in pastry shell. My first bite of the sweet corn fritter suggested that these four treats must have been meant for me. Perhaps as a punishment for some horrible transgression in a former life. Both under-salted and under-seasoned, it was utterly devoid of flavor, but at least pleasantly crispy. The same could not be said for the fried chicken wrapped in pandanus leaves — it was, frankly, horrible. So dry as to be a choking hazard, I wondered just how long the poor bird had been incinerated as it went gentle into that good night. Things improved, at least, as I moved on to the deep fried shrimp patty. The wonderfully crisp and remarkably grease-free shrimp fritter was fashioned into a round shape that brought donuts to mind. Tender and almost fluffy on the inside, my only complaint was, again, under-salting. And if they thought I was going to dip that thing into the gloppy sweet-and-sour sauce that was served alongside it, they were sadly mistaken. But luckily, it appeared that my karmic debts had been paid by the time I worked my way to the last bite, a small pastry shell containing a mixture of corn and minced shrimp (unless my faculties of of both sight and taste were failing me, there were no green peas to be found). This was quite tasty, the natural sweetness of both ingredients coming through and the pastry shell, with the thinness of a tuile, providing a great crunch and a salty top-note.

Next I moved on to what was thankfully the only thing served to me in a martini glass during my time in Bangkok: yam som-o, or pomelo salad. Mixed with fried garlic, fried shallots, chicken, pork, shrimp, and a bit of grated coconut, there was a nice interplay of contrasting textures and temperatures. The harmony of the bitter, sweet, and salty flavor elements also made this an enjoyable salad, notwithstanding the tacky lettuce leaf garnish.

I had asked, nay begged, my waiter to make my tom kha gai spicy. If there were any restaurant at which I had to fear dumbed down flavors, I figured this was it. (The signs were all there: Too much English being spoken. Too many foreigners. And was that… classical music playing?) My request was, apparently, not made in vain, as the coconut milk soup with chicken, galangal, and lime emerged with a beautiful hue of orange, a clear sign that plenty of chilies were afoot, er, uh, afloat. The soup beautifully danced the line between hot and sour, one minute sending my taste buds in one direction, and the next moment in the exact opposite. This was a pretty large bowl, and one I quite enjoyed cleaning.

Next came the main courses — four of them, to be exact. First to be eaten was the goong narng tod gra tiem prig thai, deep-fried prawn with garlic and pepper. Bangkok’s residents are a blessed bunch, to have these huge freshwater prawns swimming in their rivers. Though it was senselessly beheaded before its dip in a peppery tempura-like batter and a quick bath in hot oil, the prawn was impossibly juicy. Topped with small slivers of fried garlic, it was also utterly delicious. Could they perhaps bring me a huge platter of these?, I wondered to myself.

Keeping with the assumption that the fried goods were the most time-sensitive, I then moved on to the pla gaow sarm ros, deep-fried garupa topped with spiced chili sauce. The fish was wonderfully crisp on the outside and moist on the outside, while the vinegary chili sauce (which seemed to me much like sambal oelek) added a fiery punch. Even with the generously ladled sauce on top, I gobbled this up quickly enough that it never got soggy.

The next dish was naw-mai farang pad nahm man hoi, stir-fried asparagus with Chinese mushroom in Thai oyster sauce. Comparatively less salty than Chinese oyster sauce, with a more pronounced oyster flavor and no MSG, I found Thai oyster sauce to be a pretty tasty condiment. Even so, these stir-fried vegetables were, well, boring. The asparagus was crisp; the mushrooms, both chewy and slightly soggy. But with so many other interesting vegetable preparations found in Thai cuisine, I found this Chinese-style stir fry to be a waste of time, and stomach space (as if that were actually an issue). I could have easily done without it.

The same certainly can’t be said for the gaeng kiew hwaan nuer yang, green curry with beef tenderloin. This was easily the best dish of the evening, and frankly, the one that almost made the restaurant seem like it was a worthwhile stop in retrospect. A classic green curry of chilies, lemongrass, garlic, galangal, shrimp paste, kaffir lime peel, coriander, cumin and turmeric, it was bursting with flavor and complexity. The generous slices of tender beef were nice and juicy, and the abundant fresh basil scattered on top gave it a wonderful aroma to the very end. There was no nobler call for the ridiculous (I’m talking 8″ tall) cone of khao, or steamed white rice, that was set before me than to accompany this wonderful curry.

Providing the end to this roller coaster ride of a meal was one of the classic Thai sweets: sangkaya fuk thong, coconut custard steamed in a small pumpkin. The previous day, I had bought (for only 50 baht!) a fantastic version of this: silky custard filling the entirety of a whole small pumpkin, topped with a mound of delicious golden threads, or egg yolks cooked in a sweet syrup. This, unfortunately, bore little resemblance to that wonderful treat. Thanying’s version was overly firm and incredibly bland. With a flavor and texture more like bad tofu, it was quite disappointing. And the coconut ice cream, complete with its overly-large ice crystals, did nothing to save it.

Like any meal, my dinner at Thanying had its ups and downs. But considering the expensive-for-Bangkok prices, the fancier surroundings, and my anticipation of a delicious first try of royal Thai cuisine, I was ultimately disappointed. Nearly all of the appetizers, a main course, and the dessert were all forgettable. And while the hits that separated these misses were nice, such wild inconsistency is frustrating. With the most elaborate set menu, or, as the website puts it, “a long and thoughtful compilation of traditional favorites at moderate prices”, there should be no such variation. Advertised as a veritable Greatest Hits collection of central Thai cooking, this meal could have (and should have) been much better. Considering that fact, and considering all of the wonderful eating opportunities that Bangkok has to offer, overall I can’t say that I would recommend this place.