tupac17616

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Sounds like a trip to Piemonte to me. Great wine, great food. You can stay out of the cities as you'd like and eat very, very well. Other eGullet members will be better equipped to suggest specific towns/areas in Piemonte, but really you cannot go wrong. Granted, it's not exactly close to your conference in Tuscany. But that is what I would do.

Dude, go to Momofuku. Seriously. You won't regret it. I agree with those who've argued that Di Fara is too far to be worth it during your short stay. Il Laboratio in NY is definitely not the same as in Rome. And in my opinion, there isn't a single place in NY that compares with the best gelaterie in Italy. I don't much care for Mandoo Bar, though others may disagree. I like Yakitori Totto, though personally I would just listen to raji's suggestions. The man knows his Japanese food. The LES food crawl is a nice way to spend a few hours, for sure. I really enjoy Fatty Crab as well, which someone mentioned above. Re: Staten Island, please don't do that to yourself. There are plenty of other places to satisfy your pizza needs. Have a great trip!

exactly

haha, just saw this. i remember her!

cue the commentary from our waiter at TFL: "You are an inspiration to us all..."

Dinner report from Celadon now. Pictures, as usual, are HERE. After my disappointing meal at Thanying the night before, I still stubbornly wanted to prove that high-end dining in Bangkok could compete with all the wonderful casual places and the great street food I’d been having. There seemed to be no better candidate for this task than Celadon, in the luxurious Sukhothai Hotel. But given my experience that hotel restaurants are rarely anything special (one great meal at Alain Ducasse in New York notwithstanding), I was somewhat skeptical. Still, I was anxious to experience what Travel + Leisure called in 2006 the best restaurant in Bangkok. It certainly provided a beautiful setting, the restaurant flanked by a lotus pond, and large windows letting in plenty of natural light. Sitting down and examining the menu, it took all of two seconds to choose the Dok Kluaymai set, the longest tasting. (If Google is to be trusted, this is Thai for “new banana flower”) Much to my surprise, the waiter then sneakily asked: “Still or sparkling?” Uh, come again? Was I really getting The Water Question in Bangkok? Caught off guard, and unable to remember whether or not Bangkok’s tap water is potable, I broke down and ordered the stupid $9 bottle of water. Bastards! But time food heals all wounds, and it wasn’t long before mine started to arrive. The first snack was thod mann talay, a trio of small deep-fried seafood cakes served with pickled vegetables. These were marvelously crispy and devoid of any greasy feel whatsoever. Already quite flavorful on their own, the seafood cakes were even better when eaten with the crisp pickled vegetables, which were soaking in a mixture of vinegar and chilies. A hot start in every sense of the word. Next up was a plate of poo nim yam som-o, pomelo salad with grilled soft shell crabs. While this salad is traditionally made with shrimp and chicken, the soft shell crab was a nice stand-in. Regardless of their method of preparation, I always find these creatures to have such great textural contrast, the tender and naturally sweet crab meat hiding underneath a crispy/chewy/crunchy exterior, and this was no exception. The slight bitterness of the pomelo was balanced by the heat of dried chilies, the sourness of lime juice, and just a bit of sugar. Fish sauce added depth, while the tiny bits of peanut and the fried shallots sprinkled on top gave every bite a very nice crunch. Then came some soup, in this case tom khaa hoyshell yang, an herbed soup of grilled scallops in coconut milk. The lemongrass and galangal hit my nose before this was even on my table — it was that aromatic. An ingredient that is often overcooked, these scallops fell victim to no such crime. With nicely charred grill-marks on each side, they were still tender within. The broth was spicy, sweet and slightly sour all at once, providing further validation for my developing theory that Thai cooks are essentially infallible when it comes to soups. (I will let you know if anyone successfully disproves this.) While the menu appeared to list eight separate courses, several main courses came at once. Thai food is meant to be served family style, apparently, so I decided that I would have to pick up the slack and eat more for the family members who were not able to join me. Gluttony, you say? I prefer to think of it more as filial piety. But in any case, the first of the aforementioned main courses was phad phak ruam, stir-fried assorted vegetables with oyster sauce. The vegetables — carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, mushrooms, and baby corn — were cooked well, right on the cusp between crisp and tender. The oyster sauce spiked with small bits of sautéed garlic was fairly flavorful. Overall, though, this was a dreadfully boring dish. Next up was plakapong phad medmamuang himmaparn, fried seabass with cashews. This was the first time I had seen bell peppers in Bangkok, and also thankfully the last. I’m not particularly fond of that vegetable to say the least, and this dish was no exception. Even the onion, mushroom, and dried hot chilies unfortunately provided little distraction. The generous chunks of fish were moist and flavorful, and nice in combination with the cashews. But to me, the vegetables were largely unnecessary. The only real standout of the main courses was gaeng kiew warn goong lai, a green curry of tiger prawns. With coconut milk, hot chilies, marble-sized Thai “plate brush” eggplants, bamboo shoots, and lime leaves, the broth was hot, sour, sweet, and delicious. The prawn, though, was even better. With only the tail protruding above the surface of the soup, I didn’t expect the huge crustacean that lay below. A beautiful prawn about 6″ long had been butterflied, peeled, and lightly grilled. Juicy and flavorful on its own, it also soaked up the flavors in the curry, and the result was fabulous. The last of the four main courses was ped phad normai prikthai dam, wok-fried duck with black pepper sauce. I laughed to myself when this course was set before me, not because I was happy to see another stir-fry — I wasn’t –but because I’d been confusing the words for “duck” and “spicy” in Thai all week. Same spelling, different pronunciation. I never did quite get it right. Anyway, this ped was pretty good, easily the best of the three stir-fries. The duck was not overcooked as I had feared based on the cooking method, but rather a bit pink and quite tender. The pencil asparagus was crisp, and provided a night bright contrast in both texture and flavor for the duck. And the large chunks of mushroom added an earthy background flavor. Not a knockout dish by any means, but pretty good as far as stir-fries go. Dessert was a simple combination of two treats I’d enjoyed several times from street vendors — kluay thod ai-tim kati ruammitr, or a small fried banana served with Thai style coconut ice cream. The banana had been soaked in a sweet pink syrup before being battered and fried, lending it an artificial color but amazing flavor once I bit into it. Still very warm upon arrival, it contrasted nicely with the cold and creamy coconut ice cream. Speaking of ice cream, if you think Ben & Jerry’s invented mix-ins, think again. Traditional Thai style ice cream has all sorts of goodies — basil seeds, millet, red beans, and laht chong (bright green noodles flavored and colored by pandanus leaf) often among them. This version simply had corn, chunks of young coconut, and the aforementioned laht chong. Rather than distract from the creaminess of the ice cream, I found these additions to be quite enjoyable. They kept the dessert from being too monotonous. This provided a happy ending to the meal, even without, say, an entire box of chocolates like you might get elsewhere. As I sat and sipped my jasmine tea at meal’s end, I considered whether or not it had been worth it. Considering the price of over 1500 baht with tax and service added, this was certainly not a cheap meal by Bangkok standards. And can you imagine spending over $50 on Thai food in the US? Outside of New York, good luck. I say all this not to complain about the price, but simply to assert that it ought to be reflected in the food. For that kind of money one expects a clear level of refinement, and I certainly found it in a few of Celadon’s very well-executed Thai classics — fried fish cakes, pomelo salad, tom kha soup, and a great green curry. But for me, having three of the four main courses stir-fried was not only repetitive, but a cop-out. This was a disappointing lull in what was otherwise a very solid meal. Perhaps the intense flavors of the Thai kitchen don’t lend themselves well to the slow, choreographed progression of dishes that often characterize tasting menus. Or perhaps chef Khun Veera and his crew are simply content with singing the same notes over and over. Whatever the case may be, this was a very good meal, but one that I think could have easily been great with just a few small tweaks.

I don't remember where I came across a recommendation for Thanying in the first place, but I want to say it was here on eGullet. Their website claims they've been mentioned in the NYT, though, so that could be where you read about it. How wonderful it must have been to grow up with Royal-style cooking! I'd bet you can put together a wonderful Thai meal just like your father. I'm a firm believer that that kind of stuff almost always gets passed on in one way or another. Maybe a la carte is the way to go at Thanying, but based on my one meal there, I found the place to be kind of a joke. I'll definitely look for another Royal-style place the next time I'm in Thailand, though. I feel like my one meal was not at all representative of the potential of that particular cuisine.

Dinner another evening was at Thanying. As usual, pictures can be found HERE. 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.

For gelato recommendations, you might page through the Gelaterie d'Italia book by Gambero Rosso. There are several Torino recommendations in it. A cup of Sicilian granita at Mondello would be something to consider, too.

For dinner, I'd recommend Ubuntu in Napa. The price is right and the vegetables are wonderful.

(Again, for those who are interested, pictures can be found HERE...) Heralded by so many guidebooks and food journalists (most notably the late, great R.W. Apple Jr.) over the past several years, I didn’t expect Chote Chitr to have the unassuming charm that it does. But walking past the sandwich board outside displaying the menu in beautiful Thai script and entering this tiny, five-table hole-in-the-wall, I instantly felt, even if I didn’t yet know, that I was in the right place. As soon as I sat down, the fourth-generation owner and chef, Krachoichuli Kimangsawat, came over not with a menu but with a question: “What do you feel like eating today?” The simplicity of her question and the humility in her voice told me that if I just put myself in her hands, I would be well taken care of. So I did. And I was. The first dish to arrive was ho mok pla, red curry fish cakes steamed in banana leaf cups. Actually, to call them cakes is doing them a disservice, for they were as tender and airy as soufflés. Flavored with red curry paste and fish sauce (and, presumably, egg as a binder), and topped with thickened coconut milk, the fish was at first almost subtle. But a bite taken with the accompanying dip of vinegar and sliced chilies made all of the flavors stand up and be noticed. Sweet, spicy, creamy, and acidic all at once, this was absolutely delicious. Then came a plate of mee krob, or fried rice noodles. Ubiquitous in Thai restaurants worldwide, the noodles are topped by a sweet-and-sour sauce that often tends too much toward the former and not enough toward the latter. Chote Chitr’s version, however, was very nicely balanced between its sweet, sour, and spicy flavors. The sourness came from both tamarind and the peel of a rare citrus fruit called som saa. A very pleasant heat came from more of those lovely Thai chilies and a bit of ginger. A few shrimp and chicken pieces scattered about were like small hidden treasures I would dig up every few bites, bringing another savory element into the mix. And the raw bean sprouts, long beans, and greens (Chinese kale?) served alongside brought added freshness. My last dish on that rainy afternoon was yam hua plee, a shredded banana blossom salad with shrimp, chicken, coconut cream, toasted dried chilies, black sesame, fried shallots, and tamarind. Another example of delicious complexity, with mettled rather than muttled flavors. This is only my second write-up for Bangkok and I feel like I’m already sounding like a broken record, but this mix of spicy, sweet, hot, and sour was truly addictive. I happily cleared my plate. Well, all three plates for that matter. As I walked out that first afternoon full and happy (aren’t those synonymous?), it was clear that one visit to this restaurant was not going to be enough. So I went back the very next day. Remembering me as soon as she approached my table, the chef promised three new dishes. She returned to the kitchen to work her magic, and soon my table was full of delicious food once again. This time I started with yam makhuea yao, a salad with tender chunks of grilled eggplant, shallots, chilies, lime juice, chicken, both dried and fresh shrimp, and plenty of cilantro. Having been skinned after grilling, the eggplant was so tender as to be almost mushy, without much of the caramelized flavor it might have had if they’d simply peeled and roasted it. Nevertheless, the blandness of the eggplant was made up for with its tart dressing and vibrantly flavorful accompaniments. Having a bit of each ingredient in every bite made for one interesting mouthful after another. A bowl of tom yum pla, a hot and sour fish soup, nearly brought me to tears. It was, frankly, one of the most amazing soups that I’ve ever tasted. The aroma when it was placed before me was absolutely mesmerizing. Beautifully redolent of lemongrass, basil, lime, and cilantro, I could have smelled it for hours, but by now my mouth was watering in anticipation. As the first sip danced across my taste buds, the aromas that had drawn me in were now bolstered with piquant chilies, shallots, galangal, tamarind, and fish sauce. Next I fished out one of the huge chunks of sea bass, which was flaky and tender. As I tried to process all the flavors, I put my spoon down for about half a second. Picking it back up, I knew that would be the last time it would get any rest before I had finished every last drop of this truly stunning soup. For my last dish, the chef asked if I might like salmon with mango. With visions of the overcooked farmed salmon with that culinary abomination known as mango salsa that might be signaled by this combination in the US, I agreed, but hesitantly. I need not have worried. What emerged a few minutes later was a huge, bone-in deep-fried salmon steak with sour green mango, chilies, shallots, and vinegar. The salmon still had the skin on, and was given a very light dredging in a tempura-like batter before frying, giving the finished product a wonderful dual-layered crunch. It was cooked to the rarer side of medium, yielding a fork-tender and incredibly moist chunk of fish. The salad and its dressing were bright and spicy. This was huge serving, to be sure, but the vibrantly complimentary flavors meant that eating it never became boring or repetitive. This is a special place, and one that I would have been happy to return to every single day of my trip. But the culinary wonderland that is Bangkok was beckoning, and there were other places to explore. Like the fragrant and fluffy jasmine rice that accompanied each of the two meals I had here, a visit to this restaurant would be the perfect side dish for any food-focused trip to Bangkok. If any place near me offered such a staggeringly good quality to price ratio, I’m not sure I would ever cook at home. But for now, I’ll simply have to dream about my next trip to Bangkok. And that next heavenly bowl of tom yum pla.

I'm writing some things about Tokyo as we speak, actually! It will take some time to do both places proper justice.

The girl I spoke of was definitely not the man's girlfriend or wife. I imagine the going rate for such services is a lot higher than what this guy paid...

first: shaved carrot ribbons with chopped peanuts, fresh mint, and a dressing made with thai chilies, garlic, scallions, lime juice, sherry vinegar, sesame oil, turbinado sugar and a reduced broth made from lemongrass, ginger, and galangal later: soft-scrambled eggs. one of life's simple pleasures.

Dinner the first night was at My Choice restaurant. My thoughts on the dinner are below, and photos can been seen HERE... They say that you can’t trust a skinny chef. But you can trust a fat food critic — provided they are as uncompromisingly witty and endlessly knowledgeable as Jeffrey Steingarten. That was my hope, anyway, after reading both his books (each wonderful, by the way). His essay on Thailand in It Must Have Been Something I Ate quickly mentions a small restaurant in Bangkok called My Choice, and my timing in reading this could not have been better. My own little food foray into Asia was just a few days away, and that city was to be my last stop. So as I stepped off the plane that first evening in Bangkok, I had not yet booked a hotel and I didn’t know a single word of Thai, but at least I had a dinner plan. Walking in the door, I encountered an ambiance that is the very definition of “hip.” If the shiny plastic table covers, lush fake greenery, and mismatched chairs weren’t enough, there were six — count ‘em… six! — other beautiful people there to see and be seen. Take, for example, the decrepit old white guy (think George Carlin) with the cute Thai “girlfriend” half his height and one-fourth his age… they were so happy to be there that they said not a word to each other the entire meal! The food must be that amazing, I thought to myself. Well, somewhat surprisingly, it was. This dinner turned out to be a great introduction for what was to be a glorious week of eating in Bangkok. It was also my first indication that the best food in Bangkok is to be had either on the street or in restaurants such as this one, with decor befitting a prison, a mechanic’s shop, a dilapidated 1960s-style hotel lobby, or perhaps some beautiful combination of all three. Without a translator or a knowledge of Thai sign language, I was sadly unable to say “Please fill my table with the most delicious food your restaurant offers.” So I resorted to the next best thing — the “Recommended” section of the menu. Seeing such tried-and-true family favorites as fried fish intestines and stir-fried fermented egg, I knew making just a few choices would not be easy. But noticing the hot and spicy ratings ranging from 0 to 3 stars, I simply choose three dishes with a range of different spice levels. The first to arrive was yam thua phu, a spicy winged bean salad (#2 on the menu, and a spice rating of 1* for those playing along at home). This delicious salad included winged beans, fried shallots, peanuts, chicken, shrimp, coconut milk, nam pla (fish sauce), sugar, lime juice, dried chilies and who knows what else. Crunchy, tender, crispy, hot, cool, salty, sour, spicy and sweet all at once, this dish did what great Thai food often does — it left me running out of adjectives to describe the harmonious complexity at work. These were my first few bites in Bangkok, and I was already smiling. Next came the silent killer, gaeng tai pla. Poetically translated on the menu as “fish viscera sauce chili soup” (#17; 3*), I now know it by another name: the absolute spiciest thing I have ever eaten. There were a lot of flavors at work in this soup: shrimp, cauliflower, winged bean, kaffir lime leaves, kaffir lime quarters with the rind removed, baby corn, fresh hot peppers, long beans, lemongrass, ginger, garlic, shallot, tamarind, dried chilies, shrimp paste, and of course fish (mackerel, from what I’ve read) viscera. The chili paste that served as the soup base gave it a dark chocolate color and a fiery kick that only intensified as I continued to eat it. The sticky rice and sliced cucumber served alongside the soup did little to douse the flames. Nevertheless, the soup was delicious, so I decided to grin and cry and sweat and turn red bear it. I would highly recommend ordering this soup, but consider yourself warned: a native Thai person may ask you later on, as they did me, “Wait… you ate that? So spicy!”. They mean it. My final choice was, thankfully, a bit more tame: stir fried coconut tip with shrimp (#30; 0*). While there were no phantom chilies hiding in the mix here, the flavors were still quite balanced. No small feat for a dish that I’m pretty certain would be overly sweet if I’d ordered it in a Thai restaurant in the United States. While I’m not sure what exactly was in the sauce (by this point, my taste buds had been assaulted by the soup), it was a far cry from the kind of sticky-sweet, cornstarch-thickened sauces I’d been encountering during the prior week in Shanghai. A few scattered chunks of green onion also helped keep the natural sweetness of the coconut in check. I hadn’t planned on getting dessert, but if you had eaten that soup, you would have, too. Trust me. Quietly exposing the fact that the only Thai words I had learned thus far (from the handy cheat sheet I tore from a Thai Airways magazine) were, not surprisingly, food-related, I ordered ai-tim gathi. Just like the wonderful street snack I encountered again and again on this trip, this coconut ice cream came complete with mix-ins you wouldn’t exactly find at your neighborhood Baskin-Robbins. But eschewing the basil seeds, millet, red beans, and laht chong (bright green noodles flavored and colored by pandanus leaf) one might find at a street stall, this version simply had corn and small chunks of young coconut mixed throughout. Quite tasty, and just enough of the mix-ins to keep this dessert’s texture interesting without distracting from its creaminess. On a small soi much further down Sukhumvit Road than most tourists would likely be willing to venture, this place is a bit off the beaten path. But getting there couldn’t be easier — it’s literally a 1-minute walk from the Thong Lo BTS station — and there is certainly reward in seeking it out. There is a large menu of traditional Thai favorites to explore, and it’s location and decor ensure that the only people you’ll encounter are those who, like you, care first and foremost about the food. The price is right, too, coming in at about 355 baht (roughly $11) for a meal that (let’s face it) could have easily fed two. Definitely recommended.

Since I gleaned the vast majority of my research from this site, I figured it is only fair that I post some thoughts about where I actually ended up, so here goes...

Just in case anyone happens to stumble upon this thread in a search later on, I figured I should actually provide some of the pictures I promised in the beginning! Several reviews (and plenty of pictures) from my trip to Italy can now be found on my site. And more should be forthcoming the near future.

Haha. I love this, and could not agree more!

oh man

what he said. even if it means back to back meals, depending on the amount of time you have available. ← Interesting - would you do a few dishes at one and move on the other for dinner? And in what order? What dishes would you folks recommend at each? I am thinking uni, hamachi, Chawan mischi and scallops at Ssam but any and all recommendations would be great. Fat Guy is right. The menus are far from static. Neither is, in my opinion, a mine field. They are both places that I feel totally comfortable going to with nothing specific in mind and ordering just whatever sounds appealing at the time. To answer your first question, though, I suppose if it were me, I'd go to noodle first, have a full meal, kill a little time, maybe see a movie or something, and go to ssam, have a full meal. but in general i sort of.. don't get full. so this might not be the best plan for everyone.

You like it that much, eh? I imagine that the things we ordered were pretty foolproof: - a mixed grill of freshwater prawns, scallops, mussels and clams - a plate of fresh crab meat sauteed together with egg and spring onion. (This was particularly good.) - a plate of tempura-like deep fried morning glory. Or was it water mimosa? Stupidly, I don't know, as it was new to me, but I think it was one of these two. Some pieces were longer leaves; and some pieces were about the size and texture of, say, green beans. - some kind of fish (bass?) stir fry with spring onions and small black things (beans?) My description of ingredients I don't know makes me sound like an absolute moron! Haha. Thank you for the recommendation! I will definitely check it out next time.

what he said. even if it means back to back meals, depending on the amount of time you have available.

It's a seafood restaurant I first about HERE in the New York Times. A quick report over on chowhound is HERE, and the address/phone/etc are HERE. On my last night in Bangkok, I went with a local woman I'd befriended. We showed up at 8:30 on a Saturday night to a completely empty restaurant. We took it as a bad sign and split. She called a friend of hers who lives in the neighborhood to get a recommendation nearby, and the place we ended up going to was great. In fact, I'd love to get the information so I can go back next time I'm in Bangkok (there will DEFINITELY be a next time). She wrote HUA PLA CHONG NON SI on my paper. From what I gather, the first two words mean "fish head" and the others refer to the neighborhood. A few Google searches have turned up nothing on the place, and I certainly don't have a clue what road we were on. It was only a very short cab ride away from Pen, and a short ride after the meal back to the BTS station (Saphan Taksin, was it?). Anybody know of this place, by chance?

Peter, I just now stumbled upon this thread. It's great! Thanks for sharing.