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I entered Thai Thanee restaurant and was immediately greeted by a courteous owner in her colorful sarong. It was 9 p.m. and there were still a couple of tables occupied with people finishing their desserts. Everyone else, presumably, must have gone home by then. Although I have lived in this area for six years, I forget that most people go out for dinner at six, so that by nine the chef is ready to pack up and go. It is a shame that my stomach stubbornly refuses to adjust to this schedule. I have no doubt that kids coming to my house for a sleepover have reported back home of the weird times they were served meals.
On my recent trip to Buenos Aires, which my stomach greatly approved of, I would leisurely stroll into a restaurant at around ten at night making sure not to be among the first arrivals. Restaurants rarely open before eight, as at four they are still clearing up the lunch tables. Food takes time, and it is expected that the meal would last for hours. Chef may take it as a personal insult if the delicacies he took time and trouble to make, are gulped down in minutes. Most restaurants do not close before two in the morning.
The Thai chef was kind enough to accommodate my ‘late’ arrival. He cooked up a storm, and both chicken satay with the creamy peanut sauce and crispy duck on top of the spicy, but not too hot, red curry were delicious. Desserts in places like this tend to boil down to fried bananas or mango/coconut ice cream. I enquired if the ice cream was home made. I have developed the habit of asking about the origin of desserts, even before I got a hot tip from The Waiter. There are two types of places I never ask. One is the brick oven pizza type of a restaurant I frequent with my boys, as the answer is staring me in the face. The other is a Michelin many stars, Zagat top rated, Bonn Appetite write up, big name chef restaurant. There I simply expect the desserts, which cost a small fortune, to be home made. If they are not up to standard, I never go back.
The ice cream in question was not home made. The chef, an overweight Thai man, and his kitchen help, a tiny elderly Thai lady, were free to leave. I made sure to personally thank them for staying late and complimented them on the food they prepared.
Seeing me drinking gallons of green tea with my food, the ’sarong’ lady revealed to me that she was in her fifties. I looked closely at her face and I can honestly say that if women in their fifties had this woman’s complexion with not a wrinkle in sight, plastic surgeons would be out of business. Leaning closer, she told me that her secret was keeping constantly hydrated by drinking lots of green tea and water. I am certain this practice helps, but strongly suspect that her lucky gene pool and the diet of steamed rice and fish have something to do with it as well.
Farewell till tomorrow, as I need to boil a kettle, and make myself a steaming hot cup of green tea.
