Thai

Thai La Ong – A Valentines Day Saga

February 27, 2021 by Andrew Christie

We’re going out for dinner and I’m nervous. Not covid nervous, Valentine’s Day nervous. I’m expecting crowds, booked out restaurants, purveyors of crappy roses, magicians, even. Due to a series of entwined exigencies now lost in the depths of time, Strop and I managed to exchange our wedding vows on St Valentine’s Day. It is an error we are still paying for. You simply cannot go out for a quiet wedding anniversary celebration on Valentine’s Day, so we usually shift the date to avoid the crowds and complications.

But not this year. This year is our fortieth. Just let that ruby-coloured number sink in a moment. Forty years married. To which should be added The Years Before—a period of indeterminate length—during which we hung out with sufficient intensity as to produce a baby girl. Makes you feel old just thinking about it.

So, our fortieth—our Ruby Anniversary—and we’re in Sydney. King Street beckons. Strop has romantic notions of taking Painting the Bridge back to where it all started, but I don’t think Izote Mexican still exists.

Romance seeps away. Pragmatism builds a bridge. Thai La Ong is still there, and one thing you definitely cannot get in Bermagui is decent Thai food.

This will be a family affair. We are to be joined by a daughter, a granddaughter and a nephew. The Stropolina, the Lagilou and the Chippy.

First off, Strop and I embark on a nostalgic walk from Newtown Station along a sultry Enmore Road to see what has become of the place since we stopped paying attention. It seems a bit tidier. A bit quieter, maybe. Hard to tell really, as it is still the middle of the afternoon. Some new joints. Some survivors.

We end up at the Warren View where things have changed. Covid measures are serious here. There are separate in-and-out doors. The young woman behind the bar wants to verify our log in. Us old folks from the coast aren’t used to quite so much covid-tainted reality. The beers have changed too. Lots of funky, and probably very hoppy, hipster beers from pop-up breweries are available. Watermelon flavoured! Probably rhubarb too. Or turmeric. The very helpful bar person directs us to beverages that suit our individual needs and we proceed through to the renovated beer garden where Strop proceeds to break her knee on an over-sized steel girder holding up our table. It could easily hold up the harbour bridge but has been given lighter duties, no doubt in the service of irony. (Ha!)

The beer garden is airy and feels more spacious than on previous visits. The covid marshall wears a jaunty high-vis sash, and the place is full of families and young children, some of whom are intent on driving their prams, and their hovering fathers, to the edges of navigation. I am tempted by the offerings on the blackboard, but Strop reins in my impulsiveness by reminding me to save myself for Thai La Ong.

On that self-righteous note we drink up and head for the pre-dinner rendezvous at the Courty. Where we run into the Chippy just getting off his bicycle. Timing, eh?

While he finds a convenient pole to chain up to, Strop and I form an orderly queue outside the pub. Covid rules. Numbers restricted. Scan here. Wait there. Some people go out. Some go in. More people go out, we go in. For our convenience, and to avoid crowding around the bar, we can order with our phone. What a wonderful world. Just download the app, create a log in, nominate a payment method, no, not that one, try again, what was it you wanted? Beers. Anything else?

It took a while—about as long as it took for us to start doubting that the system actually worked—but a jug of Coopers and three glasses arrived eventually. Cheers.

Having mastered the system, and anticipating delays, we order more beers. And chips.

The Stropolina and Lagilou arrived. Cheers. Lemonade. More beers. Cheers.

Eventually we peeled ourselves off our stools and headed onto a twilit Kings Street. The crowds were a bit of a freak out for us country folk. Narrow pavements. Single-file negotiations. Strop and I rubber-necking, playing spot the difference.

“Didn’t this used to be…” “Yeah, but look, that place is still there.” “Is it open?” “Hard to tell…”

Definitely no frozen yoghurt places. Still a few burger joints. Plenty of Thai. Perhaps a bit more Turkish.

And Thai La Ong was still there, right where we left it.

Not as busy as in pre-covid days. Almost empty, in fact. It was still early because we were dining with a two-year old, but I imagine that the absence of international students has devastated the cheaper end of King Street’s restaurant business.

But looking on the bright side, they had plenty of room for our little party and Lagilou wasn’t going to disturb any intimate romantic dinners. After a while we realised that there was a steady stream of helmeted take-away riders coming and going. That’s where the customers were—at home, watching Netflix.

Complimentary prawn crackers arrived and were devoured. Then we had to remember the rules of ordering.

Number 37. Ginger Stir Fry. With chicken.

Mussaman curry. Spicy rice with pork belly. Pad See Ew. Duck salad. Boiled rice.

Yum.

Strop and the Chippy distracted Lagilou with drawings of motorbikes until the food arrived.

Yummo.

Duck salad—know what I mean? Ma-ate, you don’t get that in Bermi. Pad See Ew, yum. Pork belly, yes please.

The only real disappointment was the Mussaman which was tough and overly sweet.

We wended our weary way back along King Street in the wake of Lagilou, who wielded a rainbow flavoured icecream cone as if it was a wand, bestowing blessings on all, and asking “What’s your name?” A fitting end to another memorable episode of the quest.

273 Bangkok Bites – fast and furious Thai for the movies

August 23, 2015 by Andrew Christie 5 Comments

Well, that didn’t take long.

This is our first go at repainting the bridge and it’s a great chance to check out the changing face of King Street. We haven’t been idle during our short hiatus. We made a pilgrimage back to where it all started at Number 6 where we had lovely quiet meal at Izote. We’ve also checked out Luyu &Yum Yum, which definitely deserves further investigation and a post of its own – if only for the chance to have another of their wonderful whisky sours. Excursions up and down the coast have revealed quite a few culinary highlights including Vietnamese at Newcastle with Camilla and Tim, burgers and retro rock at Catherine Hill Bay pub, home cooked chicken-in-milk courtesy of Peter and Zena down in the banjo picking hills of Cobargo, and a Quarterdeck breakfast on the inlet at Narooma with Lisa and Greg. So much food, so little time. Oh well, we can only eat what is put in front of us, I suppose.

You know you're on the south coast when... — You know you’re on the south coast when…

Bangkok Bites is a relative newcomer to the King Street midlands, replacing the unlamented Simply Noodles. Whereas its predecessor was for a long time, grey and empty, Bangkok Bites is all colour and movement with plenty of saliva inducing smells coming from the kitchen. The decor and the set up is reminiscent of the original Chat Thai, although there aren’t people queueing outside to get in. Not yet anyway. The new restaurant is located in a prime position, close to the cinema and promotes itself as bringing a taste of Bangkok street food to King Street. They certainly have the staff to provide quick turnarounds. Strop counted six in the kitchen and four on the floor. Vroom.

As we were shown to our seats, it was clear that they had squeezed as many tables as possible into the space available – I had to step into the very busy corridor to remove my jacket, holding up the progress of three waitresses. As one poured us glasses of water she told us that the establishment is cash only and BYO. Important to establish the ground rules up front. Luckily we had come prepared with folding stuff fresh from the ATM and a nice little bottle of pinot grigio. The other clientele were all couples of various denominations, presumably lots of date nights going on. It’s not really the place for big group tables, Thai Pothong has that scene pretty much sown up anyway. The colour scheme features lots of red and yellow, with occasional bursts of flames from the kitchen.

The menu is a comprehensive full-colour large-format booklet, full of graphic stylings that match the graffiti mural along the main wall of the restaurant. I went straight to number 37 which turned out to be a noodle dish, oddly called Buddy Bites Noodles. I didn’t read any further, I was just glad not to have to count my way through the menu. Strop fancied Kung Fu Fritters because she is a sucker for corn fritters as should be clear by now. We also continued our duck salad tradition.

The young couple at the table next to us were drinking coke in fake jam jars (handles? can we please end this madness), and having a deep and meaningful discussion about Game of Thrones, how the women have the best storylines (hmm possibly… except for the short guy), and how someone was “not long for this world,” however it was unclear just which world they were referring to. That’s how close the tables are.

Our food arrived quickly and the servings were large. Very large. Number 37 was first, piled high with noodles and dotted with slices of chicken and beef (oh, so that’s the buddy reference, I should have read the fine print). The flavours were clean and fresh but a bit sweet for me – maybe due to the chilli jam marinade used on the chicken. The duck salad was daunting too, basically a roast duck breast, sliced thickly and laid out on a bed of lettuce. On further investigations there were lots of salad bits and dressing hidden under the duck. And it tasted great, just a slightly deconstructed take on salad. Plenty of luscious duck, looking as if it was still waiting for a formal introduction to the onion and coriander. The fritters were tasty and crunchy, and came with big wedges of fried tofu. I ate them because they were crunchy but I still don’t see the point of tofu.

Bangkok Bites is a hectic and tasty experience. The staff are efficient and attentive despite occasionally sprinting from one end of the restaurant to the other. It’s a great place for a pre or post movie meal, and I’m sure it will give the Italian Bowl a run for its money.

We enjoyed the food, but were defeated by its sheer volume, and had to request a takeaway container to take the excess home. I’m looking forward to those leftovers.

Our journey home was slightly delayed when Strop was taken by the window display next door at Hum. She was taking photos of The Killing DVD box set because she wanted to copy the knitting pattern. Very Strop.

593 Ladda’s The Thai Takeaway – Number 37’s last hurrah plus afters at Izba

July 11, 2015 by Andrew Christie Leave a Comment

It’s Saturday night and it’s cold and Painting the Bridge is on the prowl for some fresh Thai. And to give Number 37 it’s last ever official Quest outing (until we start repainting the bridge). We’ve been walking past Ladda’s ever since getting the train to St Peters, rather than Newtown, became a more efficient way of questing. Ladda’s window display of fresh ingredients, waiting for their turn to be called up for some wok time, has always been appealing. I wonder why more restaurants don’t do this – it certainly advertises the freshness of the made-to-order menu.

Tonight it is just Strop and I, in an unscheduled outing. We were supposed to be away this weekend but had to cancel those plans as I have had the flu all week and didn’t feel up to driving for hours down to the south coast. Mind you, walking to Ladda’s takes nearly as long, and it’s is a cold night so it is a relief to eventually step into the bright fluorescent lwarmth, and to have our nostrils filled with foody aromas. The staff are mildly surprised, and a bit amused, by our desire to eat in rather than take our food away. Judging by the array of old newspapers spread out on the tables, the shopfront is mainly used as a waiting room for takeaway pickups rather than dining. There are lots of tasty-sounding specials pinned up around the walls on bright orange bits of A4 paper, and plenty of vegetarian options. The soft-shell crab immediately grabs Strop’s attention and I am drawn to something ducky – in this case the salad. We already have our hearts set on these before we remember that we have to include Number 37 in our calculations. Oh well, three mains, it’s a bit like having two mains and a couple of entrees, I suppose. Number 37 turns out to be lamb with green beans. For drinks, we each have a bottle of ginger beer.

Ladda’s has their kitchen up front, occupying half the shop, so you get a good view of the wok work and plenty of sizzles and smells. All the time we were there, the telephone orders kept coming in and the takeaway orders kept going out. It’s a popular place with the locals, and when our food arrives it is easy to see why. The servings and the flavours are generous, and there are plenty of fresh, crunchy vegetables. The lamb and beans are a bit of a hit, tasty, crisp and hot, possibly the best Number 37 ever. The roast duck salad is also very good, although given how cold a night it is we might have done better with a duck curry. The soft-shell crab is excellent, crunchy, with lots of vegetables and a sharp sweetness to it.

If Ladda’s was a bit closer to home I think I would get all our Thai takeaways from there – Thai La-Ong is our current takeaway of choice.

Despite having over ordered, we managed to save enough room for a nice bit of Russian cake at Izba. At last. I opt for their “most famous” honey cake and a cup of Russian Caravan tea (well obvs) but Strop has a bit of trouble with the whole ordering thing. Every cake she selects from the menu is out of stock. She finally settles on the Birds Milk cake, and a decaf coffee.

Luckily, the light, layered, creamy cakes come in bite size as well as brick size so we have no trouble squeezing them in. I really liked the honey cake but I think Strop’s Birds Milk was the winner, despite it’s bizarre name. Suitably fortified, we step outside and struggled home along King Street, through the blizzard of Saturday night incomers.

543 Doytao Thai – Where 37 = 7.1

May 3, 2015 by Andrew Christie 4 Comments

Here we are at another Thai place. Just like Sydney’s buses, they seem to travel in packs.

Doytao Thai is one of the few restaurants in this part of the King Street strip that always seems to be busy. It certainly was on the night we visited. The noise levels made conversation difficult at times, especially for those of us a bit older and harder of hearing. Which was most of us.

Doytao is a bit of a local institution, having been around for a while, and it must be successful, as it has spawned a Thai food empire. There are eight Doytao restaurants stretching from Boronia Park to Sutherland. They must be doing something right.

The Newtown version occupies a broad double frontage and has big louvred windows at the front. There are a lot of generously sized timber tables that offer a lot of room for a dining couple, however when they are arranged, say for a group of five or six, the poor people sitting in the middle have to straddle the joint between the tables as well as having to accommodate both table legs between their knees.

We were joined by some of Strop’s crafting mates for the evening: Cecilie and Susan. Susan’s husband, Ed, and I were just along for the ride really – our challenge was to try to steer the conversation away from dangerous and contentious subjects like crocheting or knitting, towards safer calmer conversational waters. I was imagining we’d be pushing topics like politics or religion, but Ed opted to take things in a deeply personal and affecting direction, into the kind of territory that is more common in royal commissions and the media, than it is in Thai restaurants. His story of his primary school days at a Melbourne Catholic school shocked all of us – except perhaps Susan. Ed is a proper writer (the type who do research and deal in facts) so his story may well end in a book. However hard it may have been for Ed to talk about, he did keep the conversation away from knitting and crochet. For a while anyway.

Eventually we moved on to the discussion of food. This led to Cecilie admitting that she now eats things. I was confused by this, but it was apparently a reference to the fact that Cecilie used to be something of a ‘fussy eater’. Although now the term nowadays is probably wuss. Or perhaps vegan. Her emergence into the world of actual food has been curated by her new boyfriend, who is by way of being a Slovak. They know a thing or two about food, your Eastern Europeans, especially meat, and especially pig meat. And other pig bits. This revelation led to a bit of reminiscing by all of us about dead pigs we have known, but that line of conversation came to an abrupt end when Ed told the story of visiting a friend’s house when he was a child and being confronted by dead pig in the bath. Being bled out apparently. It’s a wonder he’s so normal really.

The menus at Doytao are numbered, but not in a way that is useful for establishing the identity of number 37. It’s numbered by section – 2.3 or 6.8, that kind of thing – so we had to resort to old fashioned counting. 37 turned out to be 7.1 – BBQ Pork, which was subsequently confirmed by Susan’s recount. That was me sorted, time to work out what everyone else was eating. I put a veto on fish cakes after last week’s revelation on their pointlessness (although Susan assured me that her homemade versions were delectable – I’m waiting for an invitation). Cecilie decided to stick with tradition and go for Pad Thai in the vegetarian format and Susan was keen on the Roasted Duck Salad. Strop and Ed wanted to try a steamed fish. This was called Exotic Fish – a whole snapper with Tasty Sauce, and minced chicken, and ginger, and vegetables.

All the women had bought a bottle of wine which was good because the men had other things to think about. I did manage to drink a bit of all of three bottles: the prosecco, the riesling and the sav blanc. I think the riesling was the winner out of that lot. And probably me.

There weren’t really any standouts in the dishes we ordered. I enjoyed the BBQ Pork and the Pad Thai, although Susan reckoned it wasn’t as good as the Sailor’s Thai version. I don’t think any of us were really surprised by that revelation. The duck salad seemed a bit on the sour side to me, but there was plenty of duck. The fish was a bit disappointing – or rather the Tasty Sauce. The fish itself was nice but it was overpowered by a lot of glutinous sauce.

Despite having plenty of staff, the service at Doytao Thai was far from attentive. Except for water. The water guy was great, always coming up with a fresh bottle just when you needed it. Pretty much everything else we had to ask for. This left us with plenty of uninterrupted time for chattering, but it would have been nice to have been asked if we were ready to order, or to have the plates cleared away in one go rather than having half of them waiting for another twenty minutes, or to have been asked if we wanted dessert. We didn’t, but that’s not the point.

534 Thai Hot Pepper – Good company is the clear winner

April 25, 2015 by Andrew Christie 1 Comment

Thai time again. At last, it’s been so long that I had nearly forgotten about Number 37. The last Thai restaurant was Newtown Thai II Express, all the way back at the station.

Tonight we are joined by The Julies who are newcomers to the quest. So we will treat them gently. Mostly. When I arrived (last of course, stopped for a quick beer and to finish reading Bring Up the Bodies), the first thing I noticed about Thai Hot Pepper was the noise. The traffic is incredibly noisy when buses or trucks start up from the traffic lights just outside. It took me two goes to say hello to everyone because it was so loud. Every time I opened my mouth another bus went past. I wonder if the noise is amplified by the wedge-shaped building, jammed into the corner of King and Angel Streets. The restaurant has a long glass front to King St. which also helps in capturing every rumble and vibration, but it does make it easy to watch the police cars sirening their way up and down, busily keeping the peace.

With hellos finally said and arses settled on seats we got down to some serious nattering. It was hectic, the conversation became so frenzied that we kept having to send the waitress away because we still hadn’t managed to look at the menu. My gender disadvantage became obvious early on as the topics lurched outside my comfort zone and into the dangerous territory of the mechanics of breast surgery and child birth. I was on safer ground when the chat veered towards camper vans although there too, I have to admit, my knowledge is mostly theoretical.

When the waitress turned up for the third time we decided we had better take the menu seriously. The first thing was to find out what Number 37 was. Unsurprisingly, it fell within the Stir Fry section – Cashew Nuts in this case, with your choice of chicken pork or beef. We went chicken.

One of The Julies was keen on a mussoman curry as it is relatively mild and she has a physical reaction to chilli. Coughing in her case. My own physical reaction to chilli is hiccuping. I was looking forward to a duet, but nothing we ordered was hot enough to set us off. There are two types of mussoman available – the traditional one with beef and a new one on us: lamb shank mussoman. We had to try that.

The other one of The Julies liked the sound of the panang curry (we went pork for that one) and Strop and I are always suckers for a roasted duck salad. For starters we stuck with tradition: spring rolls, curry puffs, and fish cakes.

Now, I have to admit that in doing my due diligence research (a bit late as it turns out – didn’t take enough notes did I) I realise that we were so busy discussing women’s health issues that we missed the main feature of Thai Hot Pepper. Their BBQ. That’s their speciality apparently, served with Special Sauce. And I’m quite fond of a special sauce. We really are going to have to lift our game on the research front, and preferably before we inflict ourselves on the next restaurant.

Anyway, the entrees were quick to arrive and the curry puffs were the clear winners – somehow managing to be both fluffy and crisp at the same time. And tasty too. The spring rolls were fresh and crunchy but the fishcakes were disappointing. Sometime I’m going to have to remind myself just why it is we keep ordering them.

Somewhere in-between courses one of The Julies wanted to know if there was going to be a sequel to Left Luggage, and if so, why didn’t I hurry up. Okay, of course, yes, just give me a minute, I thought to myself, I’m just in the middle of rewriting it because I decided to change the main character, and that means changing the POV (point of view) in most of the scenes, and I also had the brilliant idea of changing the gender of one of the villains. So more rewriting. These things take time and involve quite a few panic attacks along the way. But don’t worry, it won’t be long. Probably only another seven drafts to go. Oh and I’m about 30,000 words short of a novel, so… you know, I’m sure it’ll be okay. Eventually.

The duck salad was my favourite of the mains. Succulent pieces of duck and a nicely balanced salad. The panang curry was good too – creamy and aromatic. The cashew nut and chicken stir fry was strangely sweet, and the mussoman with lamb shank was a bit disappointing too. The flavours of the curry were good but the lamb shank wasn’t nearly tender enough.

We had a great night out. The food wasn’t brilliant, but it was good enough, and there wasn’t much left behind. The waitress had to make two attempts to clear the dishes away. I was still picking.

The thing about the quest is that it is like any night out: the quality of the company is far more important than the quality of the venue. Thai Hot Pepper is a simple local Thai restaurant with good service and reasonable food.

337 – Newtown Thai II Express – Another sequel. They just keep coming

May 31, 2014 by Andrew Christie Leave a Comment

I am a bit disappointed that Newtown Thai II ‘express’ isn’t just called Newtown Thai 2½. It would be easier to say and would convey something of the diminuitive scale, because it is a small place. Just four tables, a big counter, then the kitchen behind, producing lots of good cooking smells amid lots of clanking of woks. It does a lot of takeaway trade, but when we visited most of the other tables were occupied as well, so we didn’t feel totally out of place. The main decorative elements in the restaurant are the bright green walls and the bright pink menus. There are also gorgeous upholstered tissue dispensers allocated to each table, it is worth going just to check them out.

The upholstered tissue dispensers are not to be sneezed at

It is not clear to me if all of these Newtown Thai variations are related in any way other than by the first two words in their names and the shape of their signs. I suppose the only way to find out would be to ask questions, but that would constitute research, and I’m afraid that is something I am not prepared to do. If you want research you are better off watching Four Corners.

Our third excursion to the Newtown Thai variants, was on a midweek night in order to meet up with an old friend from Canberra who was in town to get all intellectualled-up at the Writers Festival, with some of her book group mates.

I arrived a bit late due to a CityRail enforced scenic detour via Summer Hill. The packed train steamed straight past platform 1 at Newtown – no explanation was offered. I was waiting ready to get off, but instead watched the crowded platform speed past the windows, as I assumed that I must have miscounted and that it had been Macdonaldtown (an unusually popular Macdonaldtown, it has to be said). Then the guard’s voice came over the speakers, sounding as confused as his passengers. “Aah, well it seems that we have failed to stop at Newtown… umm… next scheduled stop is… Strathfield so… hang on a sec. Click.” We all waited, breath baited, and imaginations whirring. Was the guard rushing to the front of the train to drag the unconscious driver off the go button (or what ever makes the train go), or was the guard posting something on the drivers Facebook timeline, asking him to drag himself away from watching cat vs robot-vacuum-cleaner videos. Then the speaker crackled into life, “Aah… as you’ve noticed we, ah… missed the Newtown Station… but we think we can make a special stop at Summer Hill though…”

By the time I got back to Newtown. Strop and our guests Judy and Allison were settled in and chattering away, catching up on things Canberran. Being experienced public servants they were concerned at our recent lax attitude to the rules of the quest, and offered to inspect and certify our ongoing adherence thereto. We concurred (it just seems easier as we weren’t entirely sure what they had said).

As Judy is a kind of vego (seafood-tolerant clique) we order plenty of vegetable and fishy things, and some duck salad that she is not allowed to have. Conveniently number 37 turns out to be in the seafood section: Pad Snowpeas (?). Our waiter is a very cute and attentive young boy, who immediately brings out the nurturing instincts in the womenfolk. “Make sure you note how good he is,” they say. So I will. He was very good, right up to the point when he returned with the bad news that number 37 was not available. “What about 73?” Strop immediately asked. The boy looked confused, and not just because there is no 73 (the menu runs out at 71). So we opt for 38 instead, which as luck would have it, is also seafood.

Soon the table is being occupied by plates full of spring rolls and fish cakes, which are good. Then the mains start to arrive. The duck salad is nice, although the flavours seem a bit too intense to me. There is a satay dish which is a bit disappointing but the seafood is good.

The conversation frolicked around the writers festival, books in general, literature in particular, and the imminent decimation of the public service. We then got onto what-the-children-are-doing. It turns out that one of Judy’s boys is very good at the football thing, and she is looking forward to the day when he will be making enough squillions to cover the cost of all the lasagne he eats. At least I think that is what she said.

Newtown Thai 2½ (see how well that rolls off the tongue) is a cheap and cheerful local Thai option. It’s not the best, but it’s certainly not the worst either.