Review: Thai Bistro in Des Moines, WA
Down in Des Moines, in one of those "location might suck" kind of corners (everyone coming into the town can see the place, but figuring out how to get there, around triangles, traffic islands and even a roundabout, can be tricky) is an inconspicuous little place called the Thai Bistro. From this unassuming name with an unassuming front, you'd assume it was one of those gazillion or so Thai restaurants that dot the Puget Sound landscape.
You'd be half-right.
Inside, you quickly come into something different: a home that has been converted into a restaurant, but with the architecture intact. It feels nothing like a restaurant. Then the other details hit you: every table has a unique and beautiful tablecloth, and where there aren't 19th century wooden dining chairs, the ordinary black four-footed chairs that would have served you in any diner have been clothed in hand-sewn silk covers that not only hide their ordinariness but give the place a bright, cheerful sheen that will make you smile. Each placing is equally carefully chosen and assembled with exquisite care, ending with a seven-inch decorative... thing... of wrought iron that holds it all down while looking like a cross between godzilla's letter opener and the Kaiser's war helmet.
Omaha ordered the Ocean Surprise, with a Mango Lhassi that she later said was completely up to her standards. I ordered something called the Basket of the Sea. (Des Moines is an old fishing boat harbor, now turned over to wealthy people with enough money to buy yachts, but not enough intelligence to live with them sanely.)
The Ocean Surprise consisted of scallops, shrimp, wontons, leechee, avocado and mango in a green curry that was utterly delicious. Everything was cooked perfectly. The Basket of the Sea was a surprise: on oven-baked husk of aluminum foil, inside of which I found mussels, shrimp, scallops, squid, with basil leaves and spinach in a red curry paste so thick it was almost grainy, and so soft it melted to satin when it touched my tongue. With a side of jasmine rice, both meals were delightful. I haven't had red curry like that before, and I will definitely have it again.
There is a family altar along one wall, typical in Thai restaurants, and the kitschiness of it (plastic pumpkins from the recently passed Halloween flickered with LED's next to hand-blown glass vases with flowers) made the rest of the place seem elegant and delightful. The food was fabulous and the ambience extraordinary. It was a momentary transport to another world, and I recommend it.
You'd be half-right.
Inside, you quickly come into something different: a home that has been converted into a restaurant, but with the architecture intact. It feels nothing like a restaurant. Then the other details hit you: every table has a unique and beautiful tablecloth, and where there aren't 19th century wooden dining chairs, the ordinary black four-footed chairs that would have served you in any diner have been clothed in hand-sewn silk covers that not only hide their ordinariness but give the place a bright, cheerful sheen that will make you smile. Each placing is equally carefully chosen and assembled with exquisite care, ending with a seven-inch decorative... thing... of wrought iron that holds it all down while looking like a cross between godzilla's letter opener and the Kaiser's war helmet.
Omaha ordered the Ocean Surprise, with a Mango Lhassi that she later said was completely up to her standards. I ordered something called the Basket of the Sea. (Des Moines is an old fishing boat harbor, now turned over to wealthy people with enough money to buy yachts, but not enough intelligence to live with them sanely.)
The Ocean Surprise consisted of scallops, shrimp, wontons, leechee, avocado and mango in a green curry that was utterly delicious. Everything was cooked perfectly. The Basket of the Sea was a surprise: on oven-baked husk of aluminum foil, inside of which I found mussels, shrimp, scallops, squid, with basil leaves and spinach in a red curry paste so thick it was almost grainy, and so soft it melted to satin when it touched my tongue. With a side of jasmine rice, both meals were delightful. I haven't had red curry like that before, and I will definitely have it again.
There is a family altar along one wall, typical in Thai restaurants, and the kitschiness of it (plastic pumpkins from the recently passed Halloween flickered with LED's next to hand-blown glass vases with flowers) made the rest of the place seem elegant and delightful. The food was fabulous and the ambience extraordinary. It was a momentary transport to another world, and I recommend it.