Restaurant Review: Dara Thai

Packing heat

By: Bill Kohlhaase
Published online: Friday, August 31, 2012
Appeared in: Pasateimpo

Who forgets their first Thai restaurant? Mine occupied a narrow storefront on a side street in Hollywood. The dishes were laced with chile oils, fish paste, peanuts, ginger, and coconut milk, fresh mint, lemon grass, and bean sprouts. They carried names like pad Thai, tom kha gai, and larb, and they were revelations. That was three decades ago. Since then, Thai restaurants have come to be as numerous as Cantonese and Indian. Pan- Asian restaurants now show as much Thai as Chinese influence. And Thai has gone even more exotic. A Thai café called Pok Pok in culinary-conscious Portland, Oregon, run by an Anglo chef who spent time learning his craft in Thailand, is currently one of America’s most celebrated restaurants (a new Pok Pok just opened in New York). There you can feast on cunningly seasoned sausages, curries made with coconut cream instead of milk, and dishes like grilled boar collar or stewed duck leg in five-spice soy broth served with mustard greens and a duck egg. On my last visit there, I was overwhelmed by a plate of smoked pork ribs and green chiles served with toasted soybean cakes.

Dara Thai more resembles my first Thai experiences than my last. You enter into a long bar with rattan stools. The two dining rooms are decorated with trompe l’oeil paintings of bamboo frames and palm leaves. The second dining room has an attractive fireplace surrounded by Thai statuary; the first hosts a monkey atop one of the painted bamboo poles. The long menu has all the Thai classics, most done decently, at prices that are relatively reasonable (especially at lunch). The flavors here may not be as pronounced as at the best Thai spots, nor are the fresh vegetables and garnishes as one expects with Thai food, abundant. But Dara Thai does have one unique feature. When your server — there seems to be only one, and he’s everywhere at once — asks you how hot you’d like it, know that he’s talking about a one-to- five scale, five being the spiciest. Let me suggest that you start with two. That’s how I ordered panang, a red curry that’s usually a bit spicy to begin with. The light warmth of the dish allowed the sweet creaminess of the sauce, brightened by shards of red pepper and tender chicken, to come through. That first delightful meal revealed three things about Dara. It has excellent soups centered on rich, flavorful broths. Its creamy curry dishes are generally decent. And a heat rating of two is one or two shy of what I can personally handle. (There’s a “Wall of Flame” near the bar with photos of those who’ve dared to go five or higher.)

Some decisions are better left to the chef. I was taken aback when the server asked me how spicy I’d like an order of transparent noodles. The heat of three seemed to distract from the dish’s savory promise. An plate of pad Thai noodles, ordered two, was fine, though its sauce was shy as a kid on a first date; shy also on bean sprouts and ground peanuts, a touch it needed. A green curry dubbed Tropical Heat-Wave, ordered five by a friend who fears no chile, was heartily spiced, the burn immediate on the tongue and building as it spread toward the back of the throat. At dinner, the Evil Jungle Princess, a curry of coconut milk, stir-fried chicken, straw mush- rooms, and spices, reputedly had a secret ingredient. My guess is it’s a touch of mustard. The veggie rolls are a crisp bite of cabbage followed by the swim of bean threads, all the sweeter with peanut sauce. Did I mention the soups? The broth of tom yum gai, swimming with tender chicken and vegetables, was so rich it was hard to discern any hint of lemon grass. The tom kha gai was just the right blend of broth and coconut milk. The most disappointing dish was a favorite from Thai restaurants past: larb, a mix of spiced ground beef swimming in chili oil and lime juice with mint and red onion. A cool but spicy treat in its best renditions, the sweet bite of onion giving way to the mint among the heat of the ground meat (it’s excellent with lamb), this version was limp and without the acidic contrast that makes it so invigorating. Take heed: Thai iced coffee here is so strong it’ll make you jabber more than any quadruple-shot drink from Starbucks. And it’s sweet enough to put a smile on even the sourest of faces. On my last visit I again ordered the panang, this time a four. Blazes! The sauce’s rich flavor came through despite the heat. Maybe, maybe, next time I’ll try five.