Tara
Thai Northwest
1310
NW 23rd Ave., 222-7840
Lunch and
dinner daily. Children
welcome. Moderate.
Picks:
ban seo (Southeast Asian crepe), yum hoi
(green mussel salad), khao poon nam kai (Laotian
rice-noodle soup), nem paa (ground grilled fish)
Nice
touch:
Owner Lavanny Phommaneth discusses Laotian and Thai cuisine
at your table.
If you have ever asked a waiter about a dish only
to be met with a blank stare, a helpless shrug and a promise
to inquire of the chef, Tara Thai Northwest will restore
your faith in restaurant expertise. Lavanny Phommaneth,
the owner of this pleasant Thai-Laotian spot housed in a
Northwest Portland Victorian, will happily inform you about
galangal and tamarind or tell you how to wrap
minced grilled fish in greens and noodles. She'll even offer
a disquisition on the culinary mores of the two countries
and how their cuisines stem from their national cultures.
If you've ever wondered about fresh coconuts or the poetry
of Thai food terms--kung ten, for example, means
"dancing shrimp" and applies when the crustaceans are hopping
fresh--Phommaneth will slake your curiosity.
But you go to Tara Thai to eat, not to take notes. The
third and only remaining outpost in the Tara Thai empire
(the other locations were in Beaverton and Tigard) stakes
its reputation in part on being the only local restaurant
to serve Laotian and Thai cooking. The restaurant has
become something of a home base for the considerable Laotian
community in Portland, with Phommaneth as culinary den
mother. It would take an adept or native palate to discern
the differences between Thai and Laotian styles, and for
most of us the presence of dishes from Laos means an expanded
menu rather than a radically distinct one. Several items
are really cross-over dishes, showing up on either side
of the Thai-Lao border. Indeed, many of the same spices
show up in both cuisines, especially peppers, galangal
and lime leaves, as well as staples such as rice noodles
and coconut. But you'll also find here such Laotian signatures
as banana blossom garnishes, steamed and grilled banana
leaf wrappings, sweet rice served in little wicker baskets,
a (relatively) succulent style of fried beef jerky and
fish cooked simply with citrus marinades.
The restaurant's space is simple and homey, consisting
of two carpeted rooms on either side of a broad entrance
hall. Fan-shaped bamboo chairs and a few paintings of
Thai subjects are the sole suggestions of Southeast Asia.
The restaurant sits in the midst of the New Age stretch
of Northwest 23rd Avenue, a neighborhood where you wouldn't
be surprised to find a Thai massage practitioner or even
Buddhist monks in saffron-hued robes stopping in for curry
tofu.
There's always a menu sheet of Laotian specialties, and
it usually includes a splendid rice-noodle soup (khao
poon nam kai) garnished with fresh banana blossoms
flown in from Hawaii. Basil leaves and galangal, a root
more lemony and peppery than common ginger, give the broth
a kick; tiny chunks of long beans provide crunch; coconut
milk smooths the concoction; and generous pieces of chicken
complete the ensemble. There are pots of hot sauces on
the side in case your fire tolerance is impressively high.
There is nothing wrong with substituting local ingredients
as long as they don't undermine the characteristic taste
of a dish, so salmon is the choice in a Laotian recipe
for grilled fish (pla yaang). The fish has been
marinated in lemon grass and garlic, but the glory of
the affair is the assortment of vegetables: They've been
steamed and mixed with roasted ginger paste to impart
a smoky, pungent aroma. For duck lovers there's a platter
of boneless slices sautéed in lemon grass and coconut
milk (pad paneng ped); with the skin removed, there's
little fat.
Another fine Lao specialty (hoo mok kai-neung pak)
consists of steamed chicken marinated with spicy herbs,
then wrapped in banana leaves and steamed again. Inside
the leafy packet the chicken simmers in coconut milk for
a dense, creamy consistency, while an artful spray of
green onions carved like flowers accompanies these plump
envelopes.
Not every Laotian dish is memorable, however. Thin grilled
pork chops are too dry and uninteresting to stand up to
the other dishes; served with plain steamed vegetables,
this dish is utterly banal, a far cry from its more exotic
cousins on the menu. But one of the more unusual numbers
is another thin meat: The fried beef jerky (som tum-neua
savan), considerably more tender than the rawhide
found on tavern counters in this country, is offset by
papaya salad, the luscious young green fruit playing off
the hot chili sauce. The medley of flavors is sensational:
brown sugar, astringent fish sauce, fresh lime juice and
vampire-slaying amounts of garlic. If you go to Tara Thai
Northwest in the summer, be sure to order this refreshing
yet spicy salad and a Thai beer, especially if you eat
on the deck under a sheltering canopy of leaves.
If you crave a non-Western morning meal and you've had
your dim sum quota for the month, a Thai breakfast makes
a good substitute--it will open your eyes wide on a Sunday
morning (provided you sleep in, that is, since the place
opens at 11 am). Well over half the dishes are distinct
from those on the regular menu. There's a house omelette
with shrimp or ground pork, tomato and scallions; it's
more like a frittata, really, but a tad too dry and thin.
I prefer the Southeast Asian crepe (ban seo), made
from rice flour and curry powder, filled with a choice
of meats, and then wrapped at the table in a mix of greens.
This unusual combination comes with a dipping sauce made
from dried shrimp and chili paste.
Thais and Laotians adore soup for morning meals, and
several preparations are famous on river boats, where
the morning's catch inevitably winds up in a rich broth
laced with ground peanuts. Even more wonderful is mee
ka-tee, a stew-like mini-meal of wide rice noodles,
quail eggs, banana blossoms, ground pork and vegetables
swimming in a luscious coconut-infused broth. You won't
find sandwiches in this cuisine, but wrapped food is the
indigenous equivalent. The best example is nem paa,
an outstanding brunch item of grilled fish minced with
rice, then packaged with cilantro, lettuce leaves, bean
sprouts and small noodles, all of which are bathed in
a sweet chili sauce.
The menu descriptions might strike one as repetitious,
even obsessive. Coconut milk, mint, chili pepper and ginger
come up so often the names nearly make for a mantra. But
what's intriguing is how the combinations of these components
appear completely different from one another--how many
sensations you can enjoy with a relatively small number
of ingredients. Tara Thai has clearly established the
Bangkok-Vientiane connection.
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Willamette Week | originally
published March 31,
1999
|
