The little log cabin seems inconsequential when one drives past it; a few pots of fake flowers outside, lacy curtains in the windows, a bright pop of color from the sign reading 'Pad Thai.' Despite it's diminutive appearance and it's self-explanatory name (Pad Thai is, after all, one of the most immediately recognized Thai dishes in the United States, so naming a Thai restaurant after it doesn't exactly take a genius of nomenclature), this particular establishment is far above and beyond the standard ethnic fare in Fairbanks.
Some will argue this point with me, and possibly go to bat for their preferred Interior Alaska Thai spot. To them I respond that, having tried several other joints serving this particular cuisine, none of them have matched Pad Thai's exemplary service, atmosphere and taste. Case in point: yesterday, tired after a long day of work and knowing that I was going home to an apartment in shambles thanks to a bout of furniture buying and rearranging, I called Pad Thai to request an order for pickup. Their response?
"It will be ready in 15 minutes."
A quarter of an hour. Less time than an episode of most television shows. Have you ever had a pizza or an order of Chinese food be ready to eat in 15 minutes, unless you were in a restaurant? I haven't. I don't expect that I ever will, and even if I did, Thai food is probably much better for me. Yes, I had to go get it, but I was already out anyway. I arrived a little before it was ready, and while I waited I had the opportunity to study one of the wall hangings by the register. I have no idea how the artist managed to fold and secure the various patterns of silk that depicted two armies riding into battle on elephants, and I don't want to know, because I think my head would explode upon finding out how long that took. Thus, even when I wasn't going to be eating in the restaurant, the aura of the place managed to affect me. Dining in is even more ridiculously stimulating, because you get the smell and taste of your food and drink mixing with half-shouted exclamations in Thai from the kitchen, the visual of the wall art, and the feel of the heavy rice ladle conforming perfectly to your fingers. This combination of the senses is exactly what dining should be, and Pad Thai rises to that level seemingly effortlessly.
Everything that comes out of the kitchen intended for human consumption is utterly fabulous. The crunchy exterior of the hot rolls gives way to layers of vegetables that shouldn't seem to melt in your mouth but do anyway, no doubt breaking some sort of law about food masquerading as a solid. To pick just one entree is to damn the rest of the menu with faint praise, so I won't go there, but my advice is to try everything at least twice. It's true that by doing this you will no doubt help to make the owners of Pad Thai rich beyond their wildest dreams, but at least you get to enjoy what may well be the best commercially available Thai food to be found outside of Thailand itself.
Plus, maybe if we're lucky they'll invest in some more of those mind-boggling silk pictures.
(In case you need to read MORE rave reviews about Pad Thai before actually venturing there, check out the link to Urban Spoon by clicking on the post title)
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