Birthday marathon in our family starts off at the twilight of summer and finishes just in time to start Thanksgiving-Christmas preparations. After Christmas, we rest, squeeze one more birthday at the peak of spring, and dive into the sunny season.
It is October. Under cloudy skies we are marching across the Gowanus Canal to celebrate the birthday boy in Carrol Gardens.
We are, in Brooklyn at the Michelin rated Hungry Thirsty for the food of Southern Thailand.
The entrance door is a bright yellow backdrop for the crowd awaiting the opening. Most of the tables are reserved but they seat us at the table two without making a fuss. We are watching chicken wings steadily flying out of the kitchen onto the tables. Looks like this is their most popular dish.
The stuff is efficient without a hover. They don’t make you wait and don’t push you out. The kitchen is an open space in the back and they do not mind you watching the process.
The flames are flying high asking for the Instagram.
The menu is short. There’s a dry beef curry on the menu, Kang Ped Nuer, marked as brutally spicy not with three flames but with three angry faces. Dry curries are my favorite.
Among the US Thai restaurants, there’s no consensus on what constitutes spicy hot. Some define their heat levels according to the American palate, others go originally Thai. In one restaurant you can order 10 on a scale 1-10 and feel nothing, in another one, what marked as medium can make the hair on your head move. We’ve been in the situations when our ordered dish was so hot, we’d take it home and finish one piece at a time in a course of the week.
Curiosity killed the cat but I couldn’t go without trying this curry. The server didn’t make a big deal of our hesitation saying: oh, no, you shouldn’t. She confirmed, being Thai, she cried eating this dish and brought us extra napkins with a basket with cucumber slices. We inhaled preparing to step onto the broken glass.
At the first bite, there was nothing. Just an amazing mix of lemon grass, garlic, lime, galangal with funky umami of the shrimp paste. We looked at each other relieved — we can do it. And then it began. Slowly. Originating somewhere under the sternum, raising up the shoulders, up the back of the neck, under the hairline and up and over onto the face. In waves — like tsunami. One wave after another, after another. And then — puff — out of the system. And relief.
Those heat waves were pleasantly paralyzing rather than brutal. We were taking breaks with cucumber slices in between. The heat of that curry did not destroy the taste buds and did not create the situation when, for the rest of the dinner, you can’t even tell what you’re eating. The heat was deep within and not on the tongue. Flavors preceding the heat were addictive and we kept going actually enjoying the sensations.
Once off the heat rollercoaster, we slowly savored Khoong Muk Kai Kem, shrimp and squid in salted duck egg sauce, wiping the bowls clean. Marked as not spicy they were plenty hot for both of us.
To round up the experience, we followed the staff’s suggestion of Put Bung Moo Krob, stir-fried morning glory with crispy pork belly. One can never go wrong with the pork belly, especially when the skin is present.
The experience was worth the trip. And their heat is real deal — make a note of it.
Out of the restaurant, we crossed the Gowanus Canal back, on the way to out next stop.
Walking under the elevated F train — and it is really elevated in this area of Brooklyn — we moved towards The Bell House to celebrate 25 years of Tom’s Favorite The Best Show.
At the venue, we stuck with beer forgoing offered signature cocktails.
Joining the line that spotted some familiar hairstyles, we managed to get good seats by the stage.
Two and some hours of laughs and back on the street making our way home through deserted streets of Brooklyn.
Diversity of this city never ceases to surprise and excite me.
Almost got to the subway but decided for the last night cap at some strange place. No one outside, shabby building without a sign and… suddenly a super modern well stocked bar Queue Beer in the middle of nowhere packed with people.
But all good things come to an end. Heading home now via that super elevated F train — two escalators and a steep staircase to get to the platform. Crazy!
