4543 University Way NE
Seattle, WA 98105
(206) 548-9548
“You know what? Fuck Portland! They have a lot of good food, but they don’t have anything like this!”
After spending a long weekend in Portland, my roommate was plagued with doubts about our beloved Seattle. Why had she missed it so much? It’s more expensive, more self-important and who really gives a damn about the Space Needle? But with one trip to Thai Tom, my roommate’s doubts – and our collective sinuses – were definitively cleared. Dark, loud and crowded, Thai Tom is refreshingly inhospitable for a restaurant on the Ave – the main street in Seattle’s U-District, dominated by the University of Washington’s student population.
A crowd of students sporting North Face fleeces starts to form, standing in the cold and glaring at us through the window as we quickly take our seats, our menus already waiting for us on wooden slabs. Perched uncomfortably on three bar stools, we are just a marble countertop away from the blazing stove. Apart from my roommate’s resolute declaration, there is not much conversation to be had or heard over clanging frying pans and blaring Thai pop. We sit quietly, facing the alternating evils of frigid air from the open door a foot behind us and blasts of steam from the stove in front. Our food is thrown together in front of us and served in minutes along with the checks, our water glasses filled abruptly and without a word. No trace of that bright-smile style of customer service we’ve all grown so used to.
For whatever reason, my fingers always seem to forget how to use chopsticks. They dither and hesitate, fumbling awkwardly before managing to lift a single grain of rice. Not here. There is an unspoken urgency here, and as soon as our dishes – Pad Thai, yellow curry and cashew chicken, respectively – are put in front of us, we proceed, heads bowed, to ardently shove masses of food into our mouths. At a paltry two stars, my Pad Thai still pushes my heat threshold, each noodle delicately coated rather than drenched in a dynamic mixture of spices. But with a maximum capacity somewhere around 25 (and a crowd outside rivaling that number), this is not the place to stop and savor. Make conversation at home over leftovers, not here. Someone has an eye on your seat.
I actually get a chance to talk to our chef, a Thai Tom first for me, as he reaches past me to take a sip from a paper cup on the counter. “How is the food?” he asks with a bemused expression. He knows the answer, knows it is why so many people will stand out in the cold, crowd around the tables, and disregard the occasional cockroach rumor. The food is outstanding, nothing Americanized or watered down, just effortless authenticity. Thai Tom makes no excuse for itself, and has no need to. It’s a quiet confidence amidst the chaos that makes the place so irresistible to students and locals alike.
We finish roughly half of our meals, tip the rest into those trademark takeout boxes and leave the cash on the table (in the age of credit, Thai Tom is stubbornly Cash Only) – a reasonable $24.00 for the three of us. We make our way out without a single farewell or “have a nice day.”
Minutes later my roommate grins sheepishly and says, “We definitely will need to do some more research before you write that review!” Top ratings from me, but I’ve always been a sucker for the standoffish types.
by Nicola Fairhead
