I'm often asked how I find the restaurants reviewed in this space. Mostly I drive around, but occasionally I rely on press releases or personal recommendations that don't always prove worthwhile.
I found out about Thai Dahra from someone who turned out to be the husband of the chef, a beautiful Thai woman named Ayuttasara, a.k.a. Keo. "My wife is a great cook and you really should come by and try her food," he enjoined. Sure, pal, I thought, filing the information away somewhere in the back of my mind. Then, one day last month, I got the urge for Thai food and remembered the tip. I wish I had gone sooner.
Thai Dahra serves delicious food at low prices, and more importantly, isn't yet getting the attention it deserves. The restaurant has been open a scant six months, and its location, behind a Bank of America in a large, nondescript mini-mall on the busy corner of Tropicana and Pecos, is a tad hard to spot.
Each time I've eaten here, the large dining room has been conspicuously uncrowded and I've had the staff's full attention. It's a cavernous, dimly-lit place, decorated with artificial trees, Thai art and various travel posters. There is a stage, a dance floor smack in the middle of the room, and a number of leatherette booths to sink into.
But you don't come here for the atmosphere. Keo, in the tradition of good Thai woman chefs, is an accommodating sort who will make it mild, spicy or incendiary, as you wish. She's from Northeast Thailand, or I-saan, the stronghold of dishes such as som tam, a raw green papaya salad; larb, ground meat mixed with rice powder and eaten in the hollow of a cabbage leaf; barbecued chicken; and sticky rice, served in cylindrical bamboo vessels.
My first meal here was delightful and I've been craving her food ever since. That day, I had Thai beef jerky: dried, deep-fried beef that you dip in a murky, brown chili sauce; a chicken larb and a dish of pad see ew, flat rice noodles cooked with sweet soy sauce and eggs, plus your choice of meat. Then I ordered some som tam and sticky rice to go, surprised that it still retained its fire and flavor later in the evening.
Som tam is a popular street dish is Thailand and Keo makes the best version I've had in town. It is composed of shredded, raw, green papaya—which has a vegetal flavor nothing like the ripe yellow fruit—plus cracked tomatoes, peanuts, chili, garlic and a pile of dried shrimps, all bound together by fresh lime juice.
Eaten with sticky rice, it is at once the perfect bar dish: low-fat, low protein and yet immensely satisfying, perfect for inspiring the mouth to rinse itself with a few bottles of Singha, Thailand's national beer.
There are a lot of other treasures on Keo's menu. One is called Thai water grass, a reedy, hollow vegetable of the spinach family. It's called pak-boong in Thai, ong choy in Chinese, and almost impossible to find in less authentic Asian restaurants. But since few Americans know about it, Keo doesn't have it every day. Call ahead, because when she does have it, it's gloriously fresh, served in a soy and black bean bath, amazing over rice.
There is also sup nor mai, one of her northeast specialties that can be ordered off the menu. This is a simmered dish made from fresh bamboo and red chilis, an acquired taste for the uninitiated. Try it with the sticky rice and one of the larb—preferably chicken or pork—and you're eating exactly like someone from Northeast Thailand.
The more conventional dishes don't get short shrift. Keo's pad Thai is a treat: not too sweet, laced with crushed peanuts and best with four or five of her plump, delicious poached shrimp, which she'll supply for a small surcharge.
Tom yum goong is a broth that relies on shrimp, lime, chili and vegetables. It's one of the glories of Thai cuisine, and quite spicy. Give fish cakes, or tod mun, a shout, even if the rubbery texture isn't familiar. Shot through with basil, they are eaten with the sticky Thai sweet-and-sour red sauce, and another great beer dish.
I was disappointed with her Thai barbecued chicken, though. First of all, it isn't chicken but Cornish game hen. Secondly, it is barely spiced and annoyingly bland, given how well-seasoned her other dishes are. Ditto for deep-fried tofu and spicy beef, a pair of unadorned components with which the chef appears to be going through the motions. All in all, though, you can pretty much order anything on the menu with confidence.
I'd say that's one lucky husband.