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| - I generally don't have high expectations for a strip mall joint located two doors down from a suspect foot masseuse.
In the case of Chada Street, the recommendation was advocated by a chef couple; the sister of my friend and her fiancée. The lovely pair is choosing this one a few days prior to tying the knot, so I went with it. And I suspected...even while circling the sketchy block...that Chada Street is really going to nail it.
Inside it's a beautiful space. Classy decor, quite modern, wine room that looks like its been transplanted from a five star steakhouse. It's not wait list full, but there are a lot of people. I'm greatly appeased by all these things. Pavlov salivation kicks in, just in case.
We let the chef couple order family style.
I've been eating Thai for as long as I can remember, and what the hell is this guy ordering? I've barely even heard of Larb. Sausage? This is not how you Thai. But I let them hack at the menu a bit despite my reservations. They go at the wine list too. And I have some of the most delicious, wholesome, and authentic food I've ever eaten. The worst dish I had that night easily bests my favorite neighborhood Thai place.
Fast forward six months. I have a larb and sausage habit, and I'm in town again. Within an hour of checking into our strip hotel I'm dictating to my friends where we are eating dinner. Its an ambitious call...luring a couple white dudes from Dallas and a handful of Indians into a family style Chinatown meal. One of these guys thinks Chili's is the pinnacle of culinary delight. But somehow I make this happen.
We start (of course) with the homemade sausage and larb moo, and some pork belly at the recommendation of the waitress. These low brow but delicious eats nostalgically taste of a third world street vendors wares. The plate of sausage rounds the table and my buddies enthusiastically try it and argue over weather its spicy. Somehow this so intrigued our resident vegetarian that he gets a bite in. Larb is everything I remembered, think lettuce wrap with a lime kick and a bit of spice. Pork belly is underwhelming, but the dipping sauce rescues it.
For dinner we move onto more pedestrian fare. Duck panang curry makes one want to lick the plate clean, crab fat fried rice is lovely, drunken noodles and pad thai were just there to appease the Chilis guy and the vegetarian, but were plenty tasty. Being wine novices we went with a few bottles of good unfiltered cold sake to round out the meal.
My once reluctant friends think I'm Andrew Zimmerman's long lost cousin. "Lets do Chada House Again" became our goto dinner mantra. Unfortunately we didn't make it back - as one of my friends put it "that was the best thai food I've ever eaten and I don't want to ruin the memory". He's a month or two out from living on a street corner and turning tricks for sausage and larb.
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