I'm beginning to think that I missed the memo -- the one titled "The Next 50 Restaurants to Open in the Twin Cities Must Be Thai." Seriously, it's getting to the point where a person can't swing so much as a salt-stained Ugg without knocking over a bowl of Tom Yum soup.
It would be an exaggeration to label any of the most recent crop of Thai newbies as watershed dining events, but there are plenty of reasons to make a habit out of any of them. At the top of the list lies Sen Yai Sen Lek. Co-owner Joe Hatch-Surisook takes his culinary cues from both Bangkok street fare and the sense memories of his mother's cooking, which means that much of his tightly focused and affordable menu (nothing tops $12) is unlike anything else available in the Twin Cities.
It's unthinkable to visit the restaurant (its name translates to "Big Noodle, Little Noodle") and not order a noodle dish. But first, don't skip the fabulous lettuce wraps, which arrive looking a bit like a painter's palette, with a pile of curly lettuce leaves surrounded by small piles of chewy dried shrimp, crunchy toasted peanuts, tangy cubed ginger, smoky toasted coconut and, for the brave, incendiary fresh Thai chiles, along with a pungent shrimp sauce. It's a fabulous preview of coming attractions.
Next up: Marvelous spring rolls, diminutive things rolled with cool cucumbers, cooked eggs and a mild pork sausage and served with a brawny tamarind sauce, as well as piping-hot fish cakes that are little brown disks livened with kaffir lime leaves, and plump chicken skewers, perfect for dunking into a zingy peanut sauce. All are a treat.
But back to the noodle dishes. My favorite is a big, steaming bowl of slightly sweet chicken broth filled with snappy shrimp dumplings, thin shavings of barbecued pork, bits of fried garlic, tons of long egg noodles and a handful of pert cilantro. Hatch-Surisook later told me that the dish stems from one his mother made when he was growing up, and all I can say is, he was one lucky kid; it's difficult to imagine anything more satisfying on a subzero day.
Over the course of his menu he utilizes probably eight or nine different noodles, and it's an adventure to slurp through all of them, finding the one that best suits your mood and your appetite. Ditto the dozen-or-so rice dishes.
If Hatch-Surisook's cooking doesn't have the razzle-dazzle good looks found at many of his competitors, it more than makes up for it in terms of sheer flavor. One of the restaurant's most admirable traits is that it doesn't go all Minnesota-tame when it comes to embracing the glorious hot-sour aspects of Thai cooking.
The flavors are sharp and bright, aided in no small part by small glass jars of taste-boosting condiments: love those tantalizing jalapeños in vinegar, the piquant fish sauce ramped up with Thai chiles and the house-toasted-and-ground Thai chiles. It's a do-it-yourself strategy for cranking up the spicy heat, rather than relying upon the kitchen and some crazy, "How hot do you like it?" scale, as if there is universal agreement on what one-through-five actually means.