Where to start? We walk in on a Sunday night; there are perhaps four or five tables occupied. The only person handling the new patrons is Seth who is also the only server working all evening. (Later on, a woman we believe to be the owner, finally starts seating people after it becomes clear that Seth is already stretched to the breaking point.) In any case, Seth finishes his table obligations and scurries over to welcome and seat us. We have just begun looking at the menu and discussing what we’re thinking about when the woman we’ve guessed to be the owner comes over and demands to know if we have a reservation: this, in a place more than half-empty. Uh, yes, and, we give her the name again. Since the room never filled up (and was less than half full at this point), we’re not sure why this was critical, but we give her the name and she walks away: no thank you, no “welcome,” not a word. Strange but…whatever.
After much back-and-forth, the Lovely Dining Companion and I finally choose and place our order. (It is appropriate to note that, as their website explains, “Our menu is best enjoyed when served family-style, though our portion sizes vary according to the dish.”) Seth, by the way, is wonderful…when he’s available. He was already busy and as the evening progressed, things only got worse. He seems to know the menu and the food and is a very upbeat, pleasant guy. He mentions, after she’s ordered, that the LDC is fortunate: she got the last order of sea bass available. I order the branzino. These are not cheap entrees ($30 and $32, respectively) and we wonder a little at the prices given the strikingly spare, moderate décor. The website says “We intend to differentiate ourselves by giving customers a nostalgic glimpse of the past by offering a casual yet exceptional dining experience, reminiscent of 1970s Thai shophouses.” Since I wasn’t in Thailand in the 1970s, I’m not in a position to quibble, but very little about the interior of this quite spacious room reminds me of Thailand—well, there is an oversized portrait of the king. For a place that clearly aspires to be a high-end place (the presentations are lovely and there is clearly an effort at creativity), it feels like the aspirations are a bit too tethered by reality. It’s certainly a pleasant room, but no more than that. They’ve likely chosen to invest their money elsewhere and as a small business are likely on a tight budget anyhow, but the present incarnation doesn’t somehow measure up to the clear ambitions of the menu.

In any event, Seth comes back, quite apologetic: it seems that the sea bass is, in fact, all gone. Oh. Okay…so the Lovely Dining Companion votes for the blue crab. In the meantime, our appetizer has arrived, a clever and artful display. The menu says, “charred eggplant and tomato, with raw radish, fried shallot and spicy tamarind dressing.” I can only speak to my portion but it was more like slices of not-quite-ripe tomato on which were set beautifully rolled strips of eggplant dressed with a very attractive dressing. It’s a cold dish, by the way. Is it cutting edge? Hardly. But it was nicely presented and we (mostly) enjoyed it.
The dishes are cleared and we quickly discover that Nakorn believes in returning your used silver to the table rather than provide new, clean utensils for the next course. This is something I’ve really never understood, don’t like and, in the case of a new place seeking to be thought of as high-end (or higher-end), seems quite out-of-place. Seth suddenly returns to the table. Profusely apologetic. Again. It seems that the kitchen has only just bothered to inform him that—guess what?—they are out of branzino as well. Two of their three fish dishes gone and it isn’t 6:30 pm yet. And only now do they finally manage to inform their only server that they haven’t got any more. After the appetizer has been served, eaten, and removed? Not an auspicious or impressive start.

Eventually, the LDC’s (second-)choice of jumbo lump blue crab arrives, served on a bed of warm rice noodles with crispy shaved garlic and rice crackers. A “spicy turmeric-coconut curry” is served in a small carafe and she is instructed to pour it in and ensure that she gets a little of everything in each bite. What came was attractive and, LDC assures me, delicious. But she also says that most anyone ordering it (except her) would find the portion to be distinctly too small. She enjoyed the curry sauce and thought there was sufficient crab (of good quality).

I now receive my (second-)choice roasted duck breast: “slow-cooked in clear broth, with shiitake mushrooms, young coconut, confit daikon and cilantro tips.” (It’s only fair to note that the presentation was far more attractive than this rather stark photo suggests.) On the plus side: a generous portion of surprisingly perfect duck. Cooked almost exactly right, melt-in-the-mouth tender. Not a critical peep out of me about the duck…but it would have been nice it the dried shiitake tops had been marinated long enough, though. They were still chewy. The other surprising thing was, considering the generous portion of duck, the accompaniments in the bowl were rather sparse: two pieces of coconut, two mushrooms, and one piece of confit daikon (which, truth be told, was absolutely wonderful: it had soaked up the delicious broth—which was complex and tasted of more than a bit of star anise—and was quite tender).

We ordered pickled mustard greens as a side (something I’ve always associated with Chinese, not Thai, food) and an artful display of it arrived. Good, if very salty. It would have profited enormously by being served with a scoop of plain white rice. On its own it simply didn’t work, good though the effort may have been. It should be noted that rice does not come with their entrees. You can choose between brown rice or coconut rice—no plain white rice—at $4 a pop.

We closed with black sticky rice pudding—somehow coconut cream pie parfait and chocolate mousse didn’t say “Thailand” to us. It is served with “spiced poached pear, salted coconut emulsion, and pandan meringue chips.” I think it’s worth pointing out that the place was now busy—not full, but definitely busy—and it took longer for the kitchen to turn out this dish (the ingredients of which had to be completely prepped and ready to serve) than it did for our entrees to show up. Pandan is a delicate flavor: here it serves more as an attractive display element than a flavor in the dish. Our spiced poached pear tasted very nicely of whatever it was poached in but we needed to ask for a knife and fork to cut it. It might have been ripe, but it was anything but tender. That said, we both enjoyed the sticky rice and found it nicely complemented by the salted coconut emulsion. In fact, it reminded us of a few desserts we had in Bali.
It should be noted that their drink menu is quite upscale—and a bit more ambitious than the restaurant yet seems to warrant. After-dinner, this is probably not the place where I will choose an armagnac or cognac, an amaro or a PX sherry. They also offer a nice selection of $11 drink creations to start as well as a small selection of wines ($8 to $11 per glass/$32 to $44 per bottle). They have as well four or five beers and, though I was initially tempted to follow Tom’s (nr706’s) lead on the Lemon Saison…I changed my mind when my order changed.
Their home page says, “NaKorn started with our belief that authentic Thai food should be found not only in Thailand—but here, as well.” In the event, this seems to us far more wishful thinking than anything else, a point already made in the preceding two posts. We’d echo santander’s opinion: solid, competent, often attractive presentations. Overpriced considering the portion size. There was a nice crowd on a Sunday evening but it would help enormously if they’d hire one more server. And learn how better to estimate their ordering. Moreover, if you’re going to set the price point where it is, consider offering at least some gratis rice…or something. When I have to order rice in a “high-end”—or even a “medium-end” Thai restaurant—pay $4 for it, and then only have two kinds to choose from—I tend not to come away happy. We’re impressed by their aspirations and wish them well, but there are too many things out of synch for us to revisit any time soon.
Gypsy Boy
"I am not a glutton--I am an explorer of food." (Erma Bombeck)