Dating sexy thais
Creamy, smoky, spicy abb ong oor is pork brain seasoned with turmeric, chile, and lemongrass, then grilled in a banana leaf.
As for the tail, you can find it in leng zabb, which features hunks of slow-cooked pork spine looming above a bright broth that balances the acidity of fresh lime juice with the funkiness of fish sauce and the herby spiciness of green bird’s eye chiles, minced garlic, and cilantro.
If the food of Isan, Thailand’s largest and most northeastern region, has become well-represented in New York, we could use more from the south, where it tends to be very, very spicy, thrillingly and complexly so.
Kitchen 79, on the border of Jackson Heights and Elmhurst and decorated a bit like a tidy, high-end nightclub (lots of black-and-white leather and glitzy light fixtures), is an excellent place to retrain your palate by familiarizing yourself with classics like gaeng tai pla — a deeply fishy, insanely fiery (not for everyone, but catnip for some) mackerel-based curry bobbing with curls of shrimp, tender cubes of pumpkin, and half-globes of barely crunchy Thai eggplant.
Sripraphai has come a long way since its early days as the no-frills holy grail of New York Thai food.
Expansions and renovations have brought a beautiful patio out back, replete with burbling fountain and leafy apple tree, and actual (if not -worthy) décor.
Crispy fried catfish, fiery beef panang, and minced pork with chiles, peanuts, and lemon juice are as good as ever. Like Sripraphai, Ayada has grown from humble origins – first expanding into the space next door, and then spawning a Chelsea Market outpost slated to open this summer.
In the beginning, there was Sripraphai, a Woodside mecca for those craving the aromatic, pungent, frequently torrid flavors of real Thai food.
But over the years, the field has grown crowded; nowadays even Manhattanites trip over first-rate larb in their own backyards.
At first you think that the entire dining room has a cold.
But then you notice that the dazed expressions, pervasive eye-tearing, and rampant nose-blowing are accompanied by the telltale flush and trickle of perspiration that can only signify serious, wanton capsaicin consumption. It’s also the domain of chef Sirichai Sreparplarn, who first won a following at Red Hook’s short-lived Kao Soy and Chiang Mai.