I have worked at Typhoon, a Thai Restaurant on Main Street in Middletown, Conn. most weekends since my freshman year. Often, customers and friends ask me for my recommendations. For the first two years, I did not develop any preferences because I was willing to eat anything that wasn’t campus food. However, once I started cooking in my dorm during junior year, I began to develop a set of preferences.
I don’t like when people use the term “authentic” when they ask me to give suggestions. The word “authentic” has become my pet peeve. What makes a dish authentic? Is it the cooking style? The ingredients? Who is cooking them? Or is it the end product that tastes “how it would” in Thailand? Would you be upset if you knew that a chef in your favorite Thai restaurant is Chinese or American?
As someone who cooks, I see myself creating and recreating dishes that are inspired by dishes from restaurants, my own childhood, or the media. Although, even as someone of Thai heritage, I still can’t call everything that I make authentic. I’m still a hypocrite, as sometimes I still try my very best to cook a dish that approximates how it would taste at home. For example, I refuse to learn how to use a microwave to make sticky rice, a practice which would allow me to save time and money. Instead, I use a sticky rice cooking pot and a bamboo basket that I bought at Adong, an Asian market in Hartford, Conn. I do this in order to imbue my sticky rice with a bamboo fragrance. Basically, I still follow, whenever I can, the “traditional” way of cooking food.
In the United States, I have worked in three Thai restaurants and have visited many others. Whether in the Midwest, the East Coast, or the West Cost, I have always made sure to visit at least one Thai restaurant. From these visits, I have begun to notice particular commonalities. Most restaurants are better at making certain dishes over others. In addition, some Thai restaurants care more than others about the process through which they prepare and present their food. Within these parameters, I believe Typhoon is attentive to its food, and possesses particular specialities.
I would like to end this article, my last article for The Argus, by writing about my favorite dishes at Typhoon. I should start by saying that I don’t like their pad thai or drunken noodles because they are too bland for me. Another warning: Most of the dishes that I like are pricey, although I think that they are worth it.
I often choose dishes that I can’t cook at home, which eliminates more than half of the menu. I love their deep-fried dishes, such as fried eggplant with basil-garlic sauce, fried whole red snapper topped with garlic or curry sauce, and fried pork spare ribs. In the United States, people compete for good ribs that fall off the bone right when you bite; but at Typhoon, the fun part is when you have to use your jaw muscle to pull off the meat. The layers of the fish and the eggplant are crispy, and the inside is perfectly cooked and soft.
I also love their papaya salad (som-tum) with Thai style barbeque chicken, which is served with sticky rice, steamed green mussels, and E-san sausage. The E-san sausage at Typhoon is not like any sausage you would get at a super market, a butcher shop, or even from frozen packages from Thailand. E-san sausage at Typhoon superbly combines fresh Italian herb, like fennel, which is commonly used in Italians sausage with a combination of customary Thai herbs. At Typhoon, they clean the mussels thoroughly, so there is no need to worry about dirt or sand when you chew them. They steam the mussels in a clay pot on an open-fire stove with flavorful herbs like Thai basil and kiffer lime leaf, which, in my opinion, are the best herbs on earth.
Next time you visit Typhoon, give these dishes a shot if you’re in the mood for something a bit unconventional.
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