Thai House

Louden Wainwright III wrote a good song about dining out on your own, called ‘I Eat Out’, in which the Mister Sad Person of the lyrics instructs the waiters “Never mind the menu, take away the candle, forget about the aperitif”; getting to the nub of the matter in noting that people who dine in restaurants alone do not do so through choice.
Who does dine out solo? After due consideration I’ve come to the conclusion that there are three distinct groups. What you might call Category A comprises those who, with graphic exactitude, used to be called ‘commercial travellers’, later ‘representatives’. Nowadays, they have a grandiose job title invariably ending in ‘Consultant’. Category B is the dwindling body of unattached flat-dwellers for whom even Anthony Worrall-Thompson is a roux too far. The final body, Category C, consists of those whose Significant Other, for whatever reason, has assumed insignificance, perhaps the recently bereaved, but most likely those who have carelessly lost or wilfully discarded a partner.
When such a relationship breaks up there is always someone left sitting at the dining table alone, observed only by dog, cat or goldfish, eyes full of reproof. At such times cooking is not a chore; it is a penance. The only sane alternative is to eat out. But in such circumstances you do not don your glad rags and head, bold as brass, for the uptown bistro where once you and your S.O. held hands under the table. Oh no. You seek out some greasy-tableclothed gaff in an irredeemable suburb where the only certainty is you will not bump into your ex, or any mutual friends.
Ever tried booking a table for one? It’s impossible over the phone and difficult to achieve even when you are standing on the threshold of a restaurant as under-populated as the Mountains of the Moon. Even supposing the maitre d’ accepts the proffered tenner and lets you in, the bad times are not over. The waiters huddle in threes, point at you and whisper. It doesn’t take an MA in lip-reading to make out the phrase “Ha, ha, look at Billy No Mates.” So when my reviewing companion cried off a couple of hours before the hors d’oeuvres, the hurtful memories came flooding back.
In the event I needn’t have worried. The people at Thai House in Dalkey couldn’t have been nicer. “Table for one, no problem?” And they meant it.
They do talk a lot of tosh about Thailand. Say “Give us a grin?” to a Padpong bouncer or a peddler bent on flogging you a fake Rolex, you’ll find ‘Land of Smiles’ is as redundant a slogan as ‘Ireland of The Thousand Welcomes’. Yet there is something in it. Here, the beautiful Thai girls waiting tables could make a even a misanthropic hermit feel a bit special. The smiles are genuine, the demeanour, eager to please without lapsing into familiarity. What’s more, food and drink is brought to your table with such gliding grace; Celts, lumpish by comparison, and at least one flat-footed Saxon were agog at their poise and panache.
I liked the food too. I suppose there has to be an element of fire fighting to quench the spontaneous combustion occurring when Thai flavours engulf Western palates, but this was by no means a drenching. The clandestine slices of chilli in my salad starter were sparky enough; and it was still possible to relish the sea flavours and harbour aromas of prawn and scallop through the heat.
The bowl of tom yam gung, the Thais’ signature prawn-and-fireworks soup, was exactly as I’d had it in Bangkok and in London’s Nahm (always my benchmark for out-of-Thailand Thai) which is to say superb. However, I could have done with three times the quantity of liquid to make it my companion throughout the meal in the Thai fashion. I sometimes feel that the culinary styles of other regions are done no favours by straight-jacketing them into the West European starter-main-dessert formula.
In the main, the clientele would best be described as ‘bohemian genteel’ – ponytail and expensive sweater-in-need-of-darning were de rigueur for the Dalkey male; their ladies wore white, cream or pale beige dresses, perhaps mama’s Summer of Love kaftans, well-bleached and cherished. All-in-all, a clutch of decent liberal-minded Renaissance people of the sort who, in my early years in Ireland, would have been designated ‘Dublin 4’. That desirable soubriquet has, alas, been carpetbagged; nowadays it just means ‘well-heeled’, a great shame.
The red duck curry was terrific except for it wasn’t as advertised. The menu said ‘with pea aubergines’ and I found no trace of them, plenty of courgettes, though. My enquiry resulted in the waitress summoning Tony Ecock, the proprietor, who confirmed her opinion that the market hadn’t been able to supply that morning causing the chef, a stickler for things fresh and tasty, to make the substitution. I would have preferred aubergines as they tend to take up the flavours of any sauce they are cooked in, whereas the courgettes lent a certain sweetness to the dish, striking a tiny discord. Still, fresh is best.
A word on wine. As you might expect from an enthusiast proprietor with a brace of brothers in the biz, the list is interesting. That decent Chilean producer Cousino Macul, long associated with the Ecock family is well represented. If you can afford to go for Grange or Ornellaia they’re on there. If you want a choice of a half dozen or more very drinkable wines for under e20, that’s also an option. I dithered briefly over Petaluma Clare Valley Riesling 2001 (e30) and hovered over my favourite Sauvignon Blanc, Springfield Estate Special Cuvée 2003 (e30) before settling for another Sauvignon Blanc, Isabel 2003 (e35) from Marlborough, a choice I didn’t regret as the spices in the food softened the green gooseberry edge while teasing out subtle nuances that, appropriately, included lemongrass.
I should not leave Thai House without mentioning the especially reasonable Early Bird menu, three courses for e19. If every restaurant played fair in this way there would be no need for value initiatives. I should also come clean and admit, that, in the tradition of solace-seeking soluses, I spoiled myself utterly and consider the e73 (including two good espressi) money well spent.

Thai House, 21 Railway Road, Dalkey, Co Dublin Tel: (01) 284 7304
Opening hours: Dinner daily 5-11pm; Early Bird: Mon-Thurs.