Around the World in 80 Dinners - Bill Jamison [69]
Arriving early for our reservation at Mom Tri’s Boathouse, we kill time across the street at the Cool Beach bar, which climbs up a hillside jungle on four small concrete terraces covered with tin roofs, punctured at points to allow palm trees to grow through into the sunlight. Portraits of the king and queen, found in most Thai businesses, hang on the walls of the upper level watching over a full-size pool table, where the women who run the place are currently teaching befuddled male opponents how to handle a cue stick. Bill orders a “Mai Thai,” festooned with orchids, and Cheryl gets a frothy and cooling “SingaPore Sling.” The drinks come with roasted peanuts and a choice of watching BBC TV or listening to Tracy Chapman songs.
The “Mom” in Tri’s name is a title, like “Sir,” rather than a shorthand form of “mother.” His Boathouse restaurant enjoys a long-standing reputation as the best place to eat in Phuket and it sure shows us why. Executive chef Tummanoon Punchun skillfully steers a tough course, offering both classic French and Thai dishes, each prepared to complement the extensive, international selection of wine in the professional cellar. Our first night comes close to perfect as a dining experience, with superb food and wine in an enchanted setting, on a beachfront terrace with a gentle sea breeze and stars winking at us from above.
Cheryl starts with poo cha, deep-fried crab served in the shell with a sweet plum sauce, while Bill goes for gung cha nam pla, a rock lobster salad with a rich fish-sauce dressing laced with thin slices of chile and loaded with garlic and basil. The kitchen seasons both expertly, pumping up the heat in the salad but not so much that it overpowers the wine, a peppery, rustic French Mourvèdre. For main courses, we try tom yam heng, deep-fried garrupa caught just off the shore, and gang phed ped yang, pan-roasted duck breasts with a spicy curry sauce and lychees, which rates in the top ten dishes of our long journey.
Invoking her all-time favorite rationale for dessert—“since everything else was so good”—Cheryl suggests we share something, knowing Bill will leave most of it for her. Because we both want to sample a dish from the French side of the menu, she orders a financier, a warm almond-scented cookie-cake. The kitchen bakes a magnificent version and then takes tropical liberties with the idea, adding pureed fresh pineapple on top, and on the side, a creamy coconut sorbet and bits of luscious starfruit, mango, guava, and mint. An ideal finish for a dreamy meal, we feel like hitchhiking back to our bed on a cloud. Instead, we make a reservation to return tomorrow night.
A lashing rain wakes us the next morning, the last day of the official monsoon season. Brief showers have rolled past Patong earlier in our stay, but this is a black-sky drencher. The man who cleans the pool beside the breakfast restaurant appears bundled for a storm at sea in the north Atlantic, wearing a heavy, hooded, bright blue slicker and rubber boots. Given the dreary prospects for any time in the sun, we linger longer than usual at the breakfast buffet. Our waitress sympathizes about the weather but can’t help pointing out the obvious. “We’re still in our rainy season, after all.”
A half-dozen serving tables offer the same selection each day, an international Who’s Who of morning foods. Lacking anything better to do, we try to guess the guests’ nationalities by their main choices, knowing most of them will stick with favorites from home. “That’s an American couple for sure,” Cheryl says, “because they got cereal first and then an omelet.”
“I bet they’re Scandinavian