Navigating the spicy seas of Thai soup

By Ian Blecher and Darby Saxbe

The Invocation

I sing of soup, and two people eating soup.

The Premise

Sniffly winter calls for chicken soup. But in dreary January the exotic beckons, and homey Jewish penicillin gets tiresome. The antitode to winter colds and winter blahs alike: Tom Kar Gai. This Thai concoction melds the nourishing powers of hot soup with the lure of the tropics, as its steamy-spicy-sweet-sour-creamy-coconutty goodness titillates the taste buds and stirs up the senses. Last Monday night, foregoing our usual trip to the dining hall--and the ensuing drowning of sorrows in Mylanta--we embarked upon a quest to find the New Haven's best Tom Kar Gai. We found the whole of New Haven too daunting, however, and stuck to Chapel Street. That gave us five Thai restaurants to choose from, and we intrepidly sampled one bowl of soup's most delicious incarnation at each one. Foolhardy, you say? You obviously haven't tasted the steamy-spicy-sweet-sour-creamy-coconutty nectar about which Napoleon once quipped, "I'd take over Europe for it."

The Paradigm

Good Tom Kar Gai can't be characterized by a single ingredient. The standard version contains coconut milk, chicken, mushrooms, coriander, green onions, lime juice, and lemongrass. Some chefs tickle the palate with tomatoes, ginger, and hot pepper, while others strive for the sweet, smooth, and soothing. Regardless, the chicken must be well marinated in the broth, the ingredients ought to be chopped finely enough to be thoroughly incorporated, and the soupy base should be rich and creamy enough to balance the other flavors. The idea behind all of these principles is to abnegate all of the ingredients and create a seamless blend; it should be hard to decipher a sip of Tom Kar Gai. The buttery coconut milk background is not only the secret to great taste, but also the secret to short life: the soup is just festering with cholesterol. Better to live decadently than an extra decade, we always say.

The Odyssey

Mindful of our rapidly diminishing life spans, we hurried to the often overlooked Indochine Pavilion, at the corner of Park and Chapel. In a matter of minutes, $2.15 and a bemused waiter got us a steamy bowl of what's listed as "Coconut Soup." This Tom Kar Gai deviated shockingly from our paradigm, with reds and oranges which disturbed the placid white and green we'd expected. The ingredients floated in a yellow, buttery broth which, while a bit thin, kept them from being smothered. Not that smothering was much of a danger; the soup positively frolicked with whole mushrooms, big chunks of chicken, tomatoes, green onions, and coriander. Spicy chili peppers and piquant stalks of lemongrass added unexpected drama. The soup had its flaws, however. The tomatoes were mushy, the under-marinated chicken could have stood up and balked, and the mushrooms, green onions, and lemongrass needed a good chopping. The soup, with all its discordant flavors, over stimulated--much like the restaurant's decor, which verged on the gaudy. We both agreed, however, that it was a flavorful assay, and concluded that the Pavillion's Tom Kar Gai was the night's most exciting soup.

Oh dear. That's the most exciting this article gets? Yup. But just think; most of you are probably reading this at your dining hall--so try, if you can, to imagine someone enjoying his or her food. That was actually us, that Monday night.

Upon learning that Tom Kar Gai was not on the menu at the Bulldog Eatery, we sang a fight song and made our way east down Chapel to our next stop.

Pad Thai

Although no Party of the Righters were partying at Pad Thai that night, they should have been: the soup there was a traditionalist's delight. Pure white, with islands of mushrooms and scallions, it was thicker and sweeter than the Pavillion's version. One surprise: slices of stringy ginger, which tickled us in a way only Gilligan had before. Though the broth verged on cloying, it was dotted with tomatoes and shifted subtly from sweet to sour; the ingredients merged more smoothly than they had in our last bowl of soup. The chicken, however, was a little too well-done and didn't taste of broth, and kept us chewing. At $2.14 for a generous bowlfull, however, Pad Thai's Tom Kar Gai was the night's cheapest deal. Fittingly, the restaurant sported a casual, studenty atmosphere, with California pink-and-green decor and travel posters on the walls. Pad Thai even provided fortune cookies! "A father's joy is a wise son." Hmmmm.

Asian House

We waddled over to Asian House, one of the evening's Tom Kar Gai highlights. Their version of "chicken coconut milk soup smothered with galanga and lime juice," oozed rich, buttery decadence. Opaque with cream, swirly with globs of coconut milk, the soup stuck to our arteries and warmed our hearts. We agreed that, were there such a word as "smoothered," it would describe the dish pretty well. A surfeit of lime juice offset its richness, however, and the sliced mushrooms floating on its surface looked like they were past their prime. The flavor was more creamy than complex. Still, the chicken almost melted at its edges with marinated tenderness, and the broth slid slippily down our throats as we marvelled at the red glow exuding from the restaurant's fake fireplace. Ah. Those not so addicted to luxury as we would have found the soup too rich or sour. Luckily, we have expensive tastes. And the Herald was paying for it, all $2.65 of it.

Bangkok Gardens

We were older and wiser by the time we got to Bangkok Gardens, and we'd learned something about Tom Kar Gai, too: three bowls of it on an empty stomach can make one a little queasy. Still, we had high hopes for the New Haven Advocate's official New Haven Advocate Certificate winner. The glass alcove in which we sat, enjoying dim lighting and music far more tasteful than the R&B of Asian House and the Musaked "The Greatest Love of All" of Pad Thai, confirmed our expectations. The soup, however, left something to be desired. A paltry shaving of scallions and coriander and a paucity of mushrooms and chicken made the bowl boring. Still, the broth was nice and buttery, though it lacked Asian House's richness. Its flavors were well-balanced too, although we had some trouble keeping our balance after our fourth bowl of soup. Spiciness predominated at the Indochine Pavilion, sweetness at Pad Thai, sourness at the Asian House, but the Bangkok Gardens version, delightfully non-descript, maintained equanimity between its ingredients.

Thai Taste

Thai Taste, formerly known as Siam Square, is closed on Mondays, so our soup voyage was suspended 'till the next day. The wait was probably a good idea, for we approached our last bowl of Tom Kar Gai with fresh tastebuds and spanking new attitudes. We also had appetites, and so weren't dissuaded by the soup's rich broth. Globules of oil floated on its surface, making it nearly as creamy as the Asian House version. The broth was more salty than sweet, with a chicken-soupy sour cream taste enhanced by plenty of scallions. The other ingredients were scant, though, with just a leaf or two of coriander and no mushrooms at all. We didn't need mushrooms, though, with the restaurant's wacky decor keeping us excited. A cross between a '50s bar and a Thai flea market, the dining room sported a neon clock, a display of residential college eschucheons, a pair of oars, and a stagnant fountain adorned with shells and rocks. Remarkably, the knick-knacks were tastefully arranged, and charming touches like rabbit- and duck-shaped napkin rings gave Thai Taste the nicest atmosphere of any of its compatriots.

The Conclusion

Five restaurants, five bowls of soup, two full and slighty nauseated folks. No clear-cut conclusion, however: while the Tom Kar Gais were all different, they were also all good. Since we can't recommend any one version, we'd like to recommend all of them. Sample the soups and draw your own conclusions.

Epilogue

True bargain hunters should know that the Yale Co-op carries canned Tom Kar Gai, from a company suspiciously called "Taste of Thailand." Be advised: don't try it.

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