December 4, 2002

Being there

CRAWDAD WAS STANDING up and staring into a part of the restaurant we weren't sitting in. We were sitting in the section we were sitting in, and then there was another section, slightly higher up, so that you couldn't see it from our table unless you stood and looked over the railing. Which is exactly what Crawdad was doing, mesmerized.

I was mesmerized by something else: the menu. Lotta good-looking stuff at Asian Thai Noodles, way the hell out in the northwest corner of the Sunset, Lincoln and 48th Avenue. "Original Thai Food," the sign outside the place says. Inside it was nice and cozy – small in spite of the split-level seating. There's nice woodwork, antique furniture, mirrors, and fancy plates on the wall, yet the ones on the menu were all well under 10 bucks, except for seafood. I was looking at the noodle section, something like "special rice noodles" with crispy pork, boiled pork, tofu, and a hard-boiled egg in "special soup." Six-something, if I remember right. I'd have to do something about the tofu, but ... two kinds of pork!

I looked up from the menu and said, "Crawdad, what are you doing?" She was just standing there, looking over the railing. It was a funky time of day, and I didn't think anyone else was in the place but us.

"I want to be there," she said, dreamily.

I thought she meant the other section, sitting in it, but it turned out she was looking at a wall mural. I hadn't seen it until then, when I stood up to see where she wanted to be. It was a beautiful beachy sceneful of palm trees and blue skies and lazy white clouds, sand, sunshine, water, mountains in the background. I know it was supposed to represent the general loveliness of Thailand, but I thought: Trinidad. And, of course, I wanted to be there too.

But first we had to eat.

"What are you going to get?" I said, drawing her back to reality, which in this case was fairly accurately represented by a plastic-coated menu in the northwest corner of the Sunset, San Francisco.

She sat back down and decided on one of the lunch specials, the one with a fresh roll, a salad, and garlic chicken, except she borrowed spicy chicken with fresh basil leaves from another lunch special instead. In any case, it was six-something too, if I remember right, and it also came with tom yum chicken soup and rice, as did all the lunch specials. And how's this for a generous interpretation of lunchtime: 11 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. every day, even apparently on weekends. (This was a Sunday.)

I got what I said I was going to get, the two-kinds-of-pork "special" soup, only without tofu. Everything about this soup was excellent, starting with the two kinds of pork. I'd expected the crispy pork to be good, since the best way to get pork crispy is to fry it. But the boiled was even better: big pieces of tear-away tender and juicy pork – and if you think that soup meat is never not juicy, then you've never tried my infamous third-time-ain't-no-charm barbecued fried chicken soup. But that's another story.

The soup story, this one, is a happy one also on account of the noodles. Rice noodles, and what was "special" about them was that they were rolled up like rolling papers, which not only made them possible to eat with a spoon, but also made them hold onto broth like no noodle noodle ever would.

So ... two bellies up (or three cheers, or whatever) for the special noodles and for the dark, delicious broth, the "special soup." But as good as all that was, and as good as what Crawdad was eating was, best as I could tell (I helped knock off the spicy chicken part of it, and it was great), my favorite part of the meal was what we were talking about while eating it.

I turn 40 in May. Crawdad graduates from grad school in June. We got to talking about how to celebrate this all. I was just about to suggest what I always suggest – Gravy's – but then I remembered the mural, how Crawdad had said, "I want to be there," and how, instead of Thailand, I saw Trinidad.

"Trinidad!" I said, jumping up. The mural was still there.

"Trinidad," Crawdad agreed.

And thus was it decided: the land of the sea and the sun, the land of the hummingbird, the birthplace of steel drum, and the home of calypso music. Now ... if I can only stay alive for six more months, and make some money, and get over my fear of flying, because you can't get there by van, I'm told.
Asian Thai Noodles. 4621 Lincoln Way (at 48th Ave.), S.F. (415) 681-9333. Sun.-Thurs., 11 a.m.-11:30 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 11 a.m.-1 a.m. Takeout and delivery available. Beer and wine. MasterCard, Visa. Wheelchair accessible.