Ruan Thai: It’s Cheaper than Surin
On three separate occasions prior to my first visit to Ruan Thai, I was fed almost the exact same lines by previous customers: “Oh my God; it’s so good! Much better than Surin, and cheaper, and it’s right across the street!” On my way out, too, I ran into some old acquaintances of mine, and they, too, had something similar to say: “Wasn’t it good? I mean, it just is better than Surin, and it’s right across the Street!”
Surin is the only other Thai restaurant for fifty miles, and it is indeed right across the street, so the comparison is inevitable. I have not been to the Surin across from Ruan Thai, but I have been to the Surin locations in Birmingham on many occasions, and not once did I have a what I would call a poor dining experience. I have had, however, mediocre dining experiences. Experiences much like the one I had at Ruan Thai.
Ruan Thai has resided for over 25 years in a lovely little house on University Boulevard. There is a charming outside dining area in front surrounded by adequate amounts of well-tended shrubbery. Once one enters the restaurant itself, it becomes unfortunately clear that the building is a retooled house, not originally intended to comfortably serve several dozen meals simultaneously. There is a full-sized bar jammed somewhat awkwardly into the living room. This and the other rooms where guests are sat are unideally small and oddly shaped and packed too tightly with tables. Almost all of the tables were empty, and I was thankful for that, because I genuinely do not believe that either patrons or servers would have been able to navigate that restaurant if every chair was filled. As it was, I could see the waitstaff struggling to keep their customers’ meals off the carpet while maneuvering the labyrinth their employer had designed. Generally, it felt loud and crowded and uncomfortable.
The staff was pleasant and prompt and attentive. They asked to refill one of my dinner guest’s beverage without informing her it would incur an extra charge, but my service-related complaints end there.
I ordered Tom Ka Kai, a spicy and sour Thai soup with chicken and coconut milk, and pad ma moung, a sweet and spicy stir-fry dish with shrimp. My guests ordered yellow curry, pineapple fried rice, and pad peow whan (a sweet and sour saute of chicken and various vegetables).
My Tom Ka Kai was excellent. The more prominent flavors were the sour tang of galangal (a Thai herb, a sort of peppery ginger) cut by the smooth, sweet richness of coconut milk. There was the light acidity afforded by kaffir lime leaves. The slightest hint of capsaicin that danced upon my lips. Tender mushrooms plump with broth. And chicken chunks that were far too large for soup and interrupted the soup-eating process. What do I do with this quarter of a chicken breast laying at the bottom of my bowl of soup? Do I remove it with a fork and cut into appropriately sized pieces on a separate plate? Should I just eat the entire oversized piece in one go, damning myself to finishing a soup with almost no chicken? An impossible situation. Additionally, the soup was extremely salty, nearly sickeningly so, and sorely lacking the sour flavor of fish sauce, which is an essential flavor in this dish and much of Thai cuisine.
My pad ma moung was beautifully presented and barely edible. In fact, the plate was so gorgeous and the fumes it gave off so intoxicating, I was halfway through dish before I decided that it was not worth eating. I had been entirely convinced by the presentation and the reputation that this meal would be excellent. By the time I stopped, I felt quite sick. The entree had consisted of bell peppers, onions, carrots, and zucchini all sauteed until they were greasy, textureless blobs, as well as some properly-cooked shrimp. This all sat in large puddle of thin, black, overly salty, overly sweet sauce that polluted every bite.
Frankly, it made me think of a more salty, more sweet “mongolian shrimp” with better veggies. The type of mongolian shrimp dish you might get at that Chinese restaurant down the road. You know the one. The closest Chinese restaurant you found that serves decent food for a decent price that you pick up on the way home. The flavors were extremely similar, alarmingly similar, disappointingly similar, and all of the uniquely Thai flavors were either drowned or absent.
My dinner guests reported many of the same problems with their own meals. There were similar logistical problems: namely, inconveniently large chunks of chicken and pineapple. The pineapple fried rice was served appealingly in a hollowed and halved pineapple, but the serving was deceptively small because the pineapple was not hollowed very deeply. This puzzled me. What purpose does a counterintuitively carved pineapple serve? Is it a cost-saving measure? Surely pineapple isn’t cheaper than fried rice?
The meals, in general, were oversalty and oversweet, and, in the relevant dishes, hurt for the underrepresentation of fish sauce. I know why these changes were made. We all know. It was done for the same reason that there are thousands of Chinese restaurants in America with nearly identical menus. It is done to suit tastes of the locals. I get it. Fish sauce makes your dish smell like feet, and thai chilis are terrifyingly hot, and the taste of galangal is entirely unlike any herb commonly used in Western cuisine. People want familiar tastes. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t wish my pad ma moung smelled like feet and burnt my tongue right from my mouth. Instead, I got a vile, Thai-themed mongolian shrimp.
So here’s my take on Ruan Thai: this restaurant is a Thai-twist on that Chinese restaurant from down the road. You know the one. Ruan Thai’s prices are similar, and the menu caters to a variety of Western tastes. If you are considering some Chinese take out, or even a casual and reasonably priced dine-in meal and have reasonably low expectations, maybe consider Ruan Thai. Just don’t get the pad ma moung.
And eventually, I’ll want some Thai food, and I won’t have any galangal on hand to make my own. My choices will be either Surin or Ruan Thai, and, despite my poor experience, I’ve heard many good things about Ruan Thai. I’ll probably choose Ruan again. I mean, it’s cheaper and, worse case scenario, Surin is just across the street.
Two Stars.