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It isn’t unusual for restaurant owners who’ve found achievement in haute cuisine to direct their sights toward the quick-service sector. It’s generally understood that operating a dining establishment is a dependable route to financial losses; if wealth is your goal, overseeing numerous eateries is the way forward. Consider Shake Shack, as an illustration, which commenced as Danny Meyer’s solitary, nostalgia-fueled hot-dog stall, and currently populates retail centers and roadside plazas globally. New York harbors recollections of once-venerated chain restaurants—do you recall Tom Colicchio’s outstanding ’wichcraft? Anita Lo’s lively Rickshaw Dumpling Bar? Mark Ladner’s somewhat puzzling Pasta Flyer? Many others remain vibrant, some with greater promise than others: Rowdy Rooster, vendor of spicy chicken sandwiches from the Unapologetic Foods collective, is thrillingly intense; Esse Taco, from celebrated chef Enrique Olvera, is dull and somewhat disappointing.
Chicken fingers are available either pan-fried or flame-broiled. A wide assortment of condiments are offered.
Mommy Pai’s, the newest project from the brains at Thai Diner and the defunct Uncle Boons, gives the impression of tracking this trajectory—at least theoretically. Launched in August, nearby to Thai Diner, it’s a chicken-finger locale, solely for takeaway, featuring a distinct gastronomic viewpoint (forceful, vigorous Thai tastes) alongside captivating visual elements. The central idea grew from functional limitations. The establishment is nestled in a compact shop that the proprietors of Thai Diner, spouses Ann Redding and Matt Danzer, have utilized for approximately a decade. Throughout the years, it has been employed variously as an American-influenced lunch spot, a derivation of Uncle Boons, and, more recently, a central kitchen for sweets. The area is both slim and superficial, boasting absurdly restrained dining space, and with Mommy Pai’s, Redding and Danzer have conceived a resolution both effective and inventive: they’ve eliminated the dining zone entirely. Mommy Pai’s consists solely of the shop, offering a portal for ordering and a service window for collecting orders upon completion. An outdoor dining structure positioned on the street, featuring a small quantity of seats and a countertop along the edge, affords patrons an approximation of eating on the premises, at least during favorable weather.
Nevertheless, what Mommy Pai’s may lack in physical space, it compensates for with unadulterated visual vibrancy. The exterior, conceived by Redding’s sibling, May Redding, is a cascade of surfaces, minutiae, and playful allusions, styled with the same Thai-meets-rococo aesthetic that imparts Thai Diner with such an immersive and enjoyable atmosphere. The storefront showcases timber framing, a glass-block wall, and hammered-metal cloud forms (crafted by artisans at the Silver Temple in Chiang Mai) emanating from a peaked ornamental facade. The menu, displayed on an LCD panel embedded in the exterior, is as enchanting as an artistic exhibit. Functionally, it’s slightly less inviting. The selection of meals and sauces and combinations edges toward overwhelming; these are presented in an assortment of fonts and hues, emphasized by erratic photographic animations—a gesturing hand displaying a soft-serve cone, slender digits adorned with brass nail extensions employed in the traditional Thai dance, Fawn Leb. Mommy Pai herself—Redding’s mother, Ampai Redding, an endearing figure—is shown wearing striking crimson lipstick, smiling genially, her head moving in a continuous gesture of invitation.
I’m not entirely confident that I was able to fully utilize the various combo-meal possibilities, yet, as with Thai Diner, the disarray is integral to the appeal. In the event that you feel disoriented, there are marginally more coherent printed menus nearby the payment station. I will endeavor to analyze the offerings. The chicken tenders, carved from the thigh, are presented either fried or flame-broiled, with a choice of diverse marinades. A collection of eight dipping sauces can be purchased on the side. A selection of sandwiches are available, including a chicken burger, all served on soft potato rolls. A broad collection of side dishes are available as well, some of which seem like appetizers, but since when does a quick-service takeaway feature appetizers, and anyway, what distinction is there?
For refreshment, there are tropical iced beverages; for the final course, a Thai-tea-and-condensed-milk soft-serve blend.
An advantage of the menu’s labyrinthine nature is that each excursion presents a chance to discover something novel. Certain side dishes are sufficiently exceptional to warrant their own culinary destinations, such as the pliable garlic-chive-and-tapioca dumplings, which are intensely verdant and accompanied by a sharp, spicy soy-chili dipping reduction. The Filet O’Tofu sandwich would be enough to bring a fast-food concept developer to tears. It showcases an extraordinarily airy and crisp segment of tofu adorned vividly with nam prik noom (crushed shallots, garlic, and verdant chilies), mayonnaise, pickled cucumbers, and aromatic herbs, beneath an alluring stratum of melted American cheese. The Singha sparkling water, produced by the Thai beer conglomerate, is packaged in charmingly rounded bottles. A portion of miniature quail eggs are colored a profound, regal magenta with hibiscus and soy sauce. The sole item that perhaps I wish I hadn’t experienced were the curry-puff-influenced mozzarella sticks, which were a bland, under-seasoned deviation.
The Filet O’Tofu sandwich is layered with herbs, mayonnaise, American-style cheese, and the Thai condiment known as nam prik noom.
As an aside, the chicken is excellent. My preferred options are the coconut pan-fried tenders, distinguished by their ruggedness and intense crispness, accompanied by a subtle coconut sweetness, and the Muay Thai—grilled tenders marinated in spices, characterized by tenderness and garlic notes, along with a sulfuric trace of white pepper. Nonetheless, I found myself most captivated by the various sauces, specifically the Noom Spicy Green Sauce, an interpretation of nam prik noom boasting the viscosity of marmalade and a sour lime flavor; the lusciously creamy Phuket Island Sauce, a reimagining of Thousand Island dressing with hints of pickled green peppercorns and galangal; and the tamarind-sharp Crying Tiger sauce, which I relished irrespective of the menu’s inflated pledge that it’s SPICY. (It’s merely somewhat spicy.) I believe I could derive immense satisfaction from just a portion of fried potatoes, a few plastic ramekins filled with dipping sauces, and a slushy drink infused with tropical fruit flavors. One of four tropical slushies available, it’s both invigorating and saccharine, yet also surprisingly briny, similar to a piece of fruit having been dunked in the ocean. Return to the shop for a Thai-tea-and-condensed-milk soft-serve swirl to keep you occupied on the walk back to the metro.
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The overall impression of Mommy Pai’s is one of profound personalization, careful crafting, and detailed refinement, such that the notion of quick-service proliferation appears strikingly improbable. Redding and Danzer have, currently, articulated only measured aspirations for amplification—local deliveries have just commenced, and expanded operational hours are approaching imminently—and, during an era when numerous establishments appear to grow ceaselessly until almost no vitality is left within the venture, their moderation seems practically revolutionary. However, I find myself unable to dismiss visions of Mommy Pai’s ascending to global status: Thai-influenced chicken fingers adorning every air terminal and baseball arena throughout the U.S.! Salty pineapple-basil iced beverages and green-cabbage som tum slaw available from the drive-thru! Were the couple to one day introduce their chicken tenders to outer space, rendering Mommy Pai’s welcoming visage as universally familiar as Wendy’s or the Colonel’s, we shall regard this diminutive Mott Street shop with the same wistful sentiment that we reserve for the inaugural Shake Shack, situated modestly amidst the verdant surroundings of Madison Square Park: a vestige of both intimacy and drive, an homage to the somewhat unsettling proposition that, executed correctly, quick service cuisine can embody art. ♦
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Sourse: newyorker.com
