PAOLINA THAI CAFE: LUNCH IN KING'S CROSS

A quick lunch today, after a couple of very productive meetings found me joining my chum, Susan for lunch in King’s Cross. There are precious few restaurants of any worth in that area (and no, Konstam is not one of them)but she assured me that she knew just the place for us to sit in peace and quiet.

I had my doubts as she led me past the station and towards the Pentonville Road and even more when she stopped in front of a small café with a peeling yellow frontage, a battered awning over the entrance and a dilapidated sign reading “Paolina Thai Café”

Once inside the décor suggested that little had changed since the place opened, originally, I would imagine from the name, as a greasy spoon with Italian ownership. One of the "new" incumbents, an elderly Thai lady, drew our attention to a laminated menu pinned to the wall.

“You choose, tell me, pay later”

The menu listed twenty dishes, not one over £6. We chose quickly, gave our order as instructed and then descended to a small basement dining room where two other tables were occupied.

The food came quickly. Squid rings were a decent starter, freshly fried and crisp and served with a sour sweet dipping sauce, a pleasant diversion as we continued with our conversation and waited for the main courses, which also arrived in rapid fashion.

Susan’s Prawn Pad Thai was probably the better of the two with plenty of noodles steaming from their brief stint in the wok and just enough seafood to justify the name the dish had been given. Less so my own choice, a daily special of Chicken Massaman curry, which while it tasted the part with of hints of tamarind and fish sauce needed more gravy and indeed chicken to stop it becoming just a stir-fry with potatoes.

Other tables seemed to have made better choices and the soups in particular looked well worth returning for. In any case, a bill that only just managed to approach £15 for the two of us including a drink seemed reasonable value for hearty portions of freshly prepared food and definitely marks Paolina Thai Café worth noting as an interesting place for lunch the next time I am in King’s Cross.

HERMANO SEGUNDO LOST IN LA LA LAND: DAY TEN

Tuk-Tuk is just a neighbourhood Thai restaurant, but it is the sort of Thai restaurant that I wouldn’t mind having in my neighbourhood.

We both woke up a little jaded the morning after our blow out at Providence and persuading ourselves reluctantly that noon was late enough for us to lounge around, Sybil drove the few short blocks to her favourite little Thai joint for us to have a restorative lunch.

Tom Yum soup immediately hit the spot with its plump shrimp, shreds of chicken and classic hot and sour flavours. The Bengali boy in me craved a bit of extra spice, so I spooned fresh chilli into my bowl to take it up a level and the combination began to perk up my overwrought palate straight away.

More solid dishes followed. Spring rolls were a little doughy, but deep fried, too, helps combat the consequences of the night before, I find and I ate mine and Sybil’s fair share, while she tucked into her own favourite, chilli, crab noodles. Only a bowl of red curry let the side down with the duck tasting like it had been cooked the day before and the presence of enough pineapple for Carmen Miranda to make a nice headdress.

Still, for a little over £15 a head, it was a perfect way to kick start the day and, to be honest, we would have left it at that had we not already made plans to join two of Sybil’s friends at a great L.A institution, Mastro’s Steakhouse, for supper.

There is nothing on earth to compare to a great American Steakhouse, the wood panelled walls, the clubby atmosphere, the chintzy music, the unfeasibly large wine lists and, of course, the equally unfeasibly large chunks of flesh.

Mastro’s ticks all the buttons and the tinkle of the piano player’s efforts hits your ear the moment you enter through the door “remember, folks, be good to your parents, they’ve been good to you”

My companions have a different take on eating here than many, eschewing starters in favour of diving headlong into a wide variety of Mastro’s famous and gargantuan side dishes. So, for once, after choosing my steak, an 18oz Bone in Kansas Strip, I left the ordering to them. They were right when they warned me not to fill up on bread as the table was covered with enormo portions of spinach, sauteed mushrooms, lobster mash potatoes, onion rings and Mac & Cheese.

To be honest, I was less impressed with these than the ladies who dived in with noises I seldom hear from women when in my company and the love of Mac & Cheese in particular remains a great American mystery for me. The steak however was perfect and perfectly cooked with a crisp char and a rare centre.

It is not a cheap option, your average steakhouse and, after some desserts which substituted size for taste, we wandered out of there the best part of $100 each poorer but with enough left overs, beautifully packaged, for another couple of meals.

My night’s dreams were an odd combination induced by chilli, red curry and chunks of digesting beef. Many involved Natalie Portman, If only I could remember them.