Tamarind Tree has a special place in Seattle's food scene as a sort of Shangri-La. The whole process of reaching this place, which is jammed into a very no-nonsense working class ethnic strip mall. Only after passing by the nail place and the generic grocery store with cases of produce stacked right in front at it's "loading dock" do you enter this magical land with tranquil fountains drowning out the urban decay. You get a tidy, packed dining room with nice lighting and a minimalist decor. The last thing that sets this place apart from other very good asian restaurants is one more detail-it is patronized by more people who are not of Vietnamese heritage than those that are. Tamarind Tree is so hyped because it has great food-interesting, thoughtful, with plenty of small plates of well executed food with shockingly good sauce pairings.
On a recent visit, Tamarind Tree showed that its east meets west approach can also be its Achilles Heel.
I arrived with a friend around 7 on a Tuesday night and was brought to a table fairly quickly, the hostess apologetically saying that she owes me a menu because they don't have enough. Glancing at the next table over, I could see there were 2 menus waiting for members a larger party that had not yet arrived. Even though I have been in this industry forever, I really don't like to bring attention to myself when I eat out, so rather than grabbing the menu that was clearly not occupied, I waited meekly for our server. When he did finally arrive, he wanted to know if he could get me something to drink. "Actually, I would love to have a menu!" He scrambled to find a menu and ended up taking the menu that I had already been eyeing... oh well.
We ended up ordering the mushroom satay, the prawn satay, the grilled la-lot leaf rolls, the crispy prawns baguette, and the bean sprout mushroom. The mushroom satay were great-shiitake mushrooms were marinated in a very worcestershire-like concoction that really adds the fifth flavor that the Japanese describe as umami. The prawns were overcooked, as they tend to be if not watched carefully, but they also came with a sauce that was described as a tamarind fish sauce that was bright and really brought out the seasonings on the prawns.
We continue to enjoy our food and cocktails, but something weird happens. Our server never returns. My companion has been waiting for his Tamartini to arrive, and the rest of our bigger plates don't come.
"I'm not eating that," are the words that I blurt out when the Banh Mi Tom Bot Chien, also called Crispy Prawns Baguette is placed before me. Banh mi is a simple, fresh, even pedestrian food. Some of the best ones are produced by places that only serve one thing - banh mi, with different proteins. A french baguette filled with fresh cilantro, cucumber, jalapeno, other veggies, and a seasoned sauce, it is the opposite of haute cuisine. So when a monstrosity of hunks of baguette topped with one prawn each and then given a tempura-type batter and deep fried, lazily topped with sriracha straight from the bottle (that is the best you can do? I am looking at you too, Toulouse Petit) and some hoisin sauce arrived, I was naturally surprised. It seems the term Crispy Prawn Baguette was not only referring to the prawn being crispy. Banh Mi is a term many people know, and when you see it on a menu, one naturally expects certain things. Perhaps the menu should explain that quite plainly or, even better, remove this awful dish altogether.
In the end, Tamarind Tree ended up missing on all the points that has made it so successful. Eating there is usually a special experience where you feel pampered. Good service comes together with interesting food at a reasonable price. When they fall short on just one of those points, the artifice of the restaurant starts to show. When they fail on both food and service, one quickly starts to wonder why they bothered going there in the first place.
I had a very similar experience there last month. Too bad -- it has always been one of my favorites for a weeknight dinner.
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