I think they forgot something

As noted previously, Thai food has a fairly small basic ingredient set. Perhaps the most important of these is basil.

The basic stir fry with basil, peppers, onion and meat is called a kra pao, or on English-speaker-friendly menus, ‘Thai basil.’ I always order it because it's my favorite, but because it's a good dish with which to gauge the quality of a Thai restaurant. It allows me to focus on how well it is prepared, rather than wondering what's in it.

Really, I'm doing them a favor. Thai basil should be foolproof.

Thai Herbs (Downtown), a hole in the wall catering to the office worker demographic, manages to get it wrong. On a recent visit I ordered the beef version of Thai basil. What the cook came up with was acceptable lunch fare, but should more properly be labeled 'beef stir fry.'

It contained only 3 or 4 tiny slivers of basil. I've had more basil in dishes that weren't supposed to have basil in them.

A cheap cut of beef is fine, but it has to be sliced thin -- otherwise it takes too long to cook, and comes out tough.

The vegetables were cooked perfectly, sauteed onion and bell pepper, and green beans still crisp. But because they were not overcooked, it doesn't explain the origin of the extra water in the too-thin sauce. I suspect sauce prepared in advance, instead of created in the wok with the rest of the dish.

There are plenty of Thai restaurants in Seattle charging what Thai Herbs charges, yet they deliver a far superior product.

A funny thing happened on the way to the fake cocktail

An odd thing just happened on my way home.

I stopped at the grocery store to pick up lunch fixin's for the rest of the workweek, and on my way to the checkstand I passed the Adult Beverages aisle. I spied with my little eye a single bottle of Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade sitting forlornly by itself, next to all the full sixpacks.

Normally I wouldn't touch these faux malt beverage-based cocktails with a ten meter cattleprod, but it was hot (still is as I write this), and I was thirsty (ibid.). So I slipped it into my sustainable canvas shopping bag.

When the clerk rang up the Mike's, the register started bleeping at her. "Uh oh," she said. "The Rules don't let us sell just one of these. I have to put this back," she explained.

Great, a rule to discourage drinking and prevent impulse-boozing. A bureaucratic end to a long day. Another example of Washington's out of control, irrelevant, Temperance-inspired liquor laws.

The situation lets us expose absurdities of these rules:

1) The rules allow the sale of 5/6 of a sixpack;
2) The rules force the clerk to put back a single so that she then can't sell it to someone else;
3) The rules assume that buying 5/6 of a sixpack is not an impulse-buy and doesn't encourage drinking.

Someone please explain.

Maybe I'm just sensitive, as I was in California over the weekend, where they sell liquor in grocery stores and civilization has not collapsed, the election of Arnold Schwarzenegger notwithstanding.

Next time I'll try buying two bottles, as an experiment. Maybe the State doesn't want the bottles to get lonely.

"Show us your Tat's"

That's what it says on the official t-shirts at Tat's Deli (Pioneer Square), direct all complaints to them.

Since the cheesesteak place in Pike Place closed I've been looking for another joint serving good Philly-style cheesesteaks. Yes, I've tried Philadelphia Fevre (East Madison). But those are not cheesesteaks so much as chipped dried beef-like food product, dipped briefly in warm broth. Sorry, but that's how I feel.

I think I've finally found cheesesteak heaven, and I've seen it's Tat's.

I always get the 8-inch with provolone and hot peppers ($7; you can also get a 12-incher, as well as a t-shirt that announces that preference to the world; again, don't send your complaints to me). It comes on a split french roll, filled with a generous portion of moist, perfectly seasoned beef and peppers mixed in.

The first time I was there, the counter guy tried to talk me into ordering my cheesesteak with ketchup. "It's real goooood," he promised. Don't fall for it! I've been to South Philly, I've had a real South Philly steak sandwich, and you sir are no -- that is, no one ever offered me ketchup. If you want tangy, that's what the peppers are for.

Upgrade to an order of fries and a can of pop for just $2.

Warning: the lunch line is often out the door between 11:30 and 12:30.

Update: Tat's has moved to the Interurban Building on Yesler, across from the Sinking Ship garage.

What's Not in a Name

You don't get to call a billard-theme bar a ‘ristorante.’ Sorry, but it's an Official Rule.