IF THERE'S one thing Leeds’ food scene has in abundance, it’s investor-backed restaurants with bulging finance spreadsheets, splashing cash on prestigious plots and lavish decorations. And that’s not a problem.
The waitress asks if medium is ok. I don’t think the choice is mine to make...
Don’t get me wrong, if I was forced to pick my top five restaurants, the first few out of my mouth would be plucky independents, but I’m not about High Sparrow-esque (of course you watch Game of Thrones) forced austerity, and I don’t begrudge anybody’s right to spend and make money on their endeavours.
The other night I spent a few hours at the opening of such a place. An Ibiza-themed tapas restaurant full of brand-placement opportunities and canapes that reminded me why ecstasy, with its tendency to diminish your appetite, must be so popular in the Balearics. Leaving underwhelmed, underfed, and craving something gutsy and authentic, Thai A Roy Dee was the first place that came to mind.
I’m not so naive that I believe authenticity and enjoyability to be intrinsically linked. I’ve eaten 'authentic' Arepas with the consistency of a damp squash ball, on the other hand I’ve shared intimate moments with pizzas that would have me exiled from Napoli before even a mention of stuffed crusts. Thai A Roy Dee, though, is the kind of place that sits comfortably in the crossover section of the enjoyable/authentic Venn diagram.
At least, most of it does. On past visits when courage veered towards arrogance, I’ve tried to enjoy dishes which turned out too authentic for my farang palate. If the appearance of Century egg isn’t enough to put people off - with the egg white turning into golden jelly and the yolk a deep, bluey green - then the overpowering ammonia should do it. Still though, how many of the usual green curry and fried rice joints do you see putting that on the menu?
Having clocked up a few dozen visits over the past, I had the luxury of knowing exactly what to order for the instant gratification I desired - a great, big pile of Gai Satay (main image); juicy chicken thigh meat billowing up wooden skewers, a slight sweetness of tamarind with a charcoal flavour from the grill.
Pad Thai, meanwhile, is the optimal version of itself; a tangled nest of rice noodles that look too dainty to support their own weight, yet band together heroically when wound around a fork and swabbed into plates of a hot, sour and aromatic Yum Tofu Sord with crisp, puckered parcels of the stuff alongside enough raw onion and ginger to rinse out those sinuses.
The charm of the place - much like many great 'ethnic' restaurants - relies on a lack of attention to the boring stuff such as bearable lighting, matched furniture and grammatically correct menus, with attention focussed, more importantly, on the grub.
Service is prompt and curt. I order Gai Yang with the lamb cooked medium rare. The waitress asks if medium is ok. I don’t think the choice is mine to make. It arrives, cooked medium, on a cast iron platter with beads of a garlicky, dark soy, fishy sauce and plam sugar dancing around as it sizzles.
As usual, we over-order, but even with two starters, two mains and two sides, the total comes in just under £35. Along with the no-frills approach, bills are kept low due to the BYOB policy. It's amazing, the savings that can be paased on to customers, when operators avoid loans for custom-made DJ booths and white velvet banquettes.
There was a year or so when Thai A Roy Dee didn’t have a place to call home, when increased rents on Vicar Lane meant it had to close while looking for a new site. Luckily they found a new plot three doors down from the last and all was well once more. In a city which seems increasingly popular amongst big money ventures, the need for restaurants like Thai A Roy Dee only grows.
Thai A Roy Dee, 120 Vicar Lane, Leeds, LS2 7NL
Meal for 2, including BYOB & service: £48.50
Rating: 14/20
Food 9/10 The menu is huge, and after over thirty visits I’m still not bored.
Atmosphere 2.5/5 All the ambience of a service-station. BYOB helps.
Service 2.5/5 Fast, but I’ve felt more warmth from Deliveroo confirmation emails.