Asian cuisine in Paris generally doesn’t come up to scratch in comparison to other major cities outside of Asia – notably New York and London from personal experience. I’ve not had the pleasure of checking out San Francisco or Vancouver but I’m told the Asian cuisine there is equally outstanding. I’m particularly skeptical of any restaurant which advertises that their specialties are Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai and Japanese food. Paris is full of these pan-Asian Jack-of-all-trade restaurants that tend not to offer much of a specialty at all. “Something for everyone” if often nothing much for anyone at all. Just the other day I walked past a Chinese restaurant which advertised their jambon et brie baguettes during lunchtime. Call me a purist, but given the vast quantities of excellent boulangeries in the city where the most iconic image is a Frenchman in a beret on a bike carrying a baguette, why would I buy one from a Chinese restaurant given the Chinese don’t do bread? Having said that though, my parents ran a Chinese takeaway during my youth which also served fish and chips. Back then chips and curry sauce was the avant-garde of fusion food. In spite of this, I tend to stick to Asian restaurants that focus on just one thing.
One of our favourite Thai restaurants is Aloi in St Germain. We tend to go about once a month and the staff are incredibly friendly. One of my fondest memories of Thailand was sipping Singha beer in the bars of Koh Phangan during full moon party (partly because the samsong buckets we had thereafter destroyed most my short term memory but that’s another story). So it is with pleasure that I always start our evenings at Aloi with a nicely chilled bottle of Singha. True to form, Monika always orders a fresh coconut juice, served in the husk to bring back yet more memories of the exotic Thai islands.
The food is consistently good, which is why we always reserve or arrive early. By 8pm the place is packed even on a school-night. We’ve tried a range of the starters and the mixed starter platter is great to share. This consists of mini beef samosas which are crispy and meaty, fried shrimp and squid parcels, Thai spring rolls and the delightful chicken steamed in banana leaf, which is moist and succulent. This is all served on a platter with a pineapple salad mixed with red onion, peppers, mint, chilies and lime juice. The green papaya salad is one of my mouthwatering favourites: crunchy shreds of papaya with spring onion, tomato, and peppers. The sweetness is also balanced well against the spicy chillies and the strong shrimp paste that goes in the dressing along with the lime juice and fish sauce. The soups are good as well: Tom Yam served with a generous helping of tender prawns offer a warm spiciness and a sour edge of lime juice.
The chicken green curry is good but unexceptional. Most importantly the chicken is tender and not overboiled in the sauce as I have experienced in some places. It’s like the Bryan Robson of Thai dishes: a decent, reliable first choice which always does the job even if it never produces any exciting surprises.
The house specialty is the Crying Tiger. I’m not sure why it’s called that, perhaps because it’s good enough to make any killer carnivore shed a tear for just one more mouthful of the tender rare beef slivers served with finely sliced shallots and peppers topped with a tamarind sauce. This is the Lionel Messi of the meal. It’s what we paid the entrance fee for. We remember from the last time how good it was, came expecting more of the same and we weren’t disappointed. A lifetime of finely honed skills ensure that the reality meets the expectation and hype. And not a jambon et brie baguette in sight. If more Pan-Asian restaurants could reach this level I might not be so critical of their concept, but then let’s face it: one Lionel Messi, there’s only one Lionel Messi.
Aloi Thai Restaurant
7 rue des ciseaux,
75006 Paris
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