Tom yum soup: Charleston
Pad thai with chicken: Lindy hop
Pad kee mao with tofu: Hot sweet jazz
Located in the bustling center of Broad Ripple, along Westfield Ave. between Bazbeaux and Cafe Patachou, Chiang Mai Thai Noodle is a blissful oasis of delicious food, a quiet atmosphere, and free parking. It has been hands-down my favorite Broad Ripple restaurant since moving north from SoBro a year ago. However, Chiang Mai recently became an enigma.
I’d eaten there several times without you and loved it every time, and we’ve also eaten there several times together with only positive results. But on that fateful night in mid-September, the world turned upside-down. (Albeit the limited world of Broad Ripple Thai eateries, but still.)
I first thought something was awry when we entered the restaurant and were greeted by a young blond man of apparent Germanic descent. I’d never seen him at the restaurant before, so he must have been a recent addition to the staff. I admit that I was surprised by the fact they had a non-Thai employee, but obviously people of other ethnicities can work at Thai restaurants (my white brother-in-law worked at a Thai restaurant in college), so I mentally congratulated the man on breaking down stereotypes as he led us to our table. In my heart I named him Dirk.
We were dining as a foursome that night, joined by my friends Melissa and Jeff. I convinced them both to order pad kee mao, and Dirk noted our orders on a tiny scrap of blue paper in his hand. Through the ordering process, it became apparent that Dirk’s first language was not English, nor was it likely Thai. He seemed to be a man on a cultural island—a dish of sauerkraut in Saigon.
In addition to being a fish out of water on two cultural fronts, it soon became clear that Dirk’s shift at the restaurant was woefully understaffed. He was the sole server for the entire dining room plus the outdoor patio, both of which were full of patrons on a Friday night. He was supported by a single bus girl. As the evening progressed, we watched in admiration as Dirk juggled taking orders, seating new guests, and bringing out food.
I was impressed with Dirk’s supernaturally equanimous demeanor. Not only was he handling the duties you listed above, but he was also working the cash register, washing the dishes, and perhaps handing out mints as the washroom attendant. (If mine eyes and ears did not deceive me, at one point I thought I caught a glimpse of Dirk out the window, rowing a gondola in the canal, clad in classic Venetian gondolier garb, crooning That’s Amore.) The only mistake I saw him make all night was bringing the couple dining next to us two glasses of red wine that they didn’t order.
Unfortunately, the volume of work was too much for Dirk to handle on his own, which led to an understandable decline in service quality. Our tom yum soup, which had been delivered swiftly at all of our other visits, this time never arrived. We didn’t get any water refills until we were all finished eating. And from the time we were done, we waited thirty minutes to get our checks. All of the sudden Dirk appeared and kindly tried to rectify all of these situations at once. He refilled our water glasses. He asked us if we still wanted the soup. Pulling out his little blue slips, he asked us to remind him who ordered what so he could divide the checks correctly.
At this point I was concerned that Dirk would forget our checks and instead bring us all out a glass of wine.
My heart fills with empathy and respect for Dirk. Despite having a long evening of stress ahead of him, he maintained a polite and easygoing air. He was clearly overwhelmed but didn’t get snappy with customers. It wasn’t his fault the restaurant was understaffed, but he resolved to do his best in a bad situation.
We commend you, Dirk, for your cool head in the face of adversity. Your courage and attitude are an inspiration to us all.