I’ve been told that carpeting patterns in casinos are meant to be disorienting. Not only do the elaborately hideous murals lining the floors of Las Vegas make it harder to notice the stains of drinks tipped past, they guide the attention of casino guests away from any kind of aesthetic ruminations and straight to the clarity of the coin. It’s a fitting dynamic for the city of sin. One hand of Las Vegas shakes down your senses with an absurdly glorious mashup of amusement park sensibilities and unabashed sleaze. The other shakes down your wallet with the great lie of fortune. Somewhere between the motions, the American soul hitches a ride and hopes for a soft landing.

When I stepped out of the car in Vegas at high noon, I had another kind of sensory overload in mind. For months the bookhouse boys and I had been planning a sojourn to two of the city’s lesser known hallmarks, and our hotel reservations placed us within walking distance of the primary target: the best Thai restaurant in North America. Since every member of the crew was fatigued either from a four hour drive or a 5:00 am flight, we spent an hour sprawled across our hotel rooms before making a trek through paved desert winds to a stuccoed oasis of curried delight.

Tucked into a gargantuan plot of faceless asphalt in the northeast corner of the Vegas Strip area, Lotus of Siam has been attracting Thai food pilgrims for years. The calm that ensconces the nondescript strip mall building and the unassuming decor within provide a stark contrast to the unceasing, unblinking movement of Las Vegas Boulevard. Like every great Thai restaurant I’ve had the pleasure of visiting, Lotus of Siam makes no attempt to distract its diners from the brilliance of its food. There is the confusing exception of a middling lunch buffet in the center of the dining room, but I suppose anyone who walks through these doors worried more about the buck than the bang deserves all the steam trays this city has to offer.

Lotus of Siam’s humble design, also like that of every great Thai restaurant, betrays the wonderfully shocking flavors of its dishes. One spoonful of head chef Saipin Chutima’s Nam Kao Tod doesn’t begin to do justice to the word. Explained modestly as “minced sour sausage mixed with green onion, fresh chili, ginger, peanuts, crispy rice and lime juice,” this appetizer delivers time-bending ripples of spice, salt and citrus over a constantly changing landscape of fresh ingredients. In seconds the relative stillness of isolation from the Strip is swept aside, replaced by a flood of sensory input that puts the “b” in “subtle.”

A similarly taste bud scattering experience can be found in the restaurant’s rendition of Thum Ka-Noon, a “local” dish made of shredded jackfruit, ground pork, tomato, and a plethora of minced and blended spices from the North of Thailand. The softer texture of this dish makes it a tame counterpart to the fireworks show of the Nam Kao Tod, but the Thum Ka-Noon is no less sophisticated in its parsed delivery of myriad flavor.

Illustrating the diversity of the menu, Lotus of Siam’s northern red curry eschews the coconut milk of central and south Thai dishes for an unforgiving intensity. Without the cushion of the richness and sweetness that is typical of Thai dishes in America, this vegetable heavy blend relies on the freshness of its ingredients and the purity of its spices more than anything else on the table. At a spice level of eight, it attains a steadily blistering burn while retaining the feeling of refreshment that comes with the snap of a good green bean and the muted crunch of a perfectly simmered cabbage leaf.

On a more familiar front, duck curry, a staple gem of Thai restaurants, makes an appearance here to put its understudies to shame. Starting with an exceptionally lean cut of duck and a bold red curry base, Lotus of Siam’s roasted duck curry avoids the twin perils of fatty, self-contented meat and timid, hyper-rich sauce. Chutima cuts the curry with a restrained touch of coconut milk, then spikes the dish with a creative mix of pineapples, bell pepper, cherry tomato, basil and red grapes, doing so in a way that preserves the distinct contribution of each garnish as it adds its note of sweetness to the savory composition.

Outdoing both of these dishes, however, is Lotus of Siam’s Khao Soi, a northern red curry that unapologetically wraps itself deeply in coconut cream. This alfredo-like blend is then folded over a heap of boiled egg noodles, garnished with a sparing amount of onion, lime and cilantro, and topped with a second helping of egg noodles, this time deep fried. Mixing the fried noodles with the rest of the dish before eating unlocks an addictively unpredictable combination of textures, again preventing the diner from settling too easily into any single sensation before the next turn of the palate is reached.

In comparison to the dizzying array of spices that populates the menu, Lotus of Siam’s whole fried catfish turns out to be one of the milder, if more exotically presented, dishes the restaurant has to offer. Plar Dook O-Cha, which arranges the golden brown fish on a bed of cabbage, peanuts, cashews, and thin slices of fresh green apple, turns what could be the fiercest of dinner platters into a surprisingly light piece de resistance. Chunks of catfish break away perfectly from the body, and the almost non-existent seasoning of the meat is complemented perfectly by naturally light touches of fruit, vegetable and nut. Yet another synergistic peak of stimulation is achieved when crunch collapses into tenderness and you’re left to wonder where the untouched constituents of your mouth have been hiding all these years.

We stepped out of Lotus of Siam in a complete daze and headed back toward the Strip. Having ceded complete control of our most primal appetence for the day, we caught a cab heading east to indulge our remaining senses in a feast of entertainment.

The Pinball Hall of Fame has been standing at the corner of Tropicana and Pecos for less than three years. Featuring over 200 games, including modern wonders, drop dead cool classics, and noble experiments, it has already established itself as a bastion of bells and whistles unlike any other in the world. In addition to three full aisles of historic pinball machines, the museum also houses a row of classic arcade games and a classic arcade simulator that includes over twenty games for 25 cents a play. It was at this machine that I finally reached level three of Burger Time. I went on to set the day’s high score for Ms. Pac-Man, cheered on by a rapt six-year old girl who proudly announced my conquest of each level; that is, until she inexplicably realized the absurdity of my mastery of 8-bit timing, cavalierly declared, “I’m never going to be a man!” and stormed off, never to be seen again.

After a few drinks at the sports bar next door, the bookhouse boys and I caught a bus to the bottom of the Strip and strolled along three miles of the most morally contradictory distractions gathered in one place. As we set out from the chivalrous spires of Excalibur and passed a charmingly displaced reconstitution of the Brooklyn Bridge, a row of immigrant workers shoved handfuls of escort trading cards into our hands, promising girls in our hotel room in 20 minutes or less. A young couple passed by, strolling their newborn babe under the eyes in the sky and sipping on $1 frozen margaritas in plastic cups. Every building sported an untold number of faces. Every which way led to an ornately carpeted chamber of vice installed in the graces of family friendly frivolity, and every flat surface surrendered one of its corners to an ashtray. In the twilight city, the devil has lungs to spare, and we had only taken our first deep drag of disorientation.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 16th, 2008 at 12:13 am and is filed under Curry, Deep Fried, Las Vegas, Noodles.