By The Secret Diner –
In my last review, Mrs. Secret Diner and I described dining at Rum Fish y Vino, 34 N. Palm Street. Please check them out. Tell them The Secret Diner sent you! Read below and guess where we went next.
Throughout the day, Mrs. Secret Diner and I text back and forth like crushing teenagers. We check in when we know a day is going to be tough, send flirty emojis and messages weighed down with double entendre. We send gifs and tiks to get a smile or giggle, cat videos and people falling among our favorites. We spill workplace tea which is almost always accompanied by “…too much to text. I’ll tell you later.” And, about midweek we start floating restaurant ideas for our next Secret Diner mission.
“Let’s try…”
“What about…”
“There’s a new place…”
For this mission, we decided on a place that many have recommended to us, a style of food we don’t consider often enough with menu options both familiar and safe, and those a bit more adventurous.
Mrs. Diner spotted the black awning, restaurant name in bright white lettering, first. “I see it!” We waited on a white Benz to pull into traffic and took their spot less than a block away. I assumed the name of the eatery made reference to the cuisine, and I was only partly correct. Like some of my best texts to Mrs. Diner, the name has layers of meaning.
“Notice the motif?” she asked. Red brick, gleaming axe, brass extinguisher, helmet with frontpiece or shield, red firebox. The decor is an homage and not a lifted-truck-with-flags-and-stickers statement of aggression. It harmonizes surprisingly well with the orchids on the bar and throughout the dining room.
Mrs. Diner has a theory that all people have either a thing for cops, or a thing for firefighters. She was giddy. She’s definitely team firefighter.
We were invited to choose a seat. Two solo-diners had posted up in opposite corners of the small dining room. We chose a banquet-style table near the door. Our server left large laminated menus and cups of icy water in dimpled, copper cups. “Can I get you something to drink?” Mrs. Diner asked for an Oyster Bay sauvignon blanc. I went with a white as well, soda. Sprite.
As we talked about what we might order, the owner chatted up customers. He seemed to know everyone who came in. “He’s giving retired firefighter vibes,” Mrs. Diner said and batted her eyes.
To start, we ordered dumplings. Mrs. Diner asked for the Thai spicy basil with ground chicken, and I went for the crab fried rice.
By the time our food arrived, every seat in the dining room was full, and there was a steady current of take-out traffic flowing in. Folks left with armloads of bagged up food and smiles on their faces.
Our dumplings, symmetrical and uniform, came lined up neat on a skinny plate garnished with a nest of stringed veggies. They were crispy, succulent. “You don’t even need the soy sauce,” Mrs. Diner said as I dunked a bite deep in the jar of sauce.
Mrs. Diner’s dish was so aromatic, the basil wafting through the dining room. She “Mmmm’d” after each bite. I scooped a taste and concurred. Delicious. I started to regret my choice, not because it wasn’t delicious but because I may have been too conservative in my order. There are curries and soups to choose from, a catfish dish I will certainly return for.
The portions are huge, and Mrs. Diner spooned her leftovers into a cardboard box, the perfect lunch for tomorrow. I, on the other hand, ate every grain of rice on my plate. The egg, the crab, the onion, everything was just perfect, and I couldn’t stop.
Mrs. Diner almost persuaded me to get dessert. I just had no room. I waddled to the car, and we vowed to return for the curry and some coconut ice cream.
Think you know the place we chose? Check out my next review to see if you are right, and to join us on our next adventure.
