- VOL. 12.3
Epat Diary: You Are a Trampoline
By Sam Wilkinson
Dwarfing every other building in
Patong, the Royal Paradise Hotel is also home to the Royal Kitchen, a
Chinese restaurant way up on the 25th floor. Exiting the lift on the 23rd
floor, we simply gaped out at the view of Patong by night as a family of
bats waking up under the eaves blinked back at us from the tropical dusk
outside. Way down below, motorcycles and tuk tuks tooted at each other,
policemen blew whistles and Happy Hour ended. Sin City was readying itself
for another night of virginal innocence, good clean fun.
Entering the bustling restaurant we took a window
seat and looked over the menu. Khun Daow, the restaurant manager, introduced
himself and gave us some suggestions as to what to eat as well as a quick
lesson in chopstick handling. I’ve always been a bit of a duffer with
chopsticks and was determined to make a success of it but it was sort of
hard to eat the first course - Wan Ton Soup - with two plastic sticks, so I
relented and used a spoon. Like everyone else.
It was delicious. Large prawns in noodles simply melted away in my mouth and
the salty taste went beautifully with the light Italian white
<I>Frascetti</I> we sipped. Daow tells us that up to seventy per cent of his
customers are Scandinavian and are pleasantly surprised at the reasonable
prices of the Royal Kitchen. All the same, Japanese voices, cigarette smoke
and camera flashes came from the other side of a bamboo screen next to us.
“Most people,” says Daow, perhaps in confirmation of my observations,
“especially the Japanese, know exactly what they want and how to eat it.” I
glanced down at my unused chopsticks and quickly ordered Peking Duck.
The service at Royal Kitchen deserves a mention. It’s fast, efficient and
friendly. The order arrives in record time and a waitress slices portions of
duck skin off, serving a plate load with miniature pancakes, spring onions
and cucumbers as side dishes then disappears with the bird. It’s now my
opportunity to show off my chopstick abilities, having practised secretly
under the table for the last few minutes. After thirty seconds though, my
partner - ever the soul of patience - picks an errant chopstick out of her
lap and hands it back to me with a polite smile, flicking bits of cucumber
off her silk tiger shirt.
The little pancakes are tasty, all right. A piquant plum sauce lends a sweet
‘n’ sour effect and we eat one after another. Just as I was removing a
chopstick from my ear the Peking Duck came back. It had been mercilessly
chopped up and deep-fried. Never mind, it made it all the easier to spear.
Next up, we ate scallops with asparagus and mushrooms with slivers of carrot
in soy sauce. Did I say ‘ate’? Devoured, more like. Daow joins us again,
politely ignoring the detritus caused by my now nearly perfect chopstick
technique, smilingly whips the mess away and we chat over Irish Coffee while
another waiter juggles three liquor bottles with an ease that pretty much
defies description.
Meanwhile, the Japanese group has left and over by the opposite window a
gang of Swedish tourists contemplates the Patong nightscape. It’s all very
peaceful up here on the 25th floor of the Royal Paradise Hotel in the Royal
Kitchen as we wish Khun Daow and the staff a very good night and leave.
No, I didn’t get to take along the chopsticks as a souvenir of a lovely
meal. My partner – her legendary patience exhausted - wouldn’t let me.
The Royal Kitchen: 135/23 Paradise Complex, Patong
Tel: 340 666; Fax: 340 565; ryphotel@phuket.ksc.co.th