A Eulogy for the Peanuts of Thai Express

By Nikko Ong

Thai Express is a chain like no other, unparalleled in generosity, uncontested in rapidity, and unremarkable in menu design. My first and favorite one was the small location that nestled behind the Le James bookstore at the intersection of Sherbrooke and University.

They served me my heaping plate of Pad Thai with chicken on a piece of styrofoam so flimsy it cracked underneath the weight of tangy, soy-sauce dripping flat rice noodles laced with bean sprouts and fried tofu and green onions. A little soggy, a little oily, a little sweet, and a lot delicious, Pad Thai was the best thing they served.

That restaurant and its flagship dish disappeared one day when I wasn't looking, and I've mourned it ever since. Since then, I've been comforted in the loving arms of the Eaton Center Thai Express and the Thai Express under the ScotiaBank theater, which both provide offerings of considerable quality. With them, I've experienced managerial changes and brand-level shifts to compostable plates, paper straws, and smaller portions, but I'll never forget that first location.

Other joints in Montreal have amazing Pad Thai, perhaps some even better than Thai Express. They might have more skilled cooks or better ingredients, but the one thing that made Thai Express special for me was the condiment bar at the end of the guide rails.

Forming a straight line from the cashier to the plexiglass-shielded prep station to the wok burners, the guide rails lead you to gold: the peanuts of Thai Express. They sit in a square aluminum hotel pan alongside gummy bottles of Sriracha and cut-up limes that have seen better days.

Sometimes there would be little plastic containers to put the condiments in, and sometimes there wouldn't. There might be serving tongs for customers to grab their aging lime quarters and crushed peanuts, but oftentimes you'd make

Source: thaiexpressfranchise.com do with a plastic fork. The condiment bar was a little slice of paradise where you could transform your plate from a delicious, albeit homogenous, pile of food to a sparkling and professionally-plated paragon of haute cuisine.

The mixture of red chili, palm sugar, fish sauce, and tamarind paste blend into a darker sauce, which needs visual pops of life to epitomize what a Pad Thai could, and should, be.

For me, that entails a drizzle of bright red Sriracha atop artfully placed limes that accentuate the mounded curves of the rice noodles. It means a generous scattering of bleached peanuts to bring out the beautiful hazel tones of the under-

lay. And it means, above all, the freedom and creativity that are inherent to cooking.

What Thai Express lacked in refinement, it made up for with efficiency and affordability. What it lacked in polish, it compensated with convenience. Though it lagged behind in individuality, it brought it home with the condiment bar.

The Pad Thai of Thai Express is not a spectacular and life-changing food, but with the help of crushed peanuts, it becomes an outlet for artistic expression and culinary elevation.

Peanuts add crunch, flavor, and fat to any plate, and condiments, as a whole, serve the same essential purpose. They are the sparklers on the birthday cake and they are the 50 dollar bills that relatives slip to you in a secret handshake. They are the constellations in the night sky, and they represent the beautiful heterogeneity of life. As optional as they might seem, condiment bar peanuts are the key to the triumph of Thai Express.

When the global pandemic of COVID-19 rolled around, these condiments barely registered in my mind. Of greater concern were public health policies and preventative measures, not the sad limes and week-old peanuts at my favorite fast food stall. It wasn't until several months later that I realized the treasure we had lost.

With Thai Express only offering take-out and growing concerns over the spread of the virus on exposed public surfaces, the condiment bar was scrapped. It must have been a monumental time as the last pan of crushed peanuts was emptied.

Now, my beloved Pad Thai from Thai Express is just another Pad Thai. No more limes, no more Sriracha, no more peanuts. Just like the unexpected loss of the Le James Thai Express, I mourn for the peanuts that once brought crunch and life to my food. I bid you a fond adieu, peanuts, and wait expectantly for your return alongside the council of the condiment bar.

Until we meet again, Nikko ♦