A PAD (THAI) OF ONE’S OWN

GLM

This story is about a time when my lack of funds overpowered my ability to be a feminist. I’m not proud.

See, when you’re young and hungry, like I was at age twenty, you sometimes accept dinner dates you might not otherwise go on. The promise of a restaurant is worth the two hours (an hour if you eat fast) of shitty small talk. It was particularly worth it for flat-broke college me (and my concept of independence had not yet fully formed).

There was a real dirtbag in my poli-sci class, Dieter (obviously not his real name… come on). I was almost positive he cheated off my midterm. So you can imagine my surprise when one day, apropos of nothing, he asked me out to dinner. (Sidebar: This was college. Who asks anyone out to dinner?) Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have gone, but again, I was poor (and also I was the only reason he passed that midterm). Plus, when you’re young and an asshole is nice to you, you’re so caught off guard and excited that you basically lose all control. (This has been my experience.)

At dinner, the waiter came over, and Dieter (isn’t Dieter a fun name?) ordered for me without even asking what I wanted. I was shocked. My progressive Northern California upbringing had never put me in contact with this kind of backward “chivalry.” I froze. I went along with it and ate the meal, but hated it and myself. There was a salty-sweet pad Thai on the menu that I had been dying to order, but Dieter had decided that, that night, I would be sharing his steamed chicken and brown rice.

I vowed to never let this happen again. I wasn’t going to apologize for what I wanted to order.

Walking home afterward (alone—no nookie for Dieter, duh), I knew I should have stayed home and made my own pad Thai and retained my integrity. Now I make this as a reminder to always put myself first, and also because I like it, and it’s easy and cheap.

SERVES 2 TO 3

INGREDIENTS

14 ounces dried rice noodles

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 (1-inch) piece of ginger, peeled and minced

3 tablespoons soy sauce

2 tablespoons brown sugar

Asian chili sauce (more or less to taste)

2 limes: 1 juiced, 1 cut into wedges

2 tablespoons coconut, canola, or other vegetable oil

2 (6-ounce) boneless, skinless chicken thighs (or tofu), cut into 1-inch cubes

1 small white onion, sliced thin

2 eggs, lightly beaten

2 cups mung bean sprouts

2 carrots, grated

1 small bunch cilantro, chopped

1 small bunch mint, chopped

4 green onions, sliced

¼ cup peanuts, crushed

DIRECTIONS

• Cook the rice noodles according to package directions in boiling water. Drain and rinse. Set aside.

• In a small bowl, whisk together the garlic, ginger, soy sauce, brown sugar, chili sauce, lime juice, and ½ cup warm water.

• Heat the vegetable oil in a large frying pan over high heat.

• Cook the chicken and white onion together for 5 minutes or until the chicken is cooked through.

• Add the eggs to the pan and scramble with a spatula. Continue to move them around as they cook and spread them throughout the pan.

• Add the cooked noodles and reduce heat to medium. Add the bean sprouts and carrots and toss well. Let cook for 1 minute.

• Add the soy sauce mixture and toss to coat.

• To serve, heap a pile of the pad Thai onto a plate or bowl. Top with the fresh herbs, green onions, crushed peanuts, and more chili sauce if desired. Garnish each plate or bowl with a lime wedge.