RESTAURANT REVIEW : Evening at Patakan Thai Depends on Luck of Draw

My first dinner at Patakan Thai restaurant in Pasadena’s Old Town was splendid. The cool gray room with its chic concrete detail and purple neon squiggle was compellingly attractive and immediately comfortable. We liked the crowd, a convivial mix of young and old Pasadenans, some on dates, some in families. And we liked our waiter, who turned out to be one of the owners. He exuded a cheerful, contagious confidence; clearly, he enjoyed his handsome restaurant and wanted us to do so as well.

The food came out looking fresh and gorgeous on shiny black china with cunningly placed clumps of bright shredded carrots and purple cabbage and big, crisp vegetable rosettes. At first, we panicked. We thought we’d ordered way too much; the delicious, juicy chicken satay under ordinary circumstances was ample enough for a main course. But then the won ton soup arrived and we got hungry all over again--after all, nothing builds an appetite like good food. The soup’s broth was crystal-clear, the spinach so fresh it was still crisp, and the pork-filled won tons were light and heavenly.

The “dancing” shrimp might have danced a little past their prime in the boiling water pot, but their spicy lime sauce was lively and inspired. A scallop special had a tasty but not overpowering garlic sauce. The spicy mint noodles were delightfully hot: Thank goodness my ice water was replenished at regular intervals. By the time dinner was over, we had eaten a historic amount of food, but it would have broken our hearts to leave any behind. We left feeling pampered and pleased; we couldn’t wait to feel hungry again so that we could come back and try more dishes.

Within the week we returned. This time, however, we had a meal that was like an evil reflection of the first. We weren’t ready to order when the waitress first came to our table, so she gave us some more time . . . a lot of it. The room was so chilly, I continually found myself trying to huddle under my dinner napkin. The first appetizer, “Three’s Company,” was an assortment of fried things like zucchini and shrimp that were thickly breaded with a way-too-thick-and-crunchy breading. “If I wanted this much crunch, I would have eaten a box of dry Grape-Nuts at home,” said my companion. On the other hand, the classic noodles, pad Thai, were tasteless. A deep-fried pompano topped with the chef’s special spices (tomatoes and onions and peppers) was completely inedible. To her credit, the waitress did notice we were boycotting the fish, so she took it back to the kitchen and shortly thereafter removed if from our bill. Even the simple spinach in oyster and black-bean sauce had a brackish taste. This time, we left Patakan hungry.

It was several weeks before I ventured back inside Patakan, during which time I was genuinely torn. I remembered that first, lovely evening. But I had an aversion to repeating the second not-so-lovely evening. I kept having the same internal conversation. Even the best restaurants have their off-nights, I’d tell myself. But then another little voice would say, even the worst restaurants have their good nights. Finally, I took a different friend, one with no preconceptions, and went there for dinner.

It was a Wednesday night. Patakan was a little over half full. We were waited on courteously and promptly, the food arrived without a hitch. And it was all, well, just fine. Not great. Not horrible. Just fine. The chicken and coconut milk soup, tom kha gai , was warming and tasty. The cashew chicken was unremarkable and bland, reminiscent of the Cantonese dinners of my childhood. We also ordered pad khing , a ginger and black mushroom saute with beef. Despite the devilishly hot, spicy slivers of fresh ginger, the meat was tasteless and instead of black mushrooms there were thin and rubbery tree ears, a fungus that tastes a little like seaweed. They were not unpleasant, but they weren’t the kind of black mushrooms I’d been expecting, either.

For dessert, we had fried ice cream, which is a little greasy and a little sinful--like a doughnut or a beignet filled with ice cream.

By the time we left, I felt both better and worse about Patakan. It seemed neither splendid nor wretched, neither a place to frequent constantly or a place to avoid altogether. I asked my friend if she’d like to give the last word on the place. She looked around. “It’s very nicely designed,” she said. “And I love the good, hefty chopsticks, and the smidgen of gold leaf on the menu . . . and the pantaloons the waitresses wear . . . the neon . . . and the concrete slabs.

“And the food?” I prompted.

She furrowed her brow, looked this way and that. “The food?” she said. “It’s chancy.”

Patakan Thai Restaurant, 43 E. Union St., Pasadena, (818) 449-4418. Lunch daily 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m.; dinner Sunday to Thursday 5 p.m. to 10 p.m., Friday and Saturday 5:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. Major credit cards. Beer and wine. Validated parking in public lot across the street. Dinner for two, food only, $24-$55.