Wednesday, July 14, 2004
One night in Bangkok makes a strong man crumble
I’d like to apologize to my legions of loyal readers for going several weeks without an update. I was out of town for a while, and lately I’ve been enduring the hardships of moving to a new apartment. It is apt that I mention change in surroundings right off the bat, as that is the topic for this entry, which, unfortunately, is a somber one.
There is a vast spectrum of loss of various intensities that we humans can experience, ranging from the death of a loved one, to the death of a pet, down to such relatively minor tragedies as the cancellation of a favorite TV show or the loss of a lucky comb. Hovering somewhere in the latter, less intense area is the loss of a business or real estate. I speak not in the sense of having one’s own business crumble, with the associated economic woes that that entails, but in reference to a beloved hangout, a frequented store, or a popular restaurant. I have experienced this kind of loss extremely rarely, and not at all during my time as an undergraduate in Chicago. Way back in my early college days people were freshly mourning the House of Tiki, a venerable purveyor of liquors whose neon-encrusted edifice still stands, empty, on 53rd Street. I had no experience with Tiki, and its death evoked no response, especially from a staunch teetotaler like myself. The same cannot be said of the business immediately adjacent to the Tiki, however: Thai Twee. For most of the Hyde Park community, Thai Twee was simply one of four Thai restaurants within a mile radius. A good place to jump for chow if you happened to be wandering down 53rd. But to a select few it was more, oh, so much more. For Twee was the site of the legendary pre-EvMorph dinners. Every Thursday, immediately prior to the Evolution and Morphology lectures held in the Hinds Geophysical Sciences Building, the students and faculty of Chicago’s Darwinian Sciences Cluster would assemble for an hour or so of fine dining and discussion. The speaker of the night was dragged along, so that his or her brain could be thoroughly picked and this knowledge could be imparted to the grad student collective. Oh, the debates! Everything from ostracod spination to the very origin of life was fair game, with representatives from all branches of evolutionary biology freely adding their two cents. It was a latter day Algonquin Round Table for the greatest minds in evolutionary theory (and a spot for we not-so-great minds to act as hangers-on.) One can only imagine how many breakthroughs in paleobiology had their genesis in comments made over shumai and fried tofu at Twee.
For several of the Darwinian grad students, myself definitely among them, Twee also represented the best meal we’d get all week. In this wintry economic climate, a creature of my size cannot afford to eat until it is really full. But because dinners at Twee were subsidized by the department, a mere five dollars was all that was needed to gain access to seemingly limitless servings of pad sea ewe, green curry chicken, and pineapple fried rice. Not that there wasn’t some competition amidst this bounty. For in a sea of great dishes, one reigned supreme. Described by some as more candy than meat, Twee’s Bangkok chicken was like the sweetest of ambrosia, deep-fried and glazed mana from a heaven where arteries are infinitely wide. One was allowed only a few tender strips of meat from the Bangkok platter before you had to pass it to the person next to you, invariably slathering like a jackal in anticipation. Even with this nigh-communist structure in place, the person at the very end of the chicken line would often find themselves with little more than sugary runoff and a few cashews on which to feed. Because of this, the rabid Bangkok boosters (such as myself) would jockey for position around the table, hoping to clinch the spots where the food first makes its appearance. With teeth bared, we would stare down weaker conspecifics, sending them whimpering to the window corners while we feasted on that sweet, sweet goodness.
But alas, as of July 10, 2004, Twee is no more. Apparently, the entire block, now a ghost-town of legendary Hyde Park eateries (Twee, Tiki, and Cedars, the latter of which has thankfully relocated), is being torn down so that greedy developers (is there any other kind?) can put up condos. I only found out about the closing two days before it happened, and by then it was too late to save Twee. There was not even time to hold a bikini carwash, or pull a monkey hustle, or assemble a ragtag team of misfits to win some competition with a big cash prize! And so we loyal Darwinians, with a mixture of sadness and revelry befitting an Irish wake, paid our last respects. Thursday night dinners will live on in some new location, but it won’t be the same. Personally, I hope that we don’t relocate to any of the remaining Thai places in the neighborhood. Having to choke down their sorry excuses for Bangkok spices would be downright cruel when the taste of Twee still lingers in my memory. May it linger there always, as benchmark for southeast Asian cuisines yet to be had, and as testament to good times and mind-expanding dialogue.
RIP Thai Twee: 1994-2004
I’d like to apologize to my legions of loyal readers for going several weeks without an update. I was out of town for a while, and lately I’ve been enduring the hardships of moving to a new apartment. It is apt that I mention change in surroundings right off the bat, as that is the topic for this entry, which, unfortunately, is a somber one.
There is a vast spectrum of loss of various intensities that we humans can experience, ranging from the death of a loved one, to the death of a pet, down to such relatively minor tragedies as the cancellation of a favorite TV show or the loss of a lucky comb. Hovering somewhere in the latter, less intense area is the loss of a business or real estate. I speak not in the sense of having one’s own business crumble, with the associated economic woes that that entails, but in reference to a beloved hangout, a frequented store, or a popular restaurant. I have experienced this kind of loss extremely rarely, and not at all during my time as an undergraduate in Chicago. Way back in my early college days people were freshly mourning the House of Tiki, a venerable purveyor of liquors whose neon-encrusted edifice still stands, empty, on 53rd Street. I had no experience with Tiki, and its death evoked no response, especially from a staunch teetotaler like myself. The same cannot be said of the business immediately adjacent to the Tiki, however: Thai Twee. For most of the Hyde Park community, Thai Twee was simply one of four Thai restaurants within a mile radius. A good place to jump for chow if you happened to be wandering down 53rd. But to a select few it was more, oh, so much more. For Twee was the site of the legendary pre-EvMorph dinners. Every Thursday, immediately prior to the Evolution and Morphology lectures held in the Hinds Geophysical Sciences Building, the students and faculty of Chicago’s Darwinian Sciences Cluster would assemble for an hour or so of fine dining and discussion. The speaker of the night was dragged along, so that his or her brain could be thoroughly picked and this knowledge could be imparted to the grad student collective. Oh, the debates! Everything from ostracod spination to the very origin of life was fair game, with representatives from all branches of evolutionary biology freely adding their two cents. It was a latter day Algonquin Round Table for the greatest minds in evolutionary theory (and a spot for we not-so-great minds to act as hangers-on.) One can only imagine how many breakthroughs in paleobiology had their genesis in comments made over shumai and fried tofu at Twee.
For several of the Darwinian grad students, myself definitely among them, Twee also represented the best meal we’d get all week. In this wintry economic climate, a creature of my size cannot afford to eat until it is really full. But because dinners at Twee were subsidized by the department, a mere five dollars was all that was needed to gain access to seemingly limitless servings of pad sea ewe, green curry chicken, and pineapple fried rice. Not that there wasn’t some competition amidst this bounty. For in a sea of great dishes, one reigned supreme. Described by some as more candy than meat, Twee’s Bangkok chicken was like the sweetest of ambrosia, deep-fried and glazed mana from a heaven where arteries are infinitely wide. One was allowed only a few tender strips of meat from the Bangkok platter before you had to pass it to the person next to you, invariably slathering like a jackal in anticipation. Even with this nigh-communist structure in place, the person at the very end of the chicken line would often find themselves with little more than sugary runoff and a few cashews on which to feed. Because of this, the rabid Bangkok boosters (such as myself) would jockey for position around the table, hoping to clinch the spots where the food first makes its appearance. With teeth bared, we would stare down weaker conspecifics, sending them whimpering to the window corners while we feasted on that sweet, sweet goodness.
But alas, as of July 10, 2004, Twee is no more. Apparently, the entire block, now a ghost-town of legendary Hyde Park eateries (Twee, Tiki, and Cedars, the latter of which has thankfully relocated), is being torn down so that greedy developers (is there any other kind?) can put up condos. I only found out about the closing two days before it happened, and by then it was too late to save Twee. There was not even time to hold a bikini carwash, or pull a monkey hustle, or assemble a ragtag team of misfits to win some competition with a big cash prize! And so we loyal Darwinians, with a mixture of sadness and revelry befitting an Irish wake, paid our last respects. Thursday night dinners will live on in some new location, but it won’t be the same. Personally, I hope that we don’t relocate to any of the remaining Thai places in the neighborhood. Having to choke down their sorry excuses for Bangkok spices would be downright cruel when the taste of Twee still lingers in my memory. May it linger there always, as benchmark for southeast Asian cuisines yet to be had, and as testament to good times and mind-expanding dialogue.
RIP Thai Twee: 1994-2004
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