I experienced two wonderful things on my recent trip to Pok Pok Ny, Portland-chef Andy Ricker’s adored and critically acclaimed Thai restaurant on the Brooklyn waterfront. The first was shocking in its wonder: On a Thursday night, at 6:30pm, there was no line! This was the case all evening long, from the time Steven and I arrived and took our seats in the sweet backyard dining room— lit with strands of colorful lights, its tables covered in plastic red gingham cloths, its walls made from bamboo, like a Hawaiian Luau might appear magically in a big “poof” from the center of the room—until the time we left around 9pm. No line. A Brooklyn miracle! Given the stories I’d heard of waits beginning by 5:30, I had been bracing myself for an hour or two of hanging around. I’d even had a snack before leaving the house to make sure I would not get too cranky while waiting on our table. (I’m like an infant. I get terribly irritable when overtired or too hungry. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s true.)

Aside from the lack of a wait, we also had a fantastic waitress—a lovely young lady who reminded me of the character “Amber” played by Mae Whitman on the series “Parenthood.” You know the type—cute hair in ironic pig tails, an effortlessly cool look, in this case, rolled up jean shorts, vintage t-shirt, Chuck Taylors, and 70s plastic-framed butter yellow eye glasses that she probably doesn’t need for any sort of issue with her vision. I just loved her. She was friendly, knew that menu like the road to Burning Man, and was helpful, attentive, and just so hip. I wanted to be her. My guess is most 40-year old Brooklyn moms would.

In any case, other than the lack of line, the great waitress, oh, and the wonderful cocktails, there was nothing else that I liked about Pok Pok. Seriously. I’ve now listed all that was good about my experience there. I know many of you will wonder whether I’ve lost my mind, but I’m fairly certain I have not. The food was just not good. In fact, Steven and I kept ordering and ordering, hoping each time that we’d just chosen poorly and that the next dish would redeem the restaurant’s reputation. But no, it never happened.

The Laap Pet Isaan ($16) – a traditional Northeastern Thai spicy chopped duck salad was a sad in contrast to the terrific one you can get at Kin Shop. Pok Pok's was spicy and fiery, but rather muddy too, the meat overcooked and gnarly. The sticky rice that accompanied it was so sticky it might have been made with Elmer’s Glue. I could’ve shaped it into a ball and bounced it on the ground and had it right back in the palm of my hand in a neat second.

Another salad, the Neua Nom Tok ($14), was fashioned from slices of flank steak marinated in fish sauce, lime, and chiles, and tossed with lemongrass mint and cilantro. It too was over-cooked and also so over-salted I practically had to toss back an entire pitcher of water to save myself from instant dehydration. It was so bad in fact that we called our Mae Whitman doppelganger over and had to send it back. She was gracious, and handled it very nicely, immediately taking it off our bill. (Note to NOMAD, this is what you should have done about my $80 raw chicken.)

A rack of Niman Ranch baby back ribs ($16) were glazed in whiskey, soy, honey, ginger, and Thai spices. They seemed sure to turn the night around. But, no. They were so sickly sweet (they actually smelled like French toast when they arrived and made me feel like I was at the Happy Days Diner on Montague Street), I could barely stomach more than one. The texture was lovely, but that glaze was a one-note bummer—so sweet and yet so sad. No smoke, little heat, no dazzle.

Cha Cha La Vong ($14)—the Vietnamese catfish dish—was soggy and lacked any texture. The hunks of fish were supposed to have been fried with scallions, turmeric oil and dill, and they seemed like they might have been, perhaps last week, and then left to sit and grow soft and mushy. The rice noodles served with it were overcooked and added little contrast on the plate. It was all-together some Thai version of baby food. I’ll also say here that the Cha Cha La Vong at Wong is a culinary fantasy—hot, spicy, crispy, and blazing with flavor. I’ve never been to the restaurant in Hanoi where this dish was born, but I have a feeling the version served at Wong is a dish worthy of its namesake. The one at Pok Pok was just unfortunate.

Red fire water spinach ($9) was also lackluster—a generous portion of garlicky greens sitting in a puddle of liquid that looked like gray rainwater and didn’t taste all that different. Where were the chiles? I could discern not a one.

At least our meal ended on a hilarious note. We decided we could not go wrong with the coconut ice cream sandwich ($7), and we were, by now, desperate to eat something pleasing. It arrived, and we cracked up. Both of us, laughing until the table next to us commented on what was so funny. We pointed at the sandwich on our table. They too laughed. We were starting a small riot. On the plate was a white hot dog bun, possibly made by the Wonder Bread bakers, filled with there spoonfuls of coconut ice cream, which tasted grainy and granular—more so than it should have.

I understand that ice cream is sometimes served on white bread in Thailand, but my Thai friends tell me that the bread used is sweetened like a brioche, or it’s sweetened with pandan or some other sugar. This was just a Wonder Bread hot dog bun. And to be sure, Thai ice cream is not usually made the way our ice cream is, from dairy products. Traditionally, it’s made from taro. That can alter the texture, sure, but it should not fall apart in your spoon and crumble like dry dough, which this did. While I am not sure how they made this ice cream it was studded with candied pineapple that tasted as though it had been steeping in a bowl of Banana Boat SPF 4 suntan oil. In case you are wondering, suntan lotion on a hot dog bun does not a successful dessert make. Awful.

As I write this review, I honestly feel like Seinfeld’s Elaine when she reveals that she hates “The English Patient,” and is ostracized from society for not liking something that is so universally loved. “How could you not love the English Patient?” her friends ask her. She replies, in classic Elaine form, “I didn’t love it because it sucked! It’s just a stupid movie.” Her boyfriend breaks up with her over it. Her friends, who she doesn’t even like, will no longer speak to her.

Oh well, many of you probably won’t speak to me again as well. I’m prepared for the backlash. All I can say is, at least I didn’t have to wait in line, and I had that fantastic waitress.

Pok Pok Ny is open Daily 5:30pm-10:30pm It is located at 127 Columbia St, Brooklyn, 718 923 9322.

Andrea Strong