Stepping into Thai Pavilion, I am transported and immersed into an ambiance of a retro, Zen-like quality. Low-lit candles set the soft lighting in the restaurant, as do the modern twists on red lanterns and scattered stage lights that hang overhead. The tables are of a cool marble, adorned with a vase of violet orchids and set by candlelight. Various knickknacks—two crowing roosters, the emblematic American star, a model vessel ship—line an adjacent wall.

The myriad of seating options is admirable. The slightly raised platform featuring wrap-around leather seats and floor-to-ceiling picture windows, the bar front highlighting a metallic backdrop and a flat-panel television, the loft that leads from a silver, sweeping spiral staircase—available Friday evenings, weekends and on special occasions—and for the art enthusiast, a front-row view of the aforementioned artifacts, are all solid bets for seating arrangements.

The wait staff proves rather efficient; my family and I were seated immediately upon arrival. Conversation is easy as soft rock trickles, unimposing and soothing, from the speakers. When asked which of the dishes are truly authentic Thai cuisine, our server smiled only sheepishly and after a hesitation, replied, "I think everything is real." That, soon, would be judged.

Unfortunately, my lackluster appetizer was less than magnificent. The chicken satay, which boasts a stingy five pieces of skewed chicken, marinated in spices and grilled, came off cold and dry and slightly burnt in the wrong places. Much better was the duo of sauces that come with the chicken. The vinaigrette, cool and tart, added a zesty punch to the otherwise flavorless poultry, while the creamy peanut sauce gave a new dimension of texture with petite peanut bits.

Entrée shrimp clay pot, however, came graciously—and was welcomed thoroughly—in a heartier portion. The shrimp, plump, tender and succulent, played company to the rich, concentrated texture of soft, slightly-sticky cellophane noodles that came off nicely moist without excessive oil. A medley of shitake mushroom, crisp watery cabbage, red pepper and ginger contributed dutifully to the stew, as did the inclusion of fresh basil leaves to add a rustic tang to the punch.

Thai Pavilion offers Pik Khing with a choice of beef, chicken, pork or shrimp sautéed with string beans and a red curry paste. The pork variety was rather fine, featuring a chewy, sans toughness, meat that proved lacking in the previous chicken. Be forewarned however: the curry sauce, which resembled a Sloppy Joe consistency, sent fiery shots to the back of my throat, and after which called for two full glasses of iced water to ease my recovery. One upside of note: spiciness is sure to stave off the winter chills.

Better yet, the green curry embodies one of the best renowned in Thai comfort foods. Bathed in a luxurious coconut-infused broth with tender bamboo shoots and firm eggplant, the milky mixture compensated the unfortunate leathery texture of the beef.

Good things, fortunately, come to those who wait, and desert is no exception. The coconut custard was heavenly, part airy sponge cake and part silky mousse. Resting alongside the dish is steamed sticky rice splashed with a sweetened coconut cream. Lightly toasted sesame seeds and slices of the cloying—and notoriously pungent—jackfruit complete the summit.

The final verdict? Indulgence in the form of two chocolate-covered breath mints, gratis.
Rating: 3.5/5