Excuse me a moment, but I'd like a word with the rare people: those who cringe when they see steak cooked medium and weep at the thought of it well-done.
Friends, I am with you all the bloody way, though I hesitate at boeuf bleu – the stage when th
e poor beast still needs a vet more than a chef. And I would be with you more if fine, matured steaks and fine, mature chefs were in constant alignment in this country, but they are not. Rib-eye may feature on almost every menu from the Michelin restaurant to the village boozer, but you will spend a half lifetime finding the perfect specimen.
Nor are things much better in France, where too many provincial restaurants wave a candle at a cut from an indifferent animal and pretend they are practising haute cuisine. Even a blameless steak, however, needs a sauce for company. Western classicism would still seem to offer the best: Bearnaise is best; herb butter is good, the pan-scrapings washed off with red wine are acceptable. Yet in Boston Spa the other evening came that agreeable conjunction of fine Aberdeen Angus fillet, a chef with a rare sense of timing and an eastern sauce with more lift than Soyuz 2.
Thai restaurants in this country, if they market themselves at all, tend to stress the lightness, delicacy and balance of their food. Unlike an increasing number of their British cousins, they tend not to shout about the quality, status or source of their produce. Except for the Thai Jantra, that is. It lets customers know that it uses local ingredients, including grass-fed Aberdeen Angus, organic dairy and eggs and outdoor-reared pork, and that it tries to support Yorkshire farmers that are preserving traditional and rare breed meats. The wine list has been compiled by an enthusiast and is said to be entirely organic, so the dull house white is hardly an ideal advert for it. Still, the owners are aiming high, for they insist on the menu: "We absolutely will not use any pre-made frozen products or intensively-made produce in any of our food." Good for them. But does this add up to more than a row of organic beans?
Does the difference tell on the plate? It does in nur nam tok, the fillet beef. Head chef Prasert Sihabong uses a magnificent cut supplied by butcher George Kirk, cooks it rosy and peps it further with a sauce featuring finely chopped garlic, chilli, lime and coriander.
He places the meat beside vegetable skewers and a salad of finely shredded cabbage dressed with orange and lime juice, and creates something distinctive. Discrimination in buying leads to à la carte prices slightly higher than in the average British high street Thai, but the policy is also vindicated in a dish of sliced chicken with chilli and lemongrass, where the meat has lots to say and the texture is free from squelch.
It's encouraging that restaurants take pains over buying produce, and a pleasure when a chef like this takes pains in putting it to best use.
Deep-fried pork toast, presumably involving saddleback from Roger Hebdon of Thirsk, who is named on the menu, is a terrific juicy construction with a light crust and enough calories to keep all the local doctors in business.
If that's a winner among starters, the vegetable spring roll with orange and pineapple sauce is not far behind, and high power Thai fishcakes crackle along with the aid of a peanut and chilli sauce.
One item on the menu carries the title "tom zap".
The adjective well captures the perky nature of the spicing here. Gaeng phed ped yang is duck in red curry whose innocent coconut cream texture conceals all sorts of fireworks.
The piercing freshness of the sauce was appealing; the limp shrouds of duck skin less so. And for those who prize a calm plate, the menu finds room for a glass noodle and mushroom salad with spring onions and coriander, whose effect is more stirring than fiery.
All this happens in a converted, double-fronted Georgian house, though there's not much left to see of the original. The room is open plan, with the kitchen on view, so avoid the tables close to the hatch as the cooking smells grow more pungent as the orders go in. Decor is simple and clean of line, though the decorators seemed to run out of paint before they reached the loos. Tables and floor are of oak and chairs of suede, and everything sits together rather well. Gracious service increases the appeal – though the salesmanship of drink could be toned down – and it is pleasing to see that this place has been adopted as a neighbourhood restaurant. Regulars were meeting and greeting, a grandfather was entertaining his baby son on his knee and locals were dropping by for a drink and a takeaway, giving the enterprise a lively air.
Finally, for those resistant to beef of any shade, Boston Spa vegetables feature among the vegetarian dishes and tofu comes in green curry with coconut milk.
n Thai Jantra, 202-204 High Street,
Boston Spa, LS23 6JU. 01937 845827. Open: Sunday – Thursday 5.30pm – 9.30pm; Friday and Saturday 5.30pm – 10.00pm.
Lunch: Wednesday – Saturday. Street parking, disabled access, smoke-free dining room.
À la carte, or three courses and glass of wine: £15 a head, Sunday – Thursday.
