It is a truth universally acknowledged, that all New York Food Bloggers must eventually write about Sripraphai.

In the wisdom of age I have come to appreciate the BYOB restaurant. Gone are the days when I would complain about the inconvenience of places without liquor licenses. Now, I embrace the freedom they bring. The option of buying my own cheap, rotgut wine by the bottle is infinitely better than paying $7 for a class of Concha y Toro. Of course, this is usually only available on East 6th street or in the outer boroughs. But oh, how I love the outer boroughs. I spent seven delicious years in Queens, and I miss it still. By and large the food is fresh, authentic, and fairly-priced. And since I am fully prepared to sacrifice ambience for these aforementioned qualities, the outer boroughs really are my culinary shangri la. Let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we?

After I graduated from college I lived in a ramshackle apartment in Queens with wall-to-wall pink carpeting, gleaming white walls, windows that didn't fully shut, and a boiler that ran industrial strength even in August. This apartment was also located in the Bermuda Triangle of Queens : within shouting distance of the elevated 7 train, the LIRR, Queens Boulevard, and the flight path of LaGuardia airport. Every day at 6am it sounded like a plane was landing in my bedroom. It was difficult to watch TV or talk on the phone because the boiler kept the apartment at a steady 110 degrees, and this made it necessary to keep a window open at all times. This, of course, allowed us to hear the 7 train in all its clanky, non-oiled glory every five minutes. And this is to say nothing of the overbearing landlord with his religious icons, and the crazy drunk irishman that lived downstairs. It was a unique time, and while I mainly gritted my teeth and focused on the cheap rent, my eccentric boss continually insisted that I would look back on these as the best years of my life. She was certainly right in one respect – I had some damn good meals.

It has been commonly accepted for some time that Sripraphai serves perhaps the best Thai food in all of New York City. I'm not sure that my friends and I knew that when we started frequenting this small restaurant in Woodside. Back in the day it looked like a down and out diner. The food was dirt cheap, and you pretty much ordered by picture. I'm fairly certain it was BYOB, but we were obsessed with the Thai Iced Tea, so that hardly mattered. I do remember that the green curry was almost lethal, and that the joint wasn't open on Wednesdays. I now live very, very far away from Queens. Yes, I'm technically still in the same city, but if you calculate the time it takes me get to Sripraphai I might as well live in Jersey (not that there's anything wrong with that). A trip to Sripraphai is now a major event. I was lucky enough to experience such a momentous occasion recently with my friend Laura.

Although we became friends through work, I think that Laura and I truly bonded over our mutual respect and appreciation for food. We've gone into raptures over sticky rice and mango. We have unabashedly scandalized fellow patrons with our moans at a Malaysian restaurant (the chicken curry roti made us do it). Sripraphai might as well be our culinary temple. It had been a long time since I'd eaten here, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that it had expanded threefold. Gone are the florescent glares and formica countertops. Now its all bamboo and mood-lighting. The food, however, is still painfully good. Emphasis on the painful. We started with fried watercress salad. Moved on to fried pickled pork. Followed all of that with fried pork belly and “southern style curry” - with fried tofu. I'm not sure we completely knew what we were getting ourselves into. We were, however warned about the curry. “Too spicy,” the waiter said. “Not for Americans.” Clearly I took this as a sign that we absolutely must, no matter what, have this curry. I probably even asked for it extra hot. And it was spicy. It was the kind of spicy that makes you want to strip down naked and run down the street screaming “sweet baby jesus!” while dousing your flaming head with water. And yet it was soooooooo right. Especially with the pork belly. The fat of the pork was such a nice compliment to the heat. Next time I might go for meat in the curry (I don't know that tofu was really up to the challenge), but I would definitely order it again.

We accompanied this spread with mounds of coconut rice. And yet, we still managed to rally for a dessert of sticky rice and mango. In the interest of full disclosure – this sticky rice and mango was not as good as the dish we had in Elmhurst this past summer. I mean, it was good, but none of the staff looked ready to throw us out of the restaurant on the grounds of indecency. The overall meal, however, was superlative. And by the time we left, the crowd waiting to be seated overflowed onto the sidewalk (note to self, always arrive at Sripraphai by 6pm on a Saturday).

All in all it was a highly successful night. We had a great meal, and I was able to pick up some curry sauce at the specialty Thai Food shop across the street. And the bonus? An adorable shop cat that offered up kissed to the customers. You see, this is why I miss Queens. Oh Inwood, why?! Why can't you fulfill my culinary dreams? Why must I go to the outer boroughs for true satisfaction? (Inwood just leaned in and whispered, “What about my multiple subway lines, extensive parkland, and discount wine shop?” Well played, Inwood. Well played.)