Riding the much-deserved success of Isan Zaap and its invigorating brand of Northeast Thai cuisine, chef-owner Fin Patsawee went all in with her latest venture, a comely North Quarter charmer that wouldn’t look out of place in White Lotus. It’s called Talay, and the place certainly appears to be catching on with the city’s food-obsessed know-it-alls. There hasn’t been this much buzz in the North Quarter since Natsu received a Michelin star four months after welcoming guests into their omakase room. Which is roughly about how long Talay (it means “sea” in Thai) has been open.
As its name suggests, the restaurant is partial to the bounties of the deep — “I want to showcase the flavors of Thailand through seafood,” says Patsawee, and that she most certainly does. The sea scents the air, and the restaurant’s coastal decor underscores Patsawee’s nose for design. My own proboscis pointed to a heady green curry served with roti ($12), and our mouths were collectively grateful.
Then it veered toward one of the most seafood-heavy items on the menu — hor mok talay ($32), with its red curry custard coating calamari, shrimp, fish and a trio of mussels all served inside a coconut shell. Makrut lime, ginger and Thai basil added zest, while a slick of coconut milk proved palliating in hue only. The curried custard caked onto the seafood threw some of my dining companions — “Not sure about this mouthfeel,” I heard one say. Admittedly, the dish threw me as well; then it grew on me. If anything, it’s photogenic as hell, unlike the Thai-style omelet ($26), which is a bit simple on looks and flavor. The fattened eggy round is cooked with fish sauce and topped with a few morsels of lump crab. I didn’t quite understand this being one of Talay’s “signature” offerings. By comparison, the sweet corn salad ($15), tossed in a bracing lime dressing with peanuts, tomato and Thai chilies with grilled shrimp ($5 extra), seemed more deserving of that status.
After enjoying a wonderful wok-fired Thai fried rice with shrimp ($20), and slurping a half dozen Blue Point oysters ($18), we noticed our server never came back. Oyster shells and empty plates weren’t cleared, nor were empty cocktail glasses. By the way, pass on the cloying mango sticky rice cocktail ($18) and sample a proper-stiff Oh My Lychee ($17) or banana bourbon barrel ($17) instead. Anyway, it seems they were really short-staffed, and on a Saturday night no less. I really wanted some mango sticky rice ($15) — the dessert, not the cocktail — but it was clear the smart play was to roll on out.
But not before we peeked inside Noir Bar, a moody speakeasy connected to the restaurant by a door near the entrance. A hologram projecting waves washing over the floor leads the way to the bar and is just one of the many small details that went into Talay’s design — “right down to the silverware,” Patsawee says.
On a return visit, the place was still short-staffed. I simultaneously felt bad for, and in awe of, Nam — the bartender who mixed drinks, greeted guests, cleared tables, engaged with patrons and did it all with a smile on her face. I smiled too after she put down a flame-licked jumbo river prawn ($27) served with an addicting green sauce made from cilantro, garlic and lime. Just as grin-inducing were the panang scallops ($29) — not so much for the springy pucks, but for the glorious curry, which drank like soup. When that longed-for plate of mango sticky rice ($15) did arrive, the wait, alas, wasn’t worth it — unripe mango and gummy rice being the culprits. Nam, spotting the dessert’s deficiencies, was kind enough to comp the capper.
She’s a flawed beauty, Talay is, one you can’t help but be mesmerized by and drawn to. And, yes, there’s plenty of worth to be found here, but as is so often the case with seafood, it just comes in waves.
Talay
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This article appears in The 420 Issue 2025.