Shrimp Pad Thai

Pad Thai Is Thailand’s National Dish and the #1 Menu Item at My Family’s Restaurant—Here’s My Version of It

Pad thai has risen in the ranks to become the most popular menu item at each of my family’s restaurants—at my grandparents’ first restaurant, Siam Gourmet, and now at my aunt’s family restaurant, Peppermint Thai + Sushi. Beyond its popularity at my family’s restaurants, the dish has made an international name for itself, which confused me growing up because we hardly ever enjoyed it at home.

Despite pad thai’s fame and claim to broad authenticity, it hasn’t even been around for 100 years. In fact, the popularization of pad thai (and rice noodles) was just one of the many measures taken by Thai governmental authorities under Plaek Phibunsongkhram, former Prime Minister, to westernize the nation during World War II. This move led to a series of strongly enforced cultural mandates, including renaming of the country from Siam to Thailand, adopting the Thai language instead of regional dialects and following a new, westernized dress code instead of their traditional garments. These mandates were reflective of Thaification, a forced assimilation by which people of different cultural and ethnic origins living in Thailand had to take on the practices of the dominant culture of Thailand.

Noodles made sense: as the region faced the challenge of a diminishing rice crop, Phibunsongkhram introduced rice noodles, which were both inexpensive and satisfying, as a cost-efficient and calorically dense alternative to rice. He then strategically promoted pad thai as not only a practical food source but also to signal a new chapter for the region. Beyond showcasing the country’s newfound togetherness, Phibunsongkhram believed that pad thai would broadly promote healthy foods—protein, vegetables, fat and carbohydrates—all while putting money back into Thai farmers and economy.

In the ensuing decades marked by the Cold War, Thailand witnessed a surge in U.S. military presence throughout the region, leading to a growing familiarity with Thai cuisine among American troops. Soon after, an increase in post-war tourism sparked a further affinity for Thai food as international tourism to Thailand increased from 200,000 in 1960 to 5 million in 1980. This developing relationship between the two nations prompted the first wave of Thai immigration to the States, with many of the new arrivals—including my family—opening restaurants. 

In 2002, the Thai government launched the Global Thai Program, a diplomatic endeavor aimed at growing Thai restaurants across the world and strengthening its global economy. Under this initiative, the nation labeled itself as “The Kitchen of the World,” encouraging Thai chefs to open restaurants abroad with the support of training programs and loans. As part of this campaign, the government hoped to expand Thailand’s agricultural and food experts, and positioned pad thai as Thailand’s national dish as a formal act of nationalism. This government-backed initiative has proven successful, as pad thai is now known far and wide—so much so that the dish has recently been sanctified with an entry in the Oxford English Dictionary, cementing its status as a universally known dish.

Given the popularity of the dish, my family’s relationship with pad thai, and Thai food on a broad scale, is complex and ever-changing, as is mine personally. I’ve questioned the dish’s authenticity and impact for as long as I can remember. And as I actively challenge attempts at making a monolith of the many diverse Thai communities, I have begun to explore ways that I can make pad thai my own, beginning with my version of pad thai.

My version of pad thai is influenced by historical interpretations of the dish, as well as the varied recipes that both my grandmother and my dad have taught me from an early age. Everyone in my family has their own version of pad thai, and this one is my own. My interpretation leans on the sweeter side, with plenty of palm sugar as well as traditional preserved daikon radish that is hardly ever found in American versions of pad thai today (but that I love for an extra sweet-sour punch). I also integrate nontraditional, Grandma-taught techniques like adding paprika to my dish to give it its signature orange hue.

What Is Pad Thai? 

Pad thai directly translates to “stir-fry noodles.” It’s made with wide rice noodles and a deliciously tangy-salty-sweet sauce that is tossed in a wok with aromatics and ingredients like shrimp, tofu, beaten eggs and bean sprouts. This inherent flexibility means that there’s no one way to make or enjoy pad thai, as preferences vary. Some may prefer a saltier profile (more fish sauce) over sweetness, while others may mix up the proteins entirely. 

I prefer mine made the traditional Thai way, as my grandmother taught me, with plenty of tamarind, fish sauce, palm sugar and sweet preserved radish. That being said, to each pad thai their own. If you’re not a fan of shrimp, feel free to substitute it with a protein of your choice. Similarly, for those with nut allergies, omitting the garnish won’t compromise the dish as a whole. Ultimately, pad thai was conceived out of an era of desperation and change, and its ingredients can be tailored to suit individual tastes and dietary needs.

How to Make Pad Thai

The first step to any great pad thai is a great sauce. For me, that sauce consists of a melody of fish sauce, tamarind paste and palm sugar. Although it’s possible to substitute these key ingredients, such as using ketchup for tamarind paste, cane sugar for palm sugar, and oyster sauce for fish sauce, nothing can quite compare to the flavors of these traditional ingredients. And because the sauce can be made in advance, I love to double or triple the ingredients and freeze the rest for quick and easy preparation for the future. 

For the rice noodles, it’s important to soak them beforehand in warm water for at least half an hour—but ideally no longer than an hour, or else you may be left with a dish that is either undercooked or far too mushy. Once soaked, set the noodles aside, tossed with a generous portion of oil to keep them from sticking, while you focus on preparing your proteins in your wok. After all of your ingredients are ready, it’s time to stir-fry them all together. And if you encounter issues with ingredients sticking, it could be that your wok isn’t heated enough. Lastly, before serving, garnish with lime wedges, chile flakes and crushed peanuts.