This is the guy you see everyday but know nothing about. The guy who's job it is to know if you're lactose intolerant. The guy who can look at you at 7 in the morning and decide whether you'll need a double or a triple shot. This is Randy. This is your Barista. Or, is it Baristo?
We met Randy at his favorite restaurant, Toi on Wilshire. A.K.A. Toi Rockin’ Thai, on a Tuesday night around 7:30. The place was nearly empty minus a group of tweens parked in back. A traditional Thai rickshaw dressed in blinking Christmas lights sat in front. (May?!) The walls were covered in posters of the typical musical idols of our past and present, and lanterns covered in Thai characters hung from the rafters.
No longer wondering why its AKA is “Rockin Toi Thai,” we joined Randy in a booth beneath Jim Morrison and John Lennon and cracked our menus. With Randy’s appetizer recos we ordered a first course with a Thai woman wearing pleather boots and a bottles worth of black eye liner, (Another Rockin’ Tribute) And though she probably knew every word off Antichrist Superstar, she wasn’t exactly well-versed on the menu. But after a few games of charades and a healthy amount of menu pointing, our app order was in.
While we awaited their arrival, our conversation turned into a Santa Monica history lesson. Turns out, Randy was born, raised and never left or plans on leaving the (310). Say what you will, but this man knows everything there is to know about SM, first hand.
For instance, we all know of the Z-boys. Well, Randy knows the Z-boys. He spent his youth in empty pools and on pacific breaks with the original Dogtowners. This guy lived on the west side when it was still a gang sign. When the 3rd Street Promenade was the murder capital, not the tourist capital. He even told us about barley living through the coastal quakes of the 1960s, when his entire bedroom wall ended up in the middle of the Wilshire.
Sadly, Santa Monica Story Time came to a close when the Saigon Spring Rolls and Mixed Tempura arrived. The traditional Vietnamese spring rolls were the better of the two so-called Thai apps. They came with a threesome of dipping sauces (spicy mustard, a soy-based something and sweet-and-sour) tasted like they came from a plastic packet with a panda on it.
And the Tempura was more Bloomin’ Onion. than lightly breaded, lightly fried tempura. But hey, you know what tastes good? Anything fried. And in this case, triple fried.
After eating our appetizers around the menus still in hand, our server (and I use that term loosely) returned to take our entrée orders. We chose Randy’s three favorites: Pad Cui, Green Curry with Brown Rice and Pineapple Fried Rice.
From then on, we had PLENTY of time to discover even more interesting finds about our barista. Like the fact that Randy’s working on a nursing degree at Santa Monica College and has six brothers and sisters. Interesting right? Well, it was until we hit the goddamn mother load. Turns out Randy spends his Saturdays in jorts and a tank top on the Venice boardwalk. Roller skating. To. Disco. That’s right. He’s one of these guys:
And reacting to the look on our faces he said...“Anyone can do it. Feelin’ the music is your membership."
After what we could only imagine was half an hour of cutting herself just to feel, our waitress finally arrived with the entrees. The Pad Cui, which was actually spelled wrong on the menu (Pad Cwi), was prepared, for lack of a better word, correctly. It had broccoli, bell peppers, beef, flat noodles, all tossed in the standard black soybean sauce. Think of what Pad Cui tastes like…that’s what it tasted like.
The Pineapple Fried Rice with Shrimp, our second non-Thai dish of the night, was not good. This vintage Chinese copout was flavorless and gummy. And we especially liked how they threw a handful of mixed nuts on top, disguising it as a royal Thai dish. It wasn’t all bad, though. Unlike most places, they didn’t stiff on the shrimp, which were good-sized and well cooked.
Last, and definitely not least, was the Green Curry was where it’s at. The balance of spicy curry and sweet coconut was right on and the vegetables were cooked to perfection. Even the eggplant, which is so often a mushy mess gripping onto a purple strip, was excellent.
And the happy accidents kept coming when our princess of darkness forgot to bring the brown rice to help soak up the soupy goodness. And instead brought a bowl of black jasmine rice. And though it looked like a nest of large, purple weebles, it turned out to be her best F up of the night. It complimented the curry beautifully and was, hands down, the best part of the meal.
Over dinner, we couldn’t help but grill Randy about the ins and outs of being a barista. We learned about 5 am robberies, crazy bums throwing scolding hot coffee in his face, and a millionaire that works next door, who brews his own coffee, and comes over for a free doctoring of milk and sugar. And because Randy works in Santa Monica, he has the pleasure and in Harrison Ford’s case the displeasure, of serving various celebs their morning jolt.
Hillary Swank pops in for a double non-fat dry (like her sense of humor) cappuccino, while the Rock likes a weak Sumatra blend. And as for the Harrison Ford… Randy tells us, “He’s the biggest asshole I’ve ever served.” Guess the prick showed up smelling of booze at 8am, and told Randy he should get to cleaning the bathrooms. OUCH. So, in Randy’s defense…
Finally, after three courses of rice, we settled on a dessert: Sticky Rice with Mango. It wasn’t a hard choice seeing as how it’s Toi’s only desert. It was actually quite good. The rice was slightly sweet and not too sticky, and the mango was fresh and ripe, to make the perfect pairing.
We ended the night asking Randy if he'd like a cup of coffee to wash down dessert. He humored the thought, but then declined. Just like we'll do next time we're asked back to Toi.
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