You can't get authentic Thai food in Tokyo south of Kabukicho -- at least that's what the conventional wisdom would have us believe. Indeed, as with any such sweeping generalization, there's a kernel of truth to it -- as long as what you're after is hawker food that's rough but ever ready, gentle on the wallet but suitably abrasive on the palate.

However, having recently returned from Bangkok and already suffering severe withdrawal symptoms, we were craving much more than that. Squatting at street stalls and eating pad thai laced with equal parts MSG and vehicular particulates certainly has an immediacy and charm all of its own, but one we are happy to leave for our occasional forays down to Sukhumvit or Silom.

Nor, with taste buds still singing from the intricate harmonies of delicate young lemongrass, kaffir lime and galangal fresh from the market and holy basil picked that very same morning, were we prepared to accept compromised falang fare -- the kind of ersatz Thai food, arranged to meet foreign expectations, found too often alongside the pancakes and no-names on the menus of Khao San Road and the beaches of the south.