Some restaurants are simply blessed with the necessary feng shui to provide the perfect setting for informal celebrations of the close-knit kind. Lim Kwong Meng (a.k.a. “the 1999” restaurant) is one of those places. Situated on the outskirts of the Sam Yan market area, this unassuming two-story shophouse offers the sort of Chinese food typically created by the well-entrenched Chinese community in Thailand: heavy on the spices and easy on the glutinous muck commonly featured at more expensive or authentic venues elsewhere. Instead, shoppers exhausted after a wrangle with the durian vendor can vie with hungry party-goers for some of the best seafood in town, replete with some Thai flourishes borrowed from the locals. A simple plate of boiled, fresh shrimp comes with a fresh green chili and lime dipping sauce. Bits of crab plucked fresh from the sea are generously seasoned with black pepper. More traditional Chinese dishes also cut down on the mainland pomp while managing to satisfy almost as easily: a roast suckling pig—basted to a mahogany sheen and prickly with crisp squares of flesh—is accompanied by a plethora of sauces including a fish sauce studded with garlic and chilies and strips of white bread. After the squares of skin are devoured, the kitchen can serve up the remaining meat deep-fried with garlic, for a dish with a deep, almost gamey aftertaste, or grilled, which is less common (and we prefer). Silky slivers of abalone are flash-fried and accompanied by Chinese broccoli and mushrooms. A poached cold whole fish arrives enmeshed in its own gelatinized fat and accompanied by deep-fried strips of its skin for fun dipping pleasure. And like any good Chinese host, Lim Kwong Meng offers the sort of carbs at the end (noodles or rice, take your pick) that could fill the tummy of any ravenous diner still in search of that extra something at the close of the meal. A good choice: yellow, curly noodles fried with bits of ham and chicken that offer a taste of luxury at an especially tasty price. But while consistently good, don’t expect much flair with your seabass. The bare-bones décor and ample shouting from the kitchen could scare away any couple looking to sneak off for some romantic together time, while overseas guests may be intimidated by waitstaff who speak only minimal English and who do not appreciate their shiny credit cards. Grab a table downstairs, if you can, as you’ll be within view and earshot of the helpful and better-informed matriarch. Otherwise expect any sort of lively debate at the table in front of the poor waiter to result in a furrowed brow and unexpected dishes. Luckily, at Lim Kwong Meng, few choices can steer you wrong.
