Food Review: Sublime dishes are a real treat at Gauthama Authentic Thai

Gauthama Authentic Thai is a treat. They are located on Cleobury Mortimer’s perilously narrow high street, which may well have been built in a time where horse and carts were the most popular mode of transport.

To be fair to the town planners of yesteryear, you’re still likely to see plenty of horses on the roads around the rural south Shropshire town – but alongside the high street, it’s horses and cars, rather than horses and carts.

And the fun and games with double parking and too-wide/too-long vehicles trying to navigate makes it redolent of trying to squeeze past crowds on a narrow mountain pass.

Cleobury has a number of decent local restaurants. From a looks-good chip shop to restaurants selling Indian and Bangladeshi cuisine, to pubs offering the classics, it offers decent budget/mid-priced eating, while good transport connections make it easy to drive towards Birmingham in one direction, or Ludlow in the other, for those who want elevated gastronomy.

Gauthama is probably the best in town. Well run, pleasantly designed, offering plenty of covers for diners with a separate space for those who want a refreshing Thai beer, it offers exceptional service and food that wouldn’t be out of place in downtown Chai Nat.

The service is exceptional and shows what can be achieved in relatively humble environs. When I arrived, there were ample spaces – there always are, on Wednesday nights, in most Shropshire towns. I was welcomed by a helpful guy who’d been working behind the bar, being shown to a comfortable table at the back of the restaurant and offered a menu to peruse. Drinks followed soon after while his colleague, a charming and personable man, was soon on hand to take orders. During the course of an enjoyable, well-cooked, and well-presented dinner, both returned to the table to ensure everything was fine and to my satisfaction. They were polite, well-mannered and well-meaning – both being a credit to the establishment that they represented.

Having made my choices, a dish of prawn crackers were presented. They were crisp with frilly little edges, like mini doily paper crustaceans. A small pot of sweet chilli sauce was presented with them and all were soon dispatched.

I’d intended to avoid the common mistake of eating in Thai restaurants – namely, to eat loads of delicious, deep fried, flavoursome crunchy stuff to start, then leave no room for the main. So, cleverly, or so I thought, I opted for the papaya and cashew nut salad to begin. Within a mouthful, I was on fire. Not literally, though my tongue may well have ignited were it not for the damp environment in which it’s housed. My senses were alive, like a hay field in summer that’s been rained on by sparks from a windblown barbecue. I reached for the water, then went back in. Vamoosh. Dragon time. Someone call the fire brigade, there’s a mouth that’s well alight.

Arguably the strongest and most sustained chilli-hit I’ve enjoyed/endured was at a Michelin-rated restaurants in San Francisco’s Chinatown. For half an hour after, I was giddy like a child who’s eaten too many sweets, or like a raver who’s popped one too many happy pills.

Clowning around, find mirth in the humdrum, and acting like a kid who’s inhaled a little too deeply, I spent a full hour or so dancing in the street. Almost literally. And while I was more restrained at Gauthama – lucky fellow diners – the hit was almost as intense. I’d anticipated something a little sweeter, that the papaya would be an easy entry into a simple dinner, before a more substantial main. Instead, like an insurrectionist who’s stormed a Parliamentary chamber, the starter had different ideas.

They say the best food should be memorable, that it should be transportive, that – like great drama or art – it should take you to places you’ve not previously visited. The chilli-fired salad certainly did that, though I think it was more Guy Fawkes than Rembrandt.

A short pause followed, after which I enjoyed a brilliant grilled chicken dish, served with shredded veg, steamed rice, and a brilliantly creamy penang sauce. The addition of peanuts had made the penang milder, sweeter, and richer than a typical red curry and I purred my way through a sublime main.

The chicken had been marinated and scorched on the grill, offering plenty of flavour. And while it had been a little overcooked, losing some of its moistness, the flavours were a treat. Bursting with creamy flavour, the sauce was majestic, an opportunity to sit back and admire the chef’s obvious skill.

I skipped dessert, though, given the papaya salad, something cooling and sweet might have been a wise idea. Gauthama Thai had left an imprint, however, and it was a happy one. Excellent service – stand-out stuff – allied to some good cooking and an interesting experience with the starter had made it a pleasant evening.

The dining room was nicely styled, there was a good atmosphere and sense of bonhomie among other guests and the occasion was thoroughly enjoyable.

Local restaurants that do the basics well deserve support, and Gauthama fits squarely into that category. It’s popular and well-regarded locally and with good reason. I’ll only make one change the next time I visit – I’ll either go for the big plate of fried crunchy stuff as my starter, or else I’ll take my own mini fire extinguisher.