Lately, ethnic street food in the States has felt like distressed denim. They seem to be cropping up everywhere I look, and they’re often markers of modern vogue. From its minimal menu of Laotian street fare and a relatively young clientele, Snackboxe Bistro felt unabashedly edgy, which James and I are most decidedly not. James laughed when I pointed to the extra and unnecessary ‘e’ added to the word Snackbox in their name as evidence of its hip vibe. But we were in the mood to try something new and when I spotted a large window poster pushing their fried squid on a stick, I was sold.
You should know at this point that I love fried calamari. I order it almost every time I see it on a menu because...well, what's not to like? Sweet, fleshy squid encased in crunchy batter perfectly fits the bill of contrasting textures, so much that I'm even willing to forgive the freshly fried ones for leaving burn blisters as I yam them as quickly as I can. In fact, for the past month, I’ve had a desperate hankering for an entire meal comprised of nothing but tall, icy glasses of beer and a table-sized plate of crunchy squid rings.
But there are bad calamari, usually in the form of greasy batter balls that might contain a whiff of sea as a loose nod to something squid-like. I was still recovering from such a disaster I had at a local pub, and this order of squid on a stick was the exact cure I didn’t know I needed. A whole squid was showered and deep fried with a crispy and piquant tempura casing that was only made more glorious with a shower of lime squeeze and a brief dip in sweet chili sauce.
We were off to a great start. But as it turned out, this was also the only hot dish we ordered as our meal. The curry puffs (another order-if-I-see-it appetizer) should have been hot - or at least warm - but it was enshrouded in a rather thick-skinned exterior and clearly past its hot fried prime by a few hours, so this was a bit of a disappointment.
Our last appetizer, the Khao Chee, might be best described by what I scrawled in my notes - bland sticky rice compressed into a disc with a super crispy exterior. There is apparently some egg in the mixture but it was invisible to both our eyes and taste buds, so our overall impression of this number could really be acted out with a shrug.
When the Nam Khao arrived at our table, we were both stunned to discover it was cold. It was a blusteringly frigid day and when James saw something that looked like a hearty plate of fried rice at another table, he asked our energetic server for the same. But this was more like a rice salad, with crunchy bits of coconut perfumed rice and vegetables. James, still put off by an unrequited expectation for warm food, started taking less frequent bites, while my own fork became more enthusiastic.
With tons of herbs and vegetables, I had fun with the unfamiliar and made a mental game of trying to tease out all the textures. Where was this lovely crunch and crumble between my teeth coming from? Peanuts? The chunks of charred rice? A slice of red onion? My experimental wrapping of a spoonful in a blanket of lettuce certainly didn’t help solve this textural mystery, but it boosted the freshness and flavor of the mouthful (and I mean that last word - mouthful - quite literally. I underestimated the sheer capacity of my mouth for the first wrap and spent the next few seconds engaged in the most pleasant battle between pleasure and panic that I’d bitten off more than I could chew).
All of the tables around us were crowded with small, youngish parties, and while James and I are probably just smooth-faced enough to not feel out of place, we’re definitely comfort food people. We adore huge, hot bowls filled lavishly with homey fare, so while it was fun to try a meal’s answer to a crop top, I’d say we’re better suited for something more like fuzzy feeted pajamas.
Snackboxe Bistro
6035 Peachtree Rd Suite C-114,
Doraville, GA 30360
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