I am starting to realize my reviews often reveal more about my personal baggage than the restaurants themselves. Case in point: Kiin Di recently left me a complete mess, but it’s a tale as old as time for me. I have always loved spicy food, but my body has never fully agreed. Even as a kid, my nose would run at the slightest hint of a Scoville unit. It got so bad that I developed eczema under my nostrils from constant napkin friction. Sorry for the TMI.
This lifelong nasal betrayal, which also melts off my makeup, makes me a less-than-glamorous dinner companion. (I am still wary of the fancy linen napkins at my mother-in-law’s house.) And yet, I never stop chasing the fire. I say all this to set the scene properly for my visit to Kiin Di, where I lost the sinus battle – and I didn’t even attempt the highly reviewed four-pepper spice-level Killer Curry Noodles.
After four years as a cult favorite food truck parked outside Corner Bar on South Lamar, owners Panyada “Arme” Chaikantha and Bee Ruengphanit moved their operation, whose name translates to “eating good,” down the street in December into the former Mr. Natural space. The transition from trailer to brick-and-mortar means lunch hours, a new cocktail program, and additional parking, but the focus remains on unapologetically punchy Thai street food.
On a recent Friday at 6:30pm, we grabbed the last open table before a wait formed at the door. The room was already full with twentysomethings gulping beers, families negotiating spice levels, and date-night couples leaning over black marble tables. The interior is sparse: gray concrete floors, black chairs, and bright lighting. Lush greenery acts as a divider between the entrance, dining area, and restrooms, and you might find yourself brushing against leaves unexpectedly mid-bite. It gets loud – not rowdy, just conversationally intense. Service moves fast. Drinks hit the table within minutes, and plates follow close behind. If you prefer a slower pace, order in waves. Otherwise, dinner can be a 60-minute jaunt.
Start with the Pla Scallop. Raw scallops bathe in a stinging dressing with Thai chiles, kaffir lime leaves, and fried shallots. They taste clean and sweet, providing a silky base for a sharp citrus zing with an immediate capsaicin prickle. Our server issued a gentle warning about the intensity, which I politely ignored, much to the chagrin of my napkins.
The Thai Me Down is a fun Thai-taco mash-up. Buttery roti envelops caramelized and crunchy fried chicken with pickled cucumber and a swipe of spicy aïoli. The roti adds richness without any greasiness. The chicken is seasoned aggressively enough that the spicy mayo side becomes optional. For a table snack, the Ta-Bong – lightly fried kabocha squash and sweet potato – arrives steaming. It is hand food, and the tangy tamarind-peanut dipping sauce makes double-dipping a foregone conclusion.
Between the tails-on fried shrimp and the pungent chili jam, the Banana Blossom salad is a bit of a project. A composed bite takes work; you’ll definitely need your fingers for the shell. The heat is a slow burn that triggers the sinuses. Fried shallots provide a vital crunch, keeping the dish from descending into pure inferno territory.
For mains, the khao soi is a benchmark. The coconut curry base runs thick, more sauce than soup, coating long egg noodles that require a decisive bite to create a clean endpoint. The tender chicken thighs pair with crispy fried noodles that stay crunchy throughout the meal. A low, creeping warmth builds at the finish.
If you need a safe option, the Old School Pad Thai is a milder alternative. Properly cooked rice noodles avoid clumping, with a balanced tamarind tang and a lingering smokiness. It’s well-executed, if a bit quiet compared to more intense dishes. I live north, where great Thai food is an embarrassment of riches, so, truthfully, if I’m making the long-ass trek to South Lamar, I’m not here to play it safe.
The Curry Crab arrives dramatically. A fried jumbo soft-shell crab swims in a velvety, creamy egg curry with onions and red jalapeños. On my visit, the unwieldy crustacean lacked crunch, softened by the sauce. I found myself wishing the kitchen would smother that excellent sauce on something easier to tackle. The Kua Curry Beef Rib makes a stronger case. At roughly 1.5 pounds, it is too huge to tackle alone. The beef falls from the bone without a lick of resistance, and the red curry sauce clings thickly, balanced by grilled pineapple that adds acidity and cuts through the richness.
Cocktails lean playful but functional. The White Lotus blends sake with coconut whipped cream and toasted flakes. It tastes less saccharine than it sounds, closer to a horchata, and cools a scorched palate. The Austin Sour, crafted with sake and tamarind and topped with a chili gummy garnish, first delivers a tart kick before mellowing out. For teetotalers, the Thai tea is another way to beat the heat.
If you still have room, order the T.K.O., Thai-style Chinese deep-fried donuts that land surprisingly light. The dough comes barely sweet, crisp outside and airy inside, allowing housemade coconut ice cream to take center stage. Jackfruit finishes the plate with a bright, tropical note.
Throughout several visits, the service stayed straightforward, friendly, and efficient. Staff checked in about spice tolerance and offered extra sauces to go. At lunch, the room felt calm and the pacing more measured. My server apologized for not having a box big enough to take the beef rib bone home, a moment of practical sincerity that matched the room’s endearingly unpretentious vibe.
Kiin Di’s new home is restrained, maybe even plain. The walls do not distract, and the lighting does not flatter. None of that matters much once the plates hit the table. As the wait extended toward the door, I watched a couple lean over their khao soi, both red-cheeked and smiling. Someone nearby waved down a server for a fresh stack of napkins to manage the inevitable mess. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one there with a runny nose.
This article appears in March 6 • 2026.