I raced down the Skytrain’s steps as I saw the red bus pull up with number 47 emblazoned at the top. I gasped as I made it right as the driver squeaked open the doors.

All the Thais stared at me as I stepped up the stairs and searched for a seat, or a free railing to grab onto in the midst of fellow sweaty commuters. The Thais were probably wondering what a white girl was doing on a bus going to the Bangkok suburbs, at 7:30p.m. when most farangs (foreigners) stuck to the Bangkok streets.

Most farangs probably wouldn’t spend an hour traveling outside of Bangkok to see someone after getting off work at 7 p.m. and having to work the next day. But I wasn’t going to see just anyone. I was going to see Dominic—my Thai boyfriend who became my Thai fiance and now is my Thai husband.

And I was going to eat some amazing pad thai.

Thankfully there was a market across the street from Dom’s quaint studio apartment that he shared with his roommate. I was usually so hungry by the time I arrived that after I stepped off the bus we would stroll to the lively maze of vendors and meander around with clasped hands and stars dancing in our eyes.

One of my favorite vendors in the market was the pad thai lady. Unlike in America, pad thai isn’t found at every restaurant in Thailand, instead its sold by pad thai street vendors. Certain vendors spend their whole lives cooking only pad thai, and as a result become renowned experts. This is why most Thais never make pad thai at home, since they can get it on the street so cheap, and it’s so good.

Her sauce wasn’t too sweet like some vendors’, the noodles weren’t mushy or dry—it was smooth and slippery and flavorful and alroy mak (so delicious). I never liked the mini dried shrimp found in legit pad thai though, so Dom would always ask her to leave it out and roll his eyes at my silly American girl ways.

She would slide the steamy masterpiece in a small styrofoam container, place some banana fronds on top and fresh chinese garlic chives and put it in a small plastic bag. Then Dom and I would walk back across the street to his apartment and have our romantic dinner Thai-style on the floor. The scent of tamarind perfumed the air as we ate, and my heart pitter-pattered as I gazed at my strong, sweet Thai man.

Hanging out in Dom’s apartment back when he was my Thai boyfriend.

As I started to yawn an hour or so after my last bite, Dom would walk me to the bus stop. We would wait together until the bus pulled up, kiss farewell, and I would climb up the bus steps back to Bangkok. As I looked out the window of the empty bus and watched him walk back towards his place, my heart felt heavy. I always wished I never had to leave him.

And now my wish came true—and I didn’t even have to leave the pad thai behind. I now make it for us in our little Austin apartment, and we still eat it romantically, now at a table, but my heart still pitter-patters.

I know many Americans love pad thai, and its one of their favorite Thai dishes, so I hope this recipe helps you make it. I learned the best pad thai methods through this awesome five part pad thai series on shesimmers.com. If you want more in-depth descriptions on this recipe, go there.

Have fun making it, and one day I hope you can get it made for you on the street from an authentic pad thai street vendor and experience it like you never had before—and fall in love again.

I was never a fan of tasteless American instant noodles—the ridiculously cheap ones called Maruchan Ramen that give legit Japanese ramen a bad name. In college I always resorted to Easy Mac for a quick meal over Ramen.

So when I saw the variety of Thai instant noodles called Mama sitting on the shelf at the one of the many 7/11′s on every corner in Bangkok, I thought, “Ew, they have instant noodles here too??”

But I forgot I was in Thailand, where even instant noodles have flavor that makes your tongue dance with delight.

I don’t remember the exact time I first tried Mama noodles. It might have been at work when one of my Thai co-workers heated some water in one of those electric kettles, opened the colorful, crinkly Mama package, put the noodles in a bowl, poured over the steaming water, added the seasoning packets, stirred and then offered me a bite—like all good Thais do whenever they have food and friends in front of them.

I never say no to trying food, so I took a bite, and smiled. It tasted just like a Thai dish I would get from a Thai street vendor. How could I have ever thought Thai instant noodles would be like America’s?

And then later I discovered my favorite way to eat Mama noodles. To boil them, drain the water, add the seasoning and whatever meat, and veggies I liked. So simple, but so good—and so fast.

Don’t get me wrong. There is a time and a place for Mama noodles, and it’s definitely not every night for dinner. This is our go-to meal when we feel lazy to cook something more intense, but want to feel full and still have that Thai taste on our tongues. It’s also nice to make if you just had a baby and are having your first dinner guest over since having that baby, which is why I made it recently.

And I discovered that you can even buy Mama noodles in the Asian food aisle at Wal-Mart Supercenter?! And they are cheap too. But usually we stock up on our Asian grocery store runs and get many different flavors. Do whatever is easiest for you, and have fun with them!