The bulk of Red PInn’s menu is made up of rich, hearty dishes with Slavic or Northern European origins. That means you better like potatoes—and therefore won’t see a lot of Thais dining here. But while this food is neither light, refined, nor really appropriate for the tropics, its generous portions, full flavors and authenticity live up to the promise of the restaurant’s full name, “The Red Peasant Inn.” With brick arches, red tablecloths and white haired men seated at the bar, Red PInn also offers a tad of exoticism, at least to us Bangkokians. The menu, too, is full of rare items. It has a full page of “Peasant Tapas,” which, despite the presence of stuffed bell peppers (B160) and quesadillas (B120), are really pan-European appetizers, not bite-sized Spanish nibbles. The Nordic meatballs (B120), for example, are three tasty, fist-sized, deep-fried croquettes served with cucumbers. As nearly all dishes here, they’re heavy on the herbs—a good thing to cut through the fat and carbs. The Siberian dumplings (B150) are unleavened flour dough stuffed with pork and beef. They too, see their rustic ingredients balanced by plenty of dill and a nicely acidic sour cream. The trick doesn’t always work, though. With the moussaka (B280), the chopped herbs don’t create balance—just weirdness. Nor does the almost medicinal taste in the thick gravy accompanying the braised lamb shank on mashed potatoes (B380) bring lightness to this mountain of a dish. But enough with the nitpicking; you don’t nitpick in a peasant inn. You tuck into a massive bowl of perfectly roasted, rosemary-scented potatoes topped with bits of chicken in cream (the chicken Strogonoff, B180). You order a B660 bottle of wine (they have three to choose from, you can have them by the glass for B140 and they’re drinkable). You joke about never having been so full. And you promise to return before the snowfalls.