It's a little disconcerting to walk into a Thai noodle place and find sushi listed on the big white board.

In fact, the board itself is part of a curiously annoying setup. Menu items hand-scribbled in eye-catching pastels dominate a cafeteria-style counter behind which the Thai version of short-order cooks whip up your meal. But this mini lunch line/kitchen sits at the end of a short corridor. First you have to go through a bar area seemingly designed by a combined team of IKEA staffers and lounge lizards, so painfully hip that the Visa card in your wallet starts to twitch in anticipation.

After you've ordered food in the back room and paid for it, you then traipse back to a table in the cool front bar, order a drink, and pay for that. Should you decide you want a second appetizer or bowl of soup, you must abandon your perch and return to the back room. No traditional wait staff here.

Not that staffers are ill-trained or ill-mannered. Quite the contrary. You won't need a credit card, either.

Modrý Zub serves inexpensive and surprisingly respectable Thai fast food. A bowl of the ubiquitous phad Thai features hearty, almost translucent noodles, rich and tallowlike in flavor, supported by shreds of pickled white radish, sprouts, shallots and bean curd. The various ingredients add faint layers ranging from fusty to sharp, quickly subsumed into the more dominant noodle base. Ground peanuts, sprinkled lightly across the dish, add complimentary hints of charred earth. It's a grounded, fulfilling and somewhat heavy order that may require a few hours of rest afterward, particularly if you first knock back a couple of appetizers and a pivo or three.

For something with a little more kick, try one of the curries. Good curry from southern Thailand strikes like a tsunami: a few tolerable waves of heat, building to a sudden blaze wreaking destruction through to the furthest reaches of your palate. Kaeng phed kai, or red curry chicken, borrows more from the heritage of central Thailand. More sedate and vegetal, the spicy aspect begins as an almost sweet crunch, then picks up a moderate tempo before evening out to a flat, one-dimensional burn. It lingers, forcing other flavors to struggle for recognition after a while. Chicken and pineapple are compelled to surrender, fading into a sweet, hot, tart effigy of the broth. But spoonfuls of softly floral jasmine rice served on the side lure coconut milk out of its hiding place, so the balancing character of sweetness never really dies off.

Starters also follow the restaurant's theme of satisfying, if not very challenging, quick-service fare. Small patties of shredded fish mashed free of all moisture and then deep-fried (tod man pla) can be addictive if you're a fan of things immersed in hot oil. Yet it's essentially a dry, chewy mass of shredded fishiness.

Chicken kebab satay consists of four pieces marinated so thoroughly they almost fall apart with the touch of a fork. Unfortunately, the flush of gritty, arid and dull yellow seasoning (presumably store-bought curry powder, heavy on cumin and turmeric) contributes only a whisper of pungency. And the peanut sauce accompaniment has been clipped of its potent edges and turned into a listless, chalky mound.

Tom kha kung, a version of the more famous tom kha kai soup (shrimp replacing chicken), finds an appropriate vinegar bite, refusing to be muzzled by the cooling dose of coconut milk. Three insignificant crustaceans vanish into the broth, although shallots and herbs find room to shout bitter or vegetal compliments.

Great Thai cooking has an elegance, subtlety and comfort engaging to the senses. There's a pride in appearance as well as flavor, turning meals into visual treats. Modrý Zub aims low, for the comfort level. And in that it succeeds admirably. Dishes from the central region and the urban melting pot of Bangkok have great international appeal, particularly when the brazen salty, sweet, sour, pungent and spicy characteristics of a typical meal are muted.

Given the nature of fast food, it's not a bad change of pace. Sure, the inclusion of sushi on the menu seems out of place, as does the odd juxtaposition of high-school lunch line and hip lounge. Pay-as-you-go can be a nuisance, too. But the prices compensate for a little inconvenience.