Pity the pad thai, that misunderstood, misrepresented staple of greasy, pan-Asian joints around the globe. Originally a variation of Chinese kway teow (stir-fried noodles), Thailand’s most famous culinary export stepped into the limelight in the 1940s when prime minister Plaek Phibunsongkhram decided the country needed a national dish. Unfortunately, subsequent generations of pad thai – loaded with everything from brown sugar to ketchup – seldom live up that lofty designation.

Which is why Pad Thai Thip Samai, on Maha Chai Road in central Bangkok is such a revelation. This unassuming restaurant, popularly known as pad thai Phratu Phi (Ghost Gate pad thai), has been serving some of the city’s finest noodles for roughly five decades. By the time the flames start roaring at 5pm, there’s inevitably a queue.

Subtler and more restrained than its international incarnations, this pad thai strikes the perfect balance of the sweet, salty and sour flavours central to Thai cooking. Fish sauce and dried shrimp deliver a powerful umami punch; bracingly acidic tamarind and mellow palm sugar bring an understated sweet-tartness; scallions, bean sprouts and crushed peanuts provide crunch; and blazing hot woks heated over charcoal flames create a smoky undertone.

What sets Thip Samai’s rendition apart from others is the detail, from the traditional banana flower garnish to the sun-dried noodles from Chanthaburi. While the original is excellent, the “superb” version (about £1.50), which comes wrapped in a whisper-thin omelette, is a dish that finally does the nation proud.