The night after The White Lotus – Mike White’s gleeful dissection of privilege, spiritual bankruptcy and high-thread-count death – wrapped its third season, I find myself trying to fill the mildly deranged void it left behind. Not with a yoga retreat or a tattooed Russian, but with Thai food. Specifically, the post-spa meal Victoria Ratliff orders in strangled Thai in episode two: coconut seafood soup, crab curry, steamed fish with lemon, and pad Thai. I do what any hankering fan would – I try to eat my way back in.

Which is how I end up at Chob Thai in Clontarf, ordering half the same dishes from a jade-green velour-covered seat. The waiter gently suggests we order two “just-created” specials from dishes they are filming for the restaurant’s social channels. Steam spiralling from glass noodles, banana leaves peeled back like a luxury facial.

But first, the cocktails. The saketini (€13.50) – passion fruit, lavender syrup, and sake – arrives with half a passion fruit bobbing in the foam, and filled with Cointreau like a juicy baptismal font. It’s tart and light, with the lavender on a tight leash. The wine list is forgettable, so we shift to Kirin beer (€6).

Chob Thai interior

Then, soup. Tom Kha with king prawn (€13.50) – the very one Victoria ordered in White Lotus. The prawns, which have voyaged from India, have a size that outpaces their flavour. The broth is piping hot – commendable – but otherwise mute. No zing, no snap, no heat. There are mushrooms and a large chunk of galangal, but it lacks nuance, citrus brightness, and that sweet-sour-hot see-saw you ride until your lips tingle.

Moo Ping, the pork skewers (€13.50) – well-marinated, nicely charred, skewered with intent and served with a soft, sweet Jaew sauce – are better. Just like you’d get on a Bangkok street corner. Minus the garnish. The salad is topped with a carrot slice, carved into a butterfly. Not a flourish – a calling card. Like the chef did a postgrad in vegetable origami. These crisp little monarchs perch on undressed leaves, presumably for Instagram, whispering “Help me” in carrot.

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The hot pot of scallops and jumbo prawns with glass noodles (€32.50) arrives in a metal dish – hissing joyfully. But once the fog clears, what’s left is a puddle of bland ambition. There are three scallops – pale, vaguely marine – and three prawns, impressively plump but entirely devoid of flavour. The noodles are sweet, slick and soulless.

But nothing – nothing – prepares you for the sea bass (€32.50). I passed on Victoria’s lemon-steamed fish for the chef’s new creation: sea bass in banana leaf with red curry paste. The server cuts the package open and I peel back layer upon steaming layer of banana leaf to reveal a slab of sea bass – curry-smeared, and cooked so far past submission it looks like it completed a tragic journey by barge. The vegetables have slumped into a green sludge beneath the fish. It’s a dish built for Instagram – until you open it, and realise it’s one you couldn’t even eat with your eyes.

Chob Thai exterior

And there, beside it, another butterfly carrot perched on salad leaves, once again, unbothered by even a suggestion of dressing.

We ask for dessert. And then wait. And wait. Eventually, a server appears with kanom tuay (€12) – made from rice flour, mung beans, palm sugar and coconut milk. The warm mochi is sprinkled with shredded coconut, with a coconut cream sauce to the side, topped with sesame seeds and sugar. Strawberries, blueberries and three pansies add colour – if not much flavour.

At Chob Thai, you get dinner assembled for Instagram – butterfly carrots, undressed leaves, steam theatrics – but nothing that lingers. Except the bill. It’s the sort of meal that makes you reflect on life’s questions. Like whether your chakras are misaligned, or if €32.50 is a fair price for farmed fish. And it’s then, somewhere between the coconut-strewn mochi and the pansies, that I cling to a line from Victoria Ratliff – glazed, drug-addled, morally adrift – but absolutely right: “I just don’t think at this age I’m meant to live an uncomfortable life.”

Dinner for two with a cocktail and two beers was €129.50.

The verdict A karmic misfire with prices far punchier than the food.

Food provenance Pork and chicken, not free-range, Doyle’s Meats; Indian farmed prawns; Greek-farmed sea bass; scallops, Wrights of Marino; and herbs, Asia Market.

Vegetarian options All dishes can be prepared for vegetarians and vegans, using tofu instead of meat.

Wheelchair access No accessible room or toilet.

Music Lo-fi tracks for background listening.

Chob Thai Platter Photograph: Alan Betson / The Irish Times