But a Thai restaurant is only as good as its noodles. This, alas, is the only place where Little Spice failed to completely delight. Their version of tofu pad thai ($11.95) was gorgeously presented, a heap of steaming noodles studded with scallions, bean sprouts, and chunks of golden fried tofu, served on an angular white platter, everything limned with finely chopped peanuts. A purple orchid blossom completed the tableau—it was possibly the most attractive pad thai I've ever been presented with, and I dug in happily. Unfortunately the kitchen had gone way too far overboard in the direction of sweet flavor—traditional pad thai does involve some sugar, but this was just ridiculously overly sweet. Traditional Thai cooking assumes that every eater will spice their noodles to taste from the traditional condiment tray, which, when we visited, contained phrik pom (chile paste), namm plaa (fish sauce), and phrik dong (chile slices in vinegar), and sometimes white sugar. Liberal applications of the first three could not help right the ship, and my pad thai went mostly uneaten. (The fact that this tray does not arrive automatically at table along with the noodle platter—you have to ask for it—tells me that perhaps noodles likely are not the main focus of Little Spice's menu.) On a second visit I had a very similar experience with drunken noodles with shrimp ($13.95), despite requesting when I ordered that the kitchen seriously restrain the sugar or sweetening in the dish. The house-made flat rice noodles themselves were very nice, however.