Hotpot in the City

Running Wild and Looking Pretty

Yesterday, I took my mom downtown to the Shin Kong Plaza, where my favorite hotpot joint, aptly called Hotpot Paradise, sits on the 6th floor next to the world-famous Din Tai Fung, soon to be another post.

I love the hotpot life! It is seriously such a gastronomic routine in China, or at least Beijing, that the word is compounded--i.e., we say hotpot, not hot pot. (Not Hot Pot should be the name of every other restaurant!)

Hotpot Paradise gets my repeat business because each customer gets her own bubbling cauldron. (After all, sharing is for chumps.) You have a choice of broth--mushroom, pork tea, Thai hot and sour, etc. And what you toss inside said broth is found on the pages of a hardcover menu: every meat imaginable (ranging wildly in prices), exotic veggies, tofu, etc. The sine qua non is the dipping sauce, a pungent, thick sesame paste into which you add scallions or chili oil depending on your pleasure. Mom tweaked it with lemon juice, ignoring the bemused looks of waiters everywhere.

Hard to get wrong, easy to make right. When I asked my young student Howard earlier this year why hotpots were his favorite thing to eat, he eloquently answered: Well, you just boil everything and then put it in your mouth.

Amen