There's something magical about restaurant food prepared right in front of you, from the humble tableside guacamole to the fiery drama of Korean barbecue. It was this fascination with fun eating experiences that saw Gothamist staffers trekking out to Flushing's Little Lamb earlier this week to experience another form of restaurant theatrics: Hot Pot.
Most of our crew were newbies to this thousand-year-old Chinese tradition, where raw meats and veggies are cooked in pots of bubbling broth on the table. It's said to have originated in Mongolia—many hot pot establishments, including the one we visited, identify as such—though similar methods pop up elsewhere; shabu-shabu and sukiyaki in Japan and Taiwan, steamboat in other parts of Southeast Asia.
Determined to have an authentic hot pot experience, we enlisted the help of New York newcomer Little Lamb, which specializes in—you guessed it—various cuts of lamb, though they offer all manner of other dippables on their extensive menu. The restaurant's owner, Mr. Chen, carefully sources all of his products, including lamb from New Zealand and Australia, where the flavor of the meat most closely resembles that of Mongolia. To construct the meal, diners choose from a variety of soups, meats, veggies, seafood, soy products, dipping sauces, noodles, dumplings and so forth. Where do you start with an undertaking as big as this?
Under Mr. Chen's experienced tutelage, we began our epic hot pot feast with one of the most important elements of the meal: the broth. Little Lamb doesn't cut corners with seasoning packets, instead taking care to slowly build up their flavorful stocks by long simmering different meats, herbs and aromatics. Their standard broth, dubbed the "Mongolian Herbal," is subtly flavored with garlic and green onions, lending a subtle hint of sweetness to the submerged goodies. The second, a fiery "Mala" broth, has a generous kick from lots of peppercorns and chilies, flavoring each element with a peppery bite.
With the base out of the way, it was time to talk about the foodstuffs. Given the restaurant's focus on mutton, several cuts of thinly sliced lamb were a given, plus some equally thin slices of rib eye and snowflake beef for variety's sake. Next, dumplings stuffed with beef and pork plus fish and beef meatballs stuffed with marrow-like bits of pork. Tender fish tofu balls, rectangles of jiggly bean curd and bowl after bowl of mushrooms, lettuces, taro slices and other leafy greens were a given as well. Then the offal: chewy strips of tripe and unctuous squares of coagulated pig's blood.
Once orders have been tabulated on the handy, if overwhelming, spreadsheet, waiters start firing up the crocks of broth on stovetops embedded in the tables. The broth slowly comes to a simmer, emitting a tantalizing aroma of salt, garlic and pepper; it's at this time you are warned about spattering and splashing, a reminder that tabletop cooking can also be fraught with danger. But that's part of the fun.
Though the fully-flavored soups don't require additional seasoning, many diners like to create dipping sauces to accompany their cooked foods. Little Lamb boasts a well-stocked, self-service sauce bar, where you can create-your-own special dipping sauce using soy sauce, sesame paste, peanut butter, chili oil, pulverized garlic and half a dozen other flavored dips. It's easy to get carried away—there were some notable duds in our group—but peanut and barbecue is a sure hit, as is a classic soy-sesame-chili oil-garlic. Just keep it simple and you'll do fine.
Once the accouterments arrive, it's time to get cooking. The easiest way to tackle the myriad options in front of you is to consider cooking time: things like dumplings, meatballs and taro require a longer broth bath than lettuce greens and the meats. Dump in a portion of those items first so they can begin cooking while you focus on more immediate food options. Then use your chopsticks to swish meat in the broth for a few seconds; liberate, give it a blow, then straight into your mouth it goes.
After all the dunking and soaking and swishing, the broth is likely to reduce; luckily, servers are quick to replenish so you can happily continue your meal. And though you'll have want to devour everything immediately, the structure of the meal doesn't allow for it. Hot Pot forces you to slow down and wait, a concept unfamiliar to many American diners. Patience, as they say, shall be rewarded.
So what should you keep in mind for your first—or next—hot pot experience:
- Go with a group. That way you can sample more items and find your favorites. It's also a wicked fun communal experience.
- Take it slow. Toss in a few longer cooking items and take a nibble of meat in the meantime, then hang and chat and take it easy. It's easy to get full by stuffing your face but you'll be rewarded if you can prolong the experience.
- Get the house special. We didn't have a lot of lamb lovers in our group, but nobody could deny the subtle flavor and exquisite freshness of the meat. If a restaurant does something really, really well, chances are you'll be able to tell.
- Step outside your comfort zone. Pig's blood and fish tofu might sound funky, but if you give them a chance you'll be rewarded with unique flavors and possibly a new favorite. And bragging rights.
- Eat your veggies. You'll make your mom happy, of course, but lightly wilted greens are not only delicious, they'll help balance out the salt-and-meat insanity of the rest of the meal.
- Wear splatter-proof clothing, because there's no way you aren't wearing some of your dinner for the train ride home.
Little Lamb is located inside The Shops at SkyView Center at 40-24 College Point Boulevard, Level B, (718) 359-1668
