All eight components of a Burmese tea leaf salad, lap pat dok, arrive precise and orderly. Each is on its own lonesome, waiting to mingle with its plate partners. Even the lemon wedge on the side rests on its own untouched, waiting to be juiced, complete with juicer. Yes, this is a still life Cezanne-style except way more captivating than a single apple.

A Burmese tea leaf salad isn’t really a salad in the traditional American sense of lettuce and assorted grocery-store vegetables. A Burmese tea leaf salad ties in many elements — crunch, spice, bitter, sweet, fragrant — through its length ingredient list. And Burlingame’s Mingalaba shows just why a tea leaf salad is always a must-order at Burmese restaurants.

I’m not sure why the two best known Burmese salads require rigid, orderly, multi-dozen ingredient appearances. The 18 ingredient rainbow salad has more parts than the visual light spectrum. Not as extensive a roster but equally captivating, the tea leaf salad ($11.95) echoes the theme with eight ingredients. In their own positions, the plate is covered with dried shrimp, tomatoes, split yellow peas, sesame seeds, (too many for the proportion) peanuts, powerful fried garlic, cabbage, and imported tea leaves so finely diced they make confetti bits seem large. Then on cue, your server squeezes a significant amount of fresh lemon juice over the dish then spends about 45 seconds tossing everything left and right, top to bottom, with the suave air of the tableside tossed salad to open every meal at The House of Prime Rib. This is grand dining full of pomp and circumstance minus the suit and tie — and Napa Cabs and hunks of medium rare prime rib.

The flavors of the tea salad arrive in waves — first you’re focused on textures with the peanuts and dried peas demanding immediate attention. Then a blast of heat from jalapeños and barely visible green chili peppers the size of fire ants, succeeded by the funk of crispy garlic, followed by a sweet, juicy burst of slivered cherry tomato. Next you pucker from the lemon juice and get an adrenaline jolt from the tea leaves’ caffeine. The give and take continues and continues, no two bites are ever alike. It’s the perfect crescendo into the flagship dish of Burma, moo hing nga ($11.50). While tea leaf salad sounds entirely exotic and thrilling, catfish chowder, at first, is no eyebrow raiser — think of it this way, if tea leaf salad is your first teenage love, moo hing nga is your best friend. It’s the soothing antidote that brings you back down to sea level.

Mingalaba’s version of what is actually considered a savory breakfast item, is the best I’ve found on the Peninsula and competes with versions from some of the venerable kitchens in the City. The moo hing nga appears rust colored, with very basic in garnishes and is topped with dried yellow peas. Take the thick spoon and get going because you can stop savoring the thick, yet, not heavy, coconut milk-fortified broth with flaky catfish morsels, the allure of lemongrass and ginger notes, and slivered hard boiled eggs share space with a clump of soft rice noodles that are the thinnest species of noodles you’ll find. Thick, wavy al dente pasta noodles these are not. A side bowl of lemon slices and cilantro raise the intrigue factor a few notches. No matter how you choose to go about enjoying the bowl, it’s a beautiful mix of brightness and wholesome comfort. The bowl empties faster than you’d like.

At eight years old, the restaurant doesn’t pre-date the City’s Burma Superstar, but Mingalaba is certainly the established mentor on the Peninsula Burmese scene with the popularity and wait times to go with the title. Palo Alto, San Mateo and San Carlos just opened their debut Burmese restaurants in the past year, at least in small part because of Mingalaba.

The name “Mingalaba” means both a greeting and farewell, kind of like “Aloha” fills every salutation in Hawaiian. Following suit, the restaurant is a welcoming, approachable destination where servers don’t hesitate to point out their favorites if you want a real, unique experience and the user-friendly menu makes sure the Burmese standards are noted with a symbol that helps those who have never been to a Burmese restaurant and learned beforehand the joys of its light, vibrant cuisine with elements of Thailand, India and China.

Now that Burma itself is gaining popularity for travel from diplomatic tensions being relaxed, the tea leaf salad and moo hing nga always make me seek my frequent flyer cards and seriously consider the 18-plus hour flight to the country. Or, I’ll just make another drive tomorrow to Mingalaba for another tea leaf salad ceremony with a mango lassi on the side.

1213 Burlingame Ave., Burlingame; (650) 343-3228.