Just west of Union Square sits a thicket of dining mediocrity punctuated by some unlovable 24-hour diners and a bunch of Subways. So it's exciting beyond measure that the global chain Little Sheep Mongolian Hot Pot has inserted itself, and its fans no longer have to schlep down to San Mateo or Union City.
Anyone well-acquainted with the hot pot setup needs little explanation, but for the uninitiated, you order a la carte, choosing among various broths, meats, seafood items, vegetables, mushrooms and more, and cook it at your table. The spicy broth is exceptionally flavorful and well-suited for meat, while the saltier house broth is optimal for vegetables. (There's other stuff, too: Vinegar-y roasted peanuts come highly recommended.)
Assembling a well-rounded meal resulted in a wonderfully massive quantity of foodstuffs; cooking it all took an hour-plus and eating involved a lot of splatter, as hot pot does. Huge or not, at $60 including gratuity, this would be a pricey dish for two. Especially when, in the words of a dining companion, "It's for soup that we cooked ourselves." But four people exhibiting slight restraint could do well here, if you don't mind a 75-minute lunch.
The location is outstanding, directly across the street from A.C.T. and the Curran Theatre. But beyond muted TVs playing a show about professional gamblers in action, the rest of the interior is fairly muted as well, considering that this is a chain with locations around the Pacific Rim. It's a second-floor restaurant, and the carpeted staircase is lined with charmingly boastful photos, including the chefs with Martin Yan of Yan Can Cook, and a lineup of proud executives on the day Little Sheep's holding company was listed on the Hong Kong stock exchange.
It's pricey, it's messy, and it takes a good long while to eat it all, but upscale hot pot's appeal is undeniable and almost Eataly-esque. If you're a theater queen or trapped tourist, Little Sheep might be the best thing that ever happened to you.
Comments are closed.
