Some of my fondest east coast memories...or lack thereof...are from Baohaus, a complex simple pleasure from the East Village of NYC. A jaunty, late-night haunt in the city that never sleeps, Baohaus has all the qualities of your favorite street food; readily available, easy to eat, prices you can afford, best consumed when drunk and ravenous; while adding its own finesse.
When they opened a branch in LA, I practically flew to the Far East Plaza.
I start with my favorite Chairman Bao, their clever, practically-cult classic. A fluffy white pillow-skin folds around a slab-chunk of melty, oily, drip-grease-down-your-chin Asian-bacon. The belly is a formidable Berkshire, and a lavish sprinkle of Taiwanese red sugar and nuts makes it sing.
The Spiceland Bao sounds simple, just a breast of chicken-fried, but this chicken is anything but. A full day of brining softens the brawn, and the batter is meticulously fried to a beautiful golden crisp. The singeing spiciness leaves me wanting more.
My mouth burns pleasurably from the searing spiceland, as the AiYu Jelly Lemonade soothes the scorch with calming gelatin seeds.
Would you like fries with that? You always want Taro Fries with that. Sticks of earthy roots, sauced-up with a cup of hot & sour; this sauce brings down the haus.
I left a lot of good things behind when I transplanted to the west coast. Of all the edible things I lost, I may have missed Baohaus the most. It was easier to find an honest mechanic than it was to find a good bao south of San Gabriel, but thankfully that all changed when Baohaus came to town.
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