Baohaus - Los Angeles

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. 

Baohaus - NYC

For a face, Menelaus launched a thousand ships and burned the topless towers of Ilium. For street food at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant that is Baohaus, I launched a new subset of blogposts and burned...well, I didn't actually burn anything...clearly my approach was far less heroic...and far less excessive. I wouldn’t have launched any more than a hundred ships for Diane Kruger's Helen.

When you go to Baohaus, try not to be deterred by the across abomination known as IHOP. Whoever allowed such an eyesore in the quaint quiet of the Lower East Side should be shot...or forced to drink a pitcher of syrup. Tomato, tomato.

So squeeze through the stiffly-hinged, impossible-to-open door, squish down the narrow aisle between the food prep area and the wall and order your Chairman Bao at the register. Greasy slab of pork belly between two fold-over slabs of soft steamed bao leaves nothing to be desired. Except one more bao. One is never enough, even if you get other stuff. If you don't eat/don't like pork, the Haus Bao is a beefy alternative, and there's a broccoli bao and a tofu bao to appease the vegetarians/hippies/girls too prissy to eat meat. At a whopping $3-3.50 each, just drink one less beer next time you go out. Though if you had done that in the first place, maybe you wouldn't have ended up at Baohaus.

The Taro Fries with Haus sauce are tasty and better than any potato.

If you're not feeling the Taro Fries, the sweet Baofries with black sesame or glowing green pandan glaze are a crispy carb. These little bao bites just might be your cup of tea...or box of Bao...Though why would you ever back down at the sight of taro fries?

If you're thirsty go for a refreshing sugar-water Ai Yu Jelly Lemonade or any other unique made-in-China-just-like-everything-else bottled teas or juices.

So yes, I have just compared Baohaus to Helen of Troy...and a Brad Pitt movie, in case you missed the reference. But all mythological hyperboles aside, Baohaus is the ultimate late-night New York experience. A hole-in-the-wall serving up otherworldly street food after hours is the foundation on which the city that never sleeps builds its reputation. So when there’s no drivin’, no sleepin’, and you live it up like it’s the weekend, make sure you end your weekend at Baohaus.