Hot Pot How-To

Hot pot is less a meal and more an event. Armed with chopsticks and a simmering cauldron as the stage at the center of the table, you get both dinner and a show for the price of admission. For vegan eaters, it can feel like stepping into a story line rife with conflict and little resolution, though that’s hardly the case if you stick with it. Hot pot, being infinitely adaptable, is ideal for a diverse range of diners, the plant-based among us included. Despite gaining most attention for unlimited plates of meat, hot pot is one of my personal favorite dining experiences when approached strategically.

EJ’s Hot Pot & Sushi

Overall Advice

Let’s get this out of the way: You need to speak up. Yes, dishes laid on buffet-style will be labeled, if you’re lucky, but rarely will they include all of the ingredients. Be courteous and make friends with the staff because you’ll need to ask lots of questions. Beyond knowing what’s dietarily feasible, they’ll have helpful insights on the best pairings and flavor combinations around.

Don’t try to get your money’s worth. The big ticket items will always be the meat and seafood. You’ll eat yourself to ruin on cabbage and beansprouts long before the monetary total of your meal equals your final bill. That said, weekday lunches will always be a better deal if you can make the timing work. Dinner offers are sometimes more abundant or feature more high-end items, like crab legs or lobster, which obviously add no extra value to a person of vegan needs.

Cha No Ma

Start With the Broth

The broth sets the tone for everything that follows, so this is where your vegan radar needs to be sharpest. Many traditional bases such as tonkotsu, spicy mala, even seemingly innocent “vegetable” broths can hide animal ingredients. Look for explicitly labeled vegetarian or vegan broths when possible, often mushroom-based, tomato-based, herbal, or lightly spiced. If the server hesitates when asked for clarity, treat it like a red flag and pivot accordingly. In the absolute worst case scenario, you can always ask for hot water and compensate with a heavy hand on dipping sauces later.

Cha-Ya

Build Your Bowl: A Bounty of Plant-Based Possibilities

Once the soup base is secured, the real fun begins. Think of the ingredient bar as an edible art supply store. Leafy greens (napa cabbage, spinach, bok choy, chrysanthemum, morning glory, even pea shoots if you’re lucky), mushrooms of every imaginable shape and texture (enoki, beech, wood ear, shiitake, and oyster, among others), and tofu in its many forms (silken, firm, fried puffs, and tofu skin) are your core craft kit.

EJ’s Hot Pot & Sushi

Any whole, single ingredient vegetables are as good as gold. It’s a great opportunity to try some less common options like lotus root, baby corn, bamboo shoots, taro, water chestnuts, daikon, kabocha squash, and more. For best results, select a wide range of colors and textures; variety is the spice of life, you know. Start small and pace yourself, since you can always go back for seconds, or thirds.

In rare cases, some restaurants may offer vegan dumplings or mock meats. Always keep your eyes open for new options but also read the room. If the menu is staunchly traditional, without a whiff of more contemporary influences, it’s best to stick to the basics.

EJ’s Hot Pot & Sushi

Don’t forget the side dishes! It’s a good idea to snag a few ready-to-eat items so you can start snacking while cooking your entree. There’s a wide range of possibilities here, depending on the cuisine and location, but if you can find edamame, veggie spring rolls, pickled cucumbers, seaweed salad, sesame balls, or even French fries, then you’re golden. Be wary of any kimchi or other unmarked banchan, as fish or shrimp are often a factor.

EJ’s Hot Pot & Sushi

Get Saucy

If the broth is the setting, the dipping sauce is your narrative voice. Most hot pot spots offer a DIY sauce station, and this is where you can truly make the meal your own. Start with a base of soy sauce, sesame paste, or chili oil and build from there. Add minced garlic, scallions, cilantro, a splash of vinegar, maybe a dab of fermented tofu if available. Aim for balance, thinking of all five tastes: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and umami. Taste, tweak, and repeat.

Possibly pitfalls include fish sauce, ponzu (which may use fish-based dashi), and sweet and sour sauces that may be sweetened with honey. When in doubt, leave it out.

Little Sheep Hot Pot

Stay Vigilant, Not Anxious

Cross-contamination can happen, especially in shared pots or busy kitchens, but most restaurants are happy to accommodate if you’re clear about your concerns and proactive about prevention. Ask for separate utensils if needed, and a split pot if dining with omnivores. Other diners may not be as conscientious at the buffet, so be on alert when scoping out your selections, especially if they’re situated right next to messy, drippy, crumbly, or difficult to scoop animal-based items.

Yuzu

Good to the Last Drop

By the end of the meal, your broth will have reduced significantly, enriched by every vegetable that passed through it, concentrating into a deeply flavored elixir. Don’t even think of leaving it on the table now. Add noodles or rice to soak up every last drop, turning what began as a simple base into a truly grand finale. Avoiding egg noodles should be easy; there should be a wide range of rice noodles and wheat-based noodles at your disposal, and the bright yellow sheen is a dead giveaway that those strands aren’t vegan.

In this rare instance, don’t save room for dessert. Sure, you can count on some sort of cut melons and maybe berries, but certainly nothing to get excited about. The typical array of puddings, cakes, pastries, and soft serve ice cream will all be heavily dairy-laden.

EJ’s Hot Pot & Sushi

Hot Pot Hot Spots

Austin’s hot pot scene is surprisingly robust, supporting a diverse range of restaurants from north to south. When picking out a place for vegan options, these are your best bets:

  • Soupleaf Hot Pot is the most vegan-friendly option in town. Everyone gets their own individual pots and there’s clear labeling on the menu and buffet, which makes customization feel effortless rather than investigative.
  • DAM-A: Korean BBQ & Hotpot offers an unlimited spring roll bar in addition to their hot pot features, which is something I’ve never seen anywhere else. If you’re lucky, you’ll also find sides like japchae, tteokbokki, and braised sweet potatoes to round out your plate.
  • KPOT Korean BBQ & Hot Pot is a national chain focusing on Korean cuisine. It’s big, busy, and budget-friendly, with the added bonus of offering karaoke in some cases.
  • EJ’s Hot Pot & Sushi is the newest addition to the dining landscape, fusing elements of Chinese, Korean, and Japanese cuisines all in one buffet. As an added bonus, you can sip on dairy-free boba tea to satiate your sweet tooth, too.
  • Hotpot Alley isn’t an all-you-can-eat affair and there’s only a buffet for dipping sauces. Rather, you pick out your broth and a bundled set of inclusions. That may be a benefit to the indecisive, because the Homemade Veggie Soup with Buddha’s Delight is the only way to go.

EJ’s Hot Pot & Sushi

Coming In Hot

Hot pot is designed to be a communal experience. You end up with something delicious, of course, though it’s more about the journey than the destination. Given its endlessly adaptable nature, it’s far more accommodating to alternative diners than it may seem. By placing an emphasis on whole, fresh vegetables and soy proteins, it’s also a remarkably healthy meal when it comes to indulgence. Don’t be daunted, dive right in. You’ll quickly discover just how abundant the plant-based world can be when it’s bubbling right in front of you.

Crowd Control

I can’t lie: I’m a sucker for a good pun. My sense of humor vacillates between dad jokes and caustic wit, but I can never resist a solid groaner. That brings me to the obvious need to turn crowder beans into chowder. The moment I started cooking with them, I knew that Crowder Chowder was inevitable, if only for the irresistible name.

Don’t worry, it’s more than just a fun rhyme. As with any proper chowder, the base is thick and creamy, making for a hearty bowl-in-one type of meal. Packed with potatoes and sweet corn, the crowder beans contribute an earthy meatiness, to say nothing of all their protein and fiber, without a single clam in sight.

Plenty of chowder recipes employ beans, especially white beans for their fairly neutral flavor, so it’s not like I’m breaking any new ground here. Crowder peas, however, may take some eaters by surprise this unconventional setting. Since they usually show up in straightforward company, simmered with onions, maybe a hunk of cornbread nearby, seeing them in more composed recipes could turn some heads. Lack of mainstream recognition further limits their range, unfairly, if you ask me. Anything white beans can do, the humble field pea can do, too.

Fully validated by the success of this experiment inspired by word play, Crowder Chowder is exactly the sort of recipe that makes a terrible pun feel justified. The name might make you roll your eyes at first, but one spoonful quickly changes the tone of the conversation. Sometimes the best ideas just sound silly on paper.

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He Said, She Said, They Did

Is it a controversial statement that I think she-crab soup is unnecessarily gendered? Yes, it’s true that traditionally, this coastal delicacy employed only female crabs for their rich vermilion roe, giving it the edge over comparatively lean he-crab soup. In the current modern era, however, when we’re talking about a vegan version that uses neither sex, the designation makes no sense. They-Crab Soup is the only fitting moniker for this southern staple, if you ask me.

Originally created for President William Howard Taft who was a known fan of turtle soup, an even more antiquated dish that has mercifully disappeared from menus since, this crabby variation has a lot in common with what we would recognize today as a chowder or bisque. What sets it apart is the use of white rice as a thickening agent, creating a voluptuous texture without the need to hammer in the heavy cream. There’s a hint of tomato for ample umami, the warmth of smoked paprika for depth, and the standard sort of mirepoix to hold down the fort. It’s a fool-proof combination that’s an easy win for any diner, even a president.

Specifically for my recipe renovation, shredded oyster mushrooms replace crabs of any gender with ease. When pulled apart by hand, they mimic the delicate strands of shellfish remarkably well, soaking up the briny broth like they were born for the task. A touch of kelp granules and capers lends an unmistakable oceanic briny kiss to complete the effect. What emerges is a soup that honors the spirit of the original without clinging to its baggage. Built on technique and balance, not biology, it succeeds for the same reason the original did: it’s deeply comforting and undeniably delicious. Call it what you like, but once you taste it, the argument feels beside the point.

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Ramen Revelry in Austin, Texas

Few dishes inspire such fanatic fervor as ramen. Combining noodles with soup is hardly revolutionary, and yet the Japanese specialty is the only example I can think of that has driven people to upend their entire lives on a quest to find and eat the best, or the pursuit of making their own, seemingly at the drop of a hat. Ramen made sense to unadventurous Americans long before “sushi” ever entered into everyday vernacular, captivating eaters from all walks of life. Everyone seems to share the same memories of eating ramen in their broke college days, still carrying a place for the dried noodles in their hearts well into adulthood.

Ramen continues to seduce diners across the world, only gaining in popularity year over year. Now, there are so many places to get not only passable, but excellent ramen that considering a comprehensive roundup became a truly daunting task. Even when you narrow down the criteria to Austin restaurants with vegan options, you may be surprised at the breadth and depth of unique variations you’ll find. Ranging from traditional to wildly creative fusion, thin noodles to thick, wholesome to downright decadent, the question isn’t, “do you want ramen for dinner?” but, “what kind of ramen do you want for dinner?”

What Came First, the Noodles or the Broth?

Trying to untangle which component is more important to making the best ramen is truly a fool’s errand. With such a simple composition, both carry equal weight. So, what makes the best ramen? It’s the combination of both, working in harmony together, neither one outshining the other. Toppings are interchangeable, spice is a matter of personal preference, but noodles and broth are indisputable.

  • Noodles: Ramen noodles are distinctive from other forms of pasta thanks to the inclusion of kansui, an alkaline solution that imparts a distinctive springy, chewy texture. The strands can range from angel hair-thin to udon-like in thickness, they can be round, flat, or squared off at the edges, they can be long or short, but no matter what, they must have that characteristic bite. Rarely, and not traditionally, egg may be included in more American-style noodles, so it’s wise to always double-check before ordering.
  • Broth: Traditionally made by simmering bones, aromatics, and seasonings for hours to extract deep umami and richness, this layered, savory foundation completely transforms the flavor of each bowlful. Classic styles include shio (salt-based, light and clear), shoyu (soy sauce-based), miso (fermented soybean paste for a hearty, earthy taste), tonkotsu (pork bone broth, creamy and rich), and paitan (same as tonkotsu, but with chicken). This is the biggest stumbling block for non-vegan restaurants, who often swap it with wan vegetable stock, lacking the depth and punch that the genuine article is known for. Kombu or wakame (seaweed), shiitake mushrooms, miso paste, soy sauce, roasted vegetables, and sometimes nuts or seeds can be used instead to draw out plant-based umami that’s every bit as compelling.

The Best Vegan Ramen in Austin

When I set out to find the best renditions of this beloved Japanese staple, I knew I had a task and a half ahead of me. Finding so many options scattered across the full length of the city is great problem to have. You’re never too far from your next great bowlful. Here’s my cheat sheet and personal assessment to help guide your ramen cravings.

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Kreplach with Chutzpah

Pronounced with enough force, kreplach sounds like a Yiddish curse at best, and an old man hacking up a lung at worst. Say it with your chest and really draw out the “ach” to hear what I mean, and possibly scare your neighbors while you’re at it. Resolutely the stuff of Old World sustenance, they’ve slowly faded into obscurity, overtaken by myriad adjacent dishes.

Some take offense to the comparisons, indignant that such a righteous and deeply meaningful food could be lumped into the same category as most generic frozen meals, but let’s be real: they are like Jewish wontons, pierogi, ravioli, manti, pelmeni, or just about any other dumpling that springs to mind first. Take a thin sheet of flour dough, wrap it around a basic filling of chicken, potatoes, mushrooms, or beef, simmer it in soup or pan-fry, and you have your holy kreplach.

Stuffed With Meaning

Symbolism is almost as important as flavor when you talk about the history of kreplach. Reserved for special occasions, they’re most likely to reemerge for Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Purim. In accordance with the former two holidays, the filling is sealed, just as our fates are said to be sealed in the book of life, or possibly shielded from judgment. Purim, viewed by some as a Jewish version of Halloween, is where things get more interesting.

Triangulated Trials

Just as Esther concealed her identity, and children today don costumes and disguises, the filling is hidden between the thin layers of dough. On this day, kreplach are folded into triangles, mirroring the shape of hamantaschen which also mimic the three cornered hat worn by Haman. They’re little pockets of joy made from the most humble stuff, finding beauty in the commonplace, the mundane, the everyday. It’s the time and labor that make them truly special.

Labor of Love

To that end, yes, you could make shortcut kreplach by using wonton skins instead of homemade dough, but that rather defeats the purpose to me. You might as well buy any old ready-made dumplings at that point. The dough, rolled out thinly, has a more distinctive bite, more resistance and weight, which can’t be replicated by anything other than the genuine article. Traditional renditions are egg-heavy, though that’s nothing a little aquafaba can’t fix. Feel free to prep this well in advance, since it can keep for up to a week in the fridge. It’s easy, not quick.

Souped or Sautéed

When I think of kreplach, I think of gleaming little triangles swimming languidly through light, golden broth, intermingled with a few coins of tender carrots. They can also be served dry, pan-fried, often laced with caramelized onions. If you were to take the potato stuffing route, you know how well that works for pierogi; I’d be sorely tempted to serve them with a side of vegan sour cream to complete the picture.

Today’s Kreplach Legacy

Don’t let kreplach die out. Yes, there are plenty of close cousins hailing from Europe and Asia alike. Perhaps no one would even realize if they make an Irish exit. My favorite foods, however, come with stories. Tradition, intention, and symbolism have branded kreplach as their own unique, wholly irreplaceable entry to the culinary canon of all dough-swaddled savory morsels. There’s never been a better time to try a taste of history than the present day.

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Noodles You Should Know: Yen Ta Fo

As pungent as it is vibrant, there’s no mistaking yen ta fo. Known for their unearthly pink color, these eye-catching noodles are an arresting sight, luminous bowlfuls of broth in night markets across Thailand. So bold that it borders on theatrical, yet its origins are anything but artificial.

From Teochew to Thai

Yen ta fo (เย็นตาโฟ) is Thai street food at its best; a riotous mosaic of contrasting textures and tastes. Soft rice noodles, ranging from delicately thin vermicelli to luxuriously wide sen yai, bathe in that unmistakable pink soup, introduced through a curtain of steam. Its origins are somewhat of a collage as well, owing much to its Chinese roots, brought over by Teochew (Chaozhou) immigrants to Thailand. The name itself comes from the Chinese dialects, with “yen” meaning red or pink, and “ta fo” derived from “dou fu” (tofu).

Pretty in Pink, Funky in Flavor

The tofu in question is the single most important part of the dish, the defining factor that imparts that unforgettable rosy hue. Fermented bean curd, preserved with salt, rice wine, and chilies, melts into the broth with a slow-building intensity that lingers in both color and flavor. Its pungency is complex, funky and brash, but also surprisingly mellow when simmered. Some unscrupulous vendors enhance their soup with food coloring, though such shenanigans are wholly unnecessary when working with the genuine article.

Build Your Bowl

What goes into the bowl after that is part tradition, part personal preference. Most renditions begin with the usual suspects of Thai noodle soup, such as airy tofu puffs, tendrils of morning glory (water spinach), mushrooms (most often wood ear, AKA black fungus), wonton chips, and crunchy fried garlic. Historically a seafood-focused dish, the standard build would usually feature various fish balls, squid, sliced fish cake, or the occasional pink-tinged crab stick, though fully vegan versions aren’t too hard to come by.

Season and Slurp

Yen ta fo isn’t meant to be perfectly balanced out of the kitchen. Like many Thai noodle soups, it arrives awaiting your hand at the condiment station. Here, you can fine-tune the experience with a splash of vinegar for brightness, a touch of sugar to amplify the sweetness, chili flakes or chili oil for heat, and a dash of vegan fish sauce for that crave-worthy hit of umami.

Pink of Perfection

For all its flamboyance, yen ta fo is an everyday dish, which is a large part of its appeal. Accessible, affordable, and ubiquitous across Thailand’s markets and food courts, all the locals know the marvels of yen ta fo. It rarely makes its way to Western menus, perhaps because of its peculiar color or its potentially polarizing flavors. That’s a real shame, because yen ta fo is a real sensory delight in its juxtapositions; dressed in neon pink but grounded in deep, savory flavors, its beautiful chaos in a bowl.