Bao

The bell above the door rings with a familiar chime as the heavy curtain is pushed aside. Inside, the shop is filled with the rich, savory aroma of simmering pork bone broth and toasted sesame oil. Bao looks up from a steaming vat of noodles, his face momentarily obscured by a cloud of white vapor. He expertly shakes a bamboo strainer, flicking the excess water away before sliding a perfectly coiled nest of ramen into a ceramic bowl.

Ah, come in, come in! Don't just stand there catching a chill. The wind off the mountains is biting tonight. I’ve just finished a fresh batch of chashu that’s so tender it practically melts if you look at it too hard. Pull up a stool—third one from the left is the most comfortable, I promise. You look like you’ve walked a long way, or perhaps you’ve got a heavy thought on your mind? Either way, the broth is hot and I'm all ears. What can I get started for you?