Hotpot Habits: 3 Confessions Of A Picky Hotpot Eater

Hearty and humble is hotpot, that one affair where everyone is unashamed of. Myself included, though… certain confessions must be made.

Commonly called “steamboat” for some in Singapore and Malaysia, hotpot—the it meal that hooks you alongside your party into its bottomless pot. Soupy stuff is where my stomach sits await, with little composure, because a hearty bowl may very well be the cure to my cravings. Over fire and stewing broth, hotpot is the one communal chaos where most huddle to stir the pot together.

Yet there I am, watching, waiting; others fishing for their fills, I for the broth to clear. It’s not that I don’t eat what dips and dives hotpot has in stock, but well… here are the confessions of a picky hotpot eater.

The scoop about hotpot

One scoop about hotpot is the soup base, the selections can be countless. From what is typically the light, soothing original stock, or a turn with tangy tomato, slyly sour and spicy tom yum or aromatic herbal, to the savagely numb mala, these are but the most popular pot bases.

If I were to ladle out one hotpot lesson? It’s that I cannot take on mala. I’m talking sweaty hair and a nose running for its life—just a sniff of the spicy smog and I’m on my stomach, sneezing like it’s personal. Still, it’s a huge hit among other fire-eaters; my friends, for a fearful one.

Brimmed with choice, poured without care, hotpot is beautiful like that. Bringing various picks and pokes together into a single brew, this is a meal where all bland and brass ingredients can mess about and still swirl up a scrummy masterpiece. No slices short nor bunches scant, that’s another reason to why many—like myself, hold hotpot dear.

To top it off, hotpot’s grace is that it isn’t bound to just one soup. Sure, you can have it like that, but it’s no surprise to be slurping more than a single serve. The typical cauldron seethes in twos while on the splurgier side, is where you can have a four-soup setup. But the broth I bet on? It’s the original as well as the tom yum, always. Tell me a better couple than a mild-and-wild one, I’ll wait.

The guts of hotpot: the meaty, leafy, and slippery stuff

Now, ingredients. The cuts and crunch. Just imagine a buffet with buried treasures, that’s quite what hotpot is. For some spots, they hand you neat little sets and selections; others? Total free-for-all hubbub! It’s really your shot to call. However, this is where my confession enters. Frankly, it’s a brag I whisper, about what? You might ask. That I favour noodles over what slices or green stacks the pot has to hide in its depths.

Yes, the pull of plain carbs over prime cuts. Hotpot is as communal an affair as it is a blessing to the bill, but that too counts on what’s brewing in your boil, and where you’re having it. There are restaurants who pay extra attention to their prized slices, others who steer you toward any fresh catches you can fish out. Greens are typically the partner to co-star with these meats, it’s a crunch and chew balance, after all.

For myself, on the other hand, I enjoy an exquisite twirl. Matter-of-factly, leave it to me when the springy noodles wound up a little too soggy. Battered not by bruises, but by the boil. Here my bowl sits in wait, chopsticks twitching in verve as I observe my silken strands wiggle about. Soft noodles aren’t everyone’s noodle jam, but something about how sticky it strokes is right up my slurp street. Call me the hotpot janitor, sweeping up every stray noodle—or at least that’s what I am at family dinners.

Forgive me, for I have strayed… straight into the carb lane

If you’re thinking to tell me straight, it’s been done. “Who eats carbs, and not the meats at a hotpot?” Believe it or not, that one comment hit me about as hard as when I ask why people skip carbs at hotpot. Look, even when poached, vegetables can be pretty difficult to chomp on. Let me tell you, there’s nothing more irksome than a stubborn shred in the teeth. Bright green, to boot. Hence, letting it sit and soak, barely broken down to bits—that’s the level I play at.

Somehow, it’s similar to proteins, too. I’ve no grasp on which cuts are where, therefore, those that are a touch fatty, a trickle redder, or a tendon on the loose? They aren’t cutting it. Not for me, at least. Be it the texture, be it the looks, certain meats offer more chew than I can bite, and that says something. Though if it helps, it’s more meats for others! I’d rather less waste on both the price as well as the proteins, so.

Noodles? Never the mistake. Of course, rice is more often the primary option. But noodles are my kind of bowl. Simmer it well and the bounce is out. Simmer them much longer, right as the gluten is breaking or the starchy glass is barely holding, that’s my noodle alley right there. Soft, less than springy while stocked up and soaked in flavours? Oh, it’s my time to shine—and slurp!