The dipping sauce that comes with the minuscule, flaky triangles of hash brown is not the expected soy-ginger sauce, but is more reminiscent of hoisin or plum sauce, and it becomes immediately clear that this is no ordinary hoisin. Zhou Zhou, owner Hutong, a petite street food bistro in Beijing on East Wilson Street (which also happens to have table service), confirms that the sauce is handmade by the chef, who also happens to be her husband. “We prefer to make things ourselves rather than deliver them in packages,” says Zhou. The look on her face says something like, “I mean, why else would you want to run a restaurant?”
The sauce is subtle – not too sweet, no spice overshadows the others. His zing creeps up slowly. What is the spice mix? It’s solid to separate it, but star anise stands out.
Since the beginning of the pandemic, many restaurants have operated with smaller, more focused menus. Multi-page temptations are no longer entirely a thing of the past, but they are increasingly not the norm. I like the edited menus; with a kitchen trained on only a few dishes, these dishes can be excellent.
The menu is elementary: three frosty plates, three petite plates, two meat skewers (chicken or lamb), one bowl of rice, two noodle dishes and noodle soup as the main course. It is enough for carnivores to feel they have a choice; vegetarians and vegans will be circumscribed to edamame, salad with tofu skin, or frosty sesame noodles. But Hutong is not so much a restaurant you visit to try different dishes, but one you return to for your favorites.
The elusive (at least in Madison) rou jia mo, or “Chinese hamburger,” proves how inappropriate that moniker is for this luxurious snack – its bun is not a pliable, fluffy mantou bun; it is more solid. Don’t think about the hamburger; it’s more like a sloppy joe with hoisin-accented pork belly.
Lu rou fan, or braised pork belly with rice, is better known as a Taiwanese dish, but Zhou says it ended up on the menu because Beijing and Northern Chinese cuisines exploit a lot of pork. Hutong’s version differs from the one at Taiwan Little Eats, which combines braised pork belly with sweet pickled vegetables and cold-steamed broccoli. Here the pork is even more tender and the sauce is more like gravy. Small pieces of bok choy and ear mushrooms are slippery and piquant; a braised hard-boiled egg provides a contrast of texture and flavor, and those elusive bits of crispy shallots provide the perfect accent. The spice again has star anise at the forefront. If you love this dish, both Hutong’s and Taiwan Little Eats’ versions will likely find a place in your heart.
Other appetizers are okay — the edamame was lightly spiced; The potstickers were a well-balanced filling for the wrap and pan fried crispy. The frosty salad with tofu skin contains a lot of tofu skin, and if you like this chewy delicacy, it is even better here than at the venerable Wah Kee Noodle, where it was present in the vegetable subgum lo mein. Here it’s only marginally a salad – there could be more celery and common mushroom. It’s a subtle little dish that’s a must if you like tofu skin, but I’m not sure how huge the local tofu skin fan base is.
Dan dan noodles, a favorite street food in Beijing, are a little different here, made with ground beef instead of pork and without the numbing menthol of Sichuan pepper. The heat comes from the homemade red chili sauce. It’s less luxurious than other versions I’ve known, but pleasant – not too piquant, not too garlicky, not too nutty.
The homemade bone broth can be ordered separately or as a noodle soup, with pieces of beef (tender, but not as flavorful as the beef ribeye in donburi at Morris Ramen), cilantro, bok choy and daikon. The most crucial element is the broth, bulky and luxurious, seasoned, of course, with star anise; the piquant version is piquant but won’t hurt anyone.
Hutong, like other restaurants, has staffing problems; Zhou has stopped serving lunch until she can hire additional support. Construction at the nearby intersection of John Nolen, Blair and Williamson may cause road closures if you’re coming from the east side (tip: take East Washington and go to Wilson via South Hancock Street). There is a reserved parking space in front of the building for takeaways, but it’s also nice to dine in a narrow, peaceful space inspired by Beijing’s historic alleys – the “hutong”, which gives the restaurant its name.
ul.E. Wilson 410
608-230-6567; hutongmadison.com
Wednesday-Thursday 17:00-20:00, Friday-Saturday 17:00-21:00, Sunday-Monday 17:00-20:00
$4-16
