Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Your first clue that these aren’t the ramen noodles of your dorm-room memories hits you a good five or six seconds before the bowl lands in front of you. Wafts of anise and warm spices from five-spice ground pork float across the room in advance of the server, complemented by the lemony-parsley aroma of fresh cilantro rising from the steaming broth.
Actually, your first clue probably came when you saw Hiro Asian Kitchen’s interior, with knotty-pine booths, handmade reed-sculpture fixtures, shiny orange- and olive-lacquered soup bowls recessed into the walls. If you had any of these in your dorm room, you went to a much nicer college than I did.
Hiro migrated from its original perch in the Delmar Loop to Washington Avenue’s Loft District several months ago. It marks another evolution of the various incarnations of owner Bernie Lee’s dining–and–hangout spot 609 Restaurant & U Lounge. The bar element is still in evidence downtown, but it’s self-contained within the same high-ceilinged space as the restaurant. The interior also retains the mezzanine and elevated DJ station that dates at least to the previous occupants, Solace Cafe & Wine Bar and Sugar Lounge, Kyo, and possibly the pioneering Tangerine. That means there might be a pulsing, electronic beat to accompany your meal. But even if that’s not your preferred musical style, it’s worth wandering through the menu’s flavors, visuals, and aromatics.
The house ramen—whose $15 price tag is the final evidence of little correlation to your college days—is made with fresh wheat noodles. In addition to the ground pork and cilantro, its broth is adorned with a split hard-boiled egg, green onions, celery, and a chunk of braised pork belly.
The eclectic menu also includes a seafood-based spicy laksa ramen and several fragrant rice dishes, as well as a half-dozen more elaborate entrées. Among these is the chicken claypot, building its aromas from a reduction of soy sauce, sesame oil, rice wine, ginger, and basil. The meat includes a cleavered leg and thigh, allowing flavors from the marrow to enhance the sauce.
The 10 items that compose the menu’s “To Share” section can serve as appetizers, or you can order several for a small-plates meal. Pork-belly gua bao includes three fluffy, steamed buns resembling the animated mouths from Yellow Submarine. They’re stuffed with slices of pork belly and dressed with pickled mustard greens, cucumber slices, and cilantro.
Lotus leaf–wrapped sticky rice also contributes to the aromatics. Smoky, sweet, and spicy aromas rise from the smoked tofu, sausage, chicken, and julienned shiitake that flavor the rice. Chicken pot stickers and lobster rangoon are dolled-up versions of the Chinese-carryout standards, the pot stickers liberally stuffed with chunks of chicken breast and sauced with citrusy ponzu. The rangoons are served as overstuffed cylinders, cut on an angular bias.
Your final clue that you can still be your younger self, but with greatly matured taste buds, comes on the dessert menu, where the funnel cakes of your youth appear with green-tea ice cream, grown up with you, just like the ramen. If you found these on a midway, you went to much nicer carnivals than I ever did.
1405 Washington
Downtown
314-241-4476
Lunch Mon–Sat, dinner daily
