My family definitely has a thing for steamboats. So much so that we have unanimously decided to have our Christmas lunch at Imperial Treasure Steamboat while others tuck into turkey and stuffing.
I keep thinking there has got to be more than the provisions that draw us in. Sure, you can get the best ingredients like the wagyu and the what-have-yous, but it is, after all, just raw ingredients dunked into hot broth, no?
Perhaps steamboats are perfect for our hot-headedness. We can all choose what we want to have, when we want to eat it and heck, how we even want it cooked. We can easily chase away grievances with a dunk and swish. It is hard to bear grudges after a bowl of broth has been bubbling away and thickened over the past hour. Apart from an occasional runaway meatball, there really isn't a clash of needs and preferences.
Our version of Chicken Soup for the Soul, I guess.
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