Bronze Empire’s hot pot can’t be beat
Here’s a hidden gem, in a strip mall on S. Colorado Blvd.
Some of the most come-hither cooking in Denver is practiced in places that you’d least expect.
★★★5
Pretty much everyone who’s lived here for awhile knows that, and if you’re new to Denver, you’ll figure it out soon enough. And if you’re averse to eating in restaurants that are smooshed into corner of characterless strip malls, then you’re probably not doing yourself any favors.
But if you overlooked one strip mall on South Colorado Boulevard, you’re missing out on the best Sichuan hot pot haunt in the city.
The Bronze Empire is located in the kind of small plaza that you hit up when you need cash from the bank ATM, a bag of chips from an antiquated Safeway or a torchiere from a fluorescently lit chain that sells lamps. You might find yourself here, too, if you’re on the prowl for a boba. (The boba parlor — one doorway down from the Bronze Empire — does a bang-up business.)
And despite its humble location, the same can be said of the Bronze Empire. Traditional Sichuan hot pot, it seems, has found a following in Denver, as evidenced by the boisterous groups that crowd the tables on a nightly basis, leaving behind a mass destruction of scarlet stains and spills from the vigorous burbling broth kept boiling over a camp stove.
Chinese hot pot is habit-forming, and it’s easy to see why the Bronze Empire is something of an addiction.
Vibe: The first thing you’ll notice when you come face-toface with the glass entrance is that it’s fogged with steam. That tells you you’re in the right place. The walls are painted the color of a bronzed suntan. Tufted banquettes are a soft shade of mustard, and the naked tables,
surfaced with individual burners, are offset by ornate woodcarvings and Asian artwork. The compartmentalized dining rooms, of which there are three, are conducive to both couples and masses, the latter of which slip into large crescent-shaped booths or congregate at large tables, often propped with a tall plastic cylinder of Chinese beer. Look around, and you realize that there’s a condiment bar with an infinite treasury of choices: house-made sauces, cilantro, scallions, crushed garlic, black vinegar, sesame paste and sesame oil, a variety of chile-intensive oils and pastes, fermented bean paste, hoisin sauce and soy sauce. The parade goes on, and part of the fun of the condiment bar is assembling your dipping sauce any way you please. There are no predetermined rules except, perhaps, one: sesame paste and Chinese black vinegar are musts.
Hits: There are eight different broths ($3-$4), all of which are served in individual cauldrons. The Sichuan-style broth, bobbing with hypnotically numbing peppercorns and lashed with dried red chiles, is multi-dimensional and effervescent; it’s also slightly vicious, so beware. The flavor-bombed spicy broth, equally ruddy with chiles, eschews the Sichuan peppercorns, and the tom yum soup base, the ideal liquid for seafood, is laced with lemongrass. All carry fragrant whiffs of fervency.
The syllabus of fresh ingredients — the things that you swish through your pot of broth — is huge: mushrooms of every ilk (I’m partial to the enoki, shimeiji and black fungus mushrooms); fistfuls of tofu, the best of which is the tofu skin ($3); nearly two dozen vegetables, including tong ho ($3), a peppery, bitter Chinese green that beautifully absorbs — and cuts through — the richness of the broth (and should be eaten quickly); blocks of instant noodles ($2) that channel cheap dinners in college and are pretty delicious when they’re plunged into hot pot; and a show-stopping seafood platter ($30) that offers clams, raw oysters, translucent scallops, shrimp in their shells, crab legs and glistening slabs of flounder. You will also want fresh-cut shavings of the fat-marbled brisket ($6), lamb shoulder ($9) and leg ($6), and beef tongue ($9). And you will marvel at the presentations, each plate and bowl artistically festooned with dry ice, edible flowers, greens and leaves and decorative wooden accents that double as serving vessels.
Most people are here for the hot pot, but chef Jason Ye stamps his menu with a few notable shared plates, like nicely seasoned rings of crisped calamari ($6) and spice-rubbed, salt-flecked nubs of fried chicken ($5) yielding gold-tinged shells that retain their crunchy texture.
Misses: Don’t bother with the one-note original broth, which delivers a gentle breeze but no discernible flavor, and while you might be inclined to order the fried rice ($15) — if only because it’s punctuated with scraps of Kobe beef — don’t. It’s child’s play, and you can find much better fried rice at any number of American-Chinese restaurants around town.
Drinks: The beverage scroll is relatively pedestrian: familiar Asian beers by the bottle, a handful of routine microbrews, cocktails that lean toward the sweet side and conventional wines. Hot pot begs for beer, so stick with Tsingtao or, if you’re eschewing alcohol, order a fresh coconut and sip the water straight from the well and then scoop out and eat the soft, raw flesh. It does a body good. (Plus, who doesn’t love a pink parasol?)
Service: While the servers could be more knowledgeable about the menu, especially as it relates to the broths, they’re quick to run to the kitchen to seek answers, and while they’re occasionally snail-slow with drink orders, they appear at just the right time to replenish your broth when it’s running low. They’re also happy to bring as many bowls of the addictive peanuts — every table gets one within seconds of being seated — as you can stomach, which will probably be a lot. If there’s a major quibble, it’s that empty plates, bowls and platters remain on the table for longer than they should; it’s especially cumbersome when you’re seated at a small two-top and have to resort to stacking.
Bottom Line: There are other restaurants in — and around — Denver that serve hot pot, but the Bronze Empire takes the gold. Go with friends, be daring, order as much as you can stomach, embrace chiles and take full advantage of the condiment and sauce bar. (Just avoid the fried rice.)
Price: Shared plates ($5-$6); Hot pot base and ingredients ($3-$20); Entrees ($12-$15)
Fun Fact: Co-owner Tian Xia, who’s from Beijing, graduated with a degree in media studies from the University of Denver, and during his four years at DU, he conquered more than just his major: He also devoured Denver’s restaurant scene. “I made a promise to myself my freshman year that I’d visit at least three different restaurants in Denver every single week while I was a student, and by the time I graduated, I’d eaten at more than 500 restaurants,” says Xia. His favorites? Root Down and Acorn.
Restaurant Info The Bronze Empire 1591 S. Colorado Blvd. 720-599-8888 thebronzeempire.com Hours: Dinner nightly from 4 p.m. Reservations: Accepted Parking: Free lot
Star Rating Guide: Ratings range from zero to four stars. Zero is poor. One star, satisfactory. Two stars, good. Three stars, very good. Four stars, excellent.