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I’d spent the later part of a sick day turning over in my mind what I could do to get over the poorer judgments of overdrinking on St. Patrick’s day, and all I could think about was not going into any pub at all. Avoiding every kind of solid food, supping on nothing but a single bowl of soup broth, graval, and bay leaf tea. But deadlines are deadlines, and even if mine isn’t an iron stomach, I still had to go out there and eat. 

I did whatever I could to meet a happy compromise; go on internet forums, ask around for places that wouldn’t have me gagging, wondering what, if anything, I could put in my spent stomach, until Joey offered me the evident answer: soup. It was a fantastic idea. The problem was, or so the internet food community told me, that no place anywhere offered soup as a meal all its own, unless of course you considered pho. I did. But from that, an even further, foreign convention: Chinese soup. I really didn’t entertain it any further than that, however. In fact, I had Joey and I driving around and scoping out as many places as we could before I surrendered to the thought of eating at a place that lay underground, without a sign, and built on a foundation of having you boil your own food in soup broth. Yes, I was so hard pressed to find a place that I disdainfully decided to go to a place I had been avoiding for months. A place I would have avoided for a lifetime if not for my bad judgment that led me to looking for the hair of the dog. A place I know is the reincarnation of a place I chewed out years ago. But, as Joey optimistically said, ‘maybe it’d be better this time.’

Mushu All-You-Can-Eat Hot Pot had me at a moral impasse. I’d known what it had been, and had a good idea of what it still was. Its filled dining hall meant nothing to me the nights I passed by, but the residuals of a hangover and the urge for something soupy had me ready and willing to entertain its hidden bearings, or the ragtag crew of youngsters trying to run a hotpot restaurant without a sign.
I had no qualms with the plastic leaves wrapped around exposed pipes for decoration, the Mediterranean floor tiling, the cold temperature of the room. I was surprised by the prohibition of tea. Anything remotely close to being offered was hot water. But no tea. I couldn’t even buy it. Was Musha a cash grab? A cost cutter? Either way, I would have to come to terms with the experience of feeling like a Mongol in the dessert. But hey, what was lacked in hospitality was made up for in hot pot. I suppose.

It was an interesting menu. You could pay for complicated broths, or choose from the ones they offer for free. Pay for a little all-you-can-eat, or a lot, depending on the ingredients- anyway, I’ve never any scruples about denying myself seafood, especially if it saves me five dollars. And if you really read the menu close enough, you can get some interesting additions for free. The print’s small, but they’re there. There was even a sauce cart, so you could make your own little dipping concoction; and if you didn’t have any ideas, there was a courteous plaque on the wall giving you recipe suggestions. It was actually pretty intriguing.

A spicy Szechuan and savoury pork broth were our two options, with a whole slew of options ready to be lurched: taro, yam, cabbage, curd, chicken, beef, noodles, sausage, and fungus- our favourite.

Hot pot, it seems, no matter where you get it, is never a true misadventure, especially when you essentially cook for yourself, and pay people to shop for you. That said, there are things you’d probably never know to get yourself. Or, if you’re really raw, know where to get. We were dazzled by a sweet nameless sausage, boiled in our spicy Szechuan sauce, immortalizing the convention of Chinese cuisine’s sweet, salty, savoury, spicy philosophy. And when those bits of chili and barley coated the inside of curled sheets of tofu curd- let me tell you- I was glad my lack of discretion and jaded attitude had me settling on Musha after all.

Musha (Xu Yuan Xuan) All-You-Can-Eat-Hot Pot
Unit 5 2 king street north
Waterloo, ON,
n2j 2w7

(519) 722-3612

Mon-Sun 1030am-1130pm
 
Any payment

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