In the throes of wildly vivid pregnancy dreams with my first child, I had a vision of the Sichuanese hot pot restaurant Haidilao opening a branch in Seattle, complete with the “dancing noodle” and, ideally, the manicures while waiting for a table. But in the five years between my dream and when my fantasy came true in 2020 with the chain’s Pacific Place shop, Seattle’s hot pot scene stepped up so much that the opening barely registered a blip. Four years later, it continues to improve.

A larger-than-life stuffed panda keeps customers company in the hallway of Qiao Lin Hotpot as people wait for a table on a busy Saturday night in downtown Seattle. Servers bustle by with tureens of bubbling spiced broth and golden cow-shaped vessels proffering paper-thin slices of high-quality beef. Apothecary-style glass jars decorate the walls, and a few more pandas clinging to door jams interrupt the otherwise sleek, modern decor.

Chile-scented steam mingles with a multilingual hubbub at the tables, and diners exchange friendly tips at the supplemental buffet of snacks, appetizers, sauces, and desserts. Qiao Lin, for the moment, at least, is the best hot pot in the city, but it’s a distinction that changes constantly with the rapid influx of new competitors.

Diners choose from one to three broths (and one to three levels of spice for the Chongqing spicy broth) on the pictorial paper menu, then choose what to dip in it from the long list of sliced meats, seafood, vegetables, noodles, and more. Qiao Lin’s selection sets it apart from competitors, with Japanese Wagyu A5 and American Kobe beef, long batons of celtuce, and a half-dozen types of tofu, but so does its presentation. House-made meatballs come on a tower that looks as if each shelf honors the individual sphere, sliced seafood comes laid over ice, and duck gizzards appear chopped into small flowers.

The knife-work isn’t just fancy: It ensures each item is the ideal shape for dipping into the broth. Friendly servers check in with their tables to make sure they understand the cooking process, offering tips and helping to make sure that rookie hot potters feel comfortable with the process.

At this point, though, Seattleites barely need the lessons. When Qiao Lin opened in June of 2023, it was its second location, after the original Chicago spot. Local independent hot pot stars include No. 9 Alley, Chengdu Memory, and Pipa Mountain. Sichuan chain Shoo Loong Kan plans to open by the end of the year in Bellevue’s West Main development, and the region already sports locations of major chains Haidilao, Liuyishou, Happy Lamb, Lao Ma Tou, and The Dolar Shop. The Dolar Shop, particularly, is wonderful for vegans, vegetarians, or guests with allergies, as each dipping pot is individual, so cross-contamination is easily avoidable. That welcoming to all is an essential part of hot pot, according to Jia Liao, the Seattle-based entrepreneur behind the packaged food company Hotpot Queen.

The business is named after her mother, Yongzhi He, who revolutionized the hot pot world. From her small shop in Chongqing, the heart of Sichuan’s hot pot country, He thought big. After seeing travelers from other parts of China dipping their food in hot water to lessen the bold spice of Sichuanese hot pot, she wanted a better way for the visitors to enjoy the regional specialty. She found her solution at the intersection of the Yangtze and Jialing Rivers rivers in Chongqing: where they meet, the two different colors of river flow side by side. He translated that into a split bowl, which allowed each table to dip into both a spicy broth and mild soup, creating a more accessible version of hot pot that is now famous around the world.

“Hot pot is about inclusivity,” Liao says. “People with different culinary preferences, they can sit together and enjoy that experience together.” Everyone can customize their own meal, cooking some meats or vegetables longer for a softer bite, others shorter, picking only the ingredients each wants to eat, and making their own dipping sauce.

When Liao lived in Seattle from 1998 to 2008, she felt like Chinese food was a generic term that encompassed dumplings and Americanized dishes. When she moved back to the United States in 2021, she worried hot pot itself was too niche to launch a brand, and instead used the same mala spices that her mother put into hot pot broths to create a line of noodles and sauces. Now, she plans to add a line of hot pot broths.

Liao has seen people putting more focus on understanding food in the last few years, and she attributes the local proliferation of hot pot restaurants, in part, to this. “They are more open and adventurous,” she observes. “They want to go deep into the specifics about different regions’ foods.” It’s a global trend, but she sees Seattle catching on more quickly, on the leading edge.

Hot pot restaurants also offer a practical solution in a time of high labor costs and labor shortages, she adds. The business model relies much less on the skills of a top chef, since most restaurants source manufactured broth bases from factories in China. She knows this because her family owns one of the businesses that produces exactly this for many chains. A restaurant moving into a new place doesn’t need to find or worry about retaining a big-name chef. It just needs to source the fresh ingredients and find cooks that can chop and slice them properly.

But Liao theorizes that the biggest reason for hot pot’s popularity in Seattle, specifically, comes from the climate: “The cold, rainy, long winters are exactly the same as in Chongqing, my city,” says Liao. “You just want to cuddle up with hot soup.”

The damp and chill make Seattle a hot pot hot spot, but the big difference between hot pot and the many other forms of soup popular here and elsewhere comes from the communal nature of the storied meal. In a city where the weather often takes the blame for a lack of friendliness, hot pot offers a solution with potential to warm up bodies and melt the supposed “Seattle Freeze.”