The stainless hood over every table is the priciest detail: it pulls the charcoal smoke away so your clothes stay clean and conversation never breaks. White enamel tops, black round grills, steel bowls — everything serves a single purpose: grilling well.
The hotline counter runs along one side: steel trays of spicy fried chicken, kimchi, japchae, cakes — each with an acrylic name card in Vietnamese and Korean. On the tiled wall, a trilingual line every guest can read: heavy leftovers get charged. Blunt, like the place itself.



