Hot Iron Mongolian Grill

Where: 345 Cooper Point Road N.W., Olympia, 360.753.2949
Hours: 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. daily
Cuisine: Mongolian grill, create your own stir-fry
Scene: Casual family friendly
Drinkies: All nonalcoholic beverages; tea, coffee, fountain drinks
Damage:  $7.95-$8.95

ANNOUNCER: Hot Iron Mongolian Grill in Olympia, in setup alone, is as straightforward as it gets. Get a refrigerated salad bar table complete with sneeze guard, and keep it stocked with fresh stir-fry ingredients and sauces. Secure one massive, round flattop grill and situate it in the main dining room where patrons can be enthralled watching flames shoot into the exhaust hood above as the dishes they created themselves are cooked before their very eyes. Compared to the traditional dining process of ordering from a menu and having the food prepared out of sight and delivered to you with no fanfare, the Hot Iron interactive experience is easy hands-on food fun.

JAKE: First impression is that the place is too nice to be the true self-serve, casual joint that it is. It reminds of a very clean, fancy cafeteria. Deeply glossed, dark chairs and tables are spaced well throughout the one room with the buffet at back center adjacent to the grill and self-serve drink station. Soaring, high ceilings are complemented by tastefully hung art on walls painted a slightly rusted yellow. The same man who greeted us and directed us to a table also went back, put an apron on and cooked our food. I guess you need only one person to keep the show going when people essentially wait on themselves.

JASON: The pricing is dead-on at $8.95 for dinner. Lunch is a dollar cheaper. Though it is not an all-you-can-eat buffet, a second run-through is only $4.95. You can take your leftovers home after the first run-through. I was expecting to refill my bowl many times to try out the different flavor combinations listed on a board above the sauce section. I wanted to experiment with my own sauce ideas, but I guess one or two times through is adequate. No need for gluttony.

JAKE: Are you admitting to wanting to indulge in one of the seven deadly sins?

JASON: Bite me. The bowls are smaller than at the place in Federal Way we went to in March, but I expertly crammed mine with a tiny amount of yellow yakisoba noodles, loads of paper thin, curled slices of previously frozen chicken, pork and beef along with onions, water chestnuts, pineapple, thin carrot rounds, and bok choy. Bok choy is a green leafy vegetable in the turnip family used prevalently in Chinese cuisine. The strong earthy taste mellows when cooked; leaves soak up whatever flavors are added, and the stalk remains somewhat firm, providing a great crunch along with water chestnuts. Soft veggies and meat contrasted nicely. I doused my entire bowl in fruit juice, soy sauce and oyster sauce, and plopped four bright red tomato wedges on top for color.

JAKE: It looks like you managed to get half the pan of shrimp in there, too. Jason, you are definitely the bigger carnivore of the two of us. I went the somewhat vegetarian direction and built my meal on a bed of long green spinach pasta, the taste of which was excellent, and the noodles cooked perfectly. Semi-firm tofu chunks went in next. I jumped ahead to the sauce section and dumped ginger and garlic water and sesame oil on top so the tofu could start soaking in the flavor. Next, I chose mung bean sprouts, white mushrooms and spring onion, zucchini and broccoli and green peppers. I need my crunch factor, too, and the peppers delivered. My final layer consisted of about eight shrimp on top of which I ladled chili oil, hoisin and more garlic. I was a bit bummed that all of the sauces and flavors would be mixed together but thought the taste came out a winner. It was a painful fight to get the shells off of the piping hot mud bugs (shrimp) once the food was cooked and we were back at the table.

JASON: Did you watch when the cook dumped our bowls on the grill and got to work; metal spatulas flying. “Smack it up, flip it, rub it down — oh nooooooo.” Yes, those are the words to that dirty song “Do Me!” by Bell Biv Devoe. It’s also what the cook did to our food. Man, that guy was fast. In the time it took to hit the drink station, gather our silverware, drop it at our table, and walk back to the grill guy, it was being piled on our plates accompanied by an unexpected scoop of white rice. The ledge between the big grill and the dining tables held shakers of chopped peanuts, toasted sesame seeds, Sriracha or cock sauce, and curry powder. I loaded up on the nuts and squirted cock sauce on my rice.

JAKE: You just used a 1990 R&B song with sexual lyrics to describe the cooking process that was used on our food. It’s pointless to ask, but what’s wrong with you?
Next to the drink station were separate heated containers of finishing sauces —sweet citrus mango, mildly spicy citrus mango and a scary nuclear hot option. How do I know it was scary hot? I watched idiot boy’s face as he tasted it. I’m no show-off, so I stayed clear and enjoyed my medium. Besides, I’d thrown in a few jalapeño slices for heat. After all of the spicy food and hot green tea, I really wanted coconut ice cream or sticky black rice for dessert to cool down. It was not to be. Hot Iron does not have happy endings. 

JASON: You’re just envious of my musical memory mastery and my bravery. Wait, isn’t envy one of the seven deadlies, too?