Haha, brother... no, fellow enthusiast is more like it.
These days, more and more places chase photogenic décor and check-ins. Yet some old shops hidden in lanes quietly endure for more than thirty years, like secret levels in a game. 六張犁饅頭店 is that kind of old-school final boss. I had seen it back when I went tomb-sweeping with my grandmother, but this lifelong homebody loser only finally cleared the level and bought something recently.
The storefront is incredibly easy to miss, but the aroma from the steamer is basically a cheat code. Get close and it pulls you straight inside.
I bought only two kinds this time, and they launched me right off the sofa:
Pork Bun
This thing... it is legendary loot.
The meat filling comes in a huge lump and holds so much juice it feels like fully enchanted endgame gear. Bite in and the wrapper is soft, springy, and chewy, then the savory pork aroma explodes.
It felt like grinding one dungeon all night and finally getting the rare material. Pure satisfaction, off the charts. Next time I am absolutely copying the woman ahead of me and packing ten away as emergency provisions.
Salted Egg Yolk Pork Bun
This one is enormous, though a little flat, rather like my body after lying down too long. One bite and the juices soak through the whole wrapper, while the salted egg yolk smells wonderfully savory. A steady SSR-tier flavor.
It costs a little more than an ordinary Pork Bun, but for a homebody who occasionally wants to reward himself, it is worth paying for the upgrade once in a while.
After eating, I lay straight down on the sofa to replay the flavors. Today's meal out had fully paid for itself.
What a homebody needs most is food like this: no long trip outside, then a feast after getting home. Piping hot from the steamer, or ready after a quick microwave. Perfect.
