Hop Sing Laundromat 1029 Race St. (215) 222–2363 Chinatown
Don't Miss: The Montana Payback Skip: Using your phone. $$
The first suggested searches that appear when googling “Hop Sing Laundromat” are “rules” and “dress code.” You’ll find plenty of results if looking for either, but good luck if you’re trying to find a phone number or a menu. Since its soft opening at the beginning of the year, Hop Sing has sold itself on mystique. The arbitrary rules, semi–secret location and deliberate lack of self–promotion are all there to plant one question in your head: will I get in? It’s easier to turn your own nose up at these pretensions than to actually give it a shot, but if you do so you’ll be missing out. These are no doubt some of the best drinks your dollar can buy in Philadelphia.
The Hop Sing “experience” starts when you ring the buzzer at an unmarked door in Chinatown, not far from the famous arch. A bouncer sticks his head out and motions you in like he’s watching out for the cops. Stepping inside the iron door is like entering another dimension: you end up in the “waiting” room, a large foyer with an aesthetic borrowed from the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland. You’re waiting for Lee, the owner, who shortly emerges and introduces himself, before politely but firmly laying down the famous “rules”: no pictures, no cell phones. And don’t tell anyone you were here: “This is a lousy bar with lousy alcohol,” he says with a wink.
Despite Lee’s tongue–in–cheek request, it’s hard not to sing the praises of Hop Sing’s “lousy alcohol.” The well liquors are top–shelf, along the lines of Patron and Belvedere. We had a "Montana Payback," named after the battle of Little Bighorn. A brandy (Laird’s Applejack) and rum (El Dorado de Luxe Silver) concoction, it also packs a Thai chili pepper, offset by sweet notes of strawberry and a thick layer of cream on the surface. It’s served in a dainty glass and sprinkled with rose petals, lest ye be intimidated by the list of ingredients. We also tried the "Nevermore," a coffee drink infused with Ambler gin and Patron Citronge tequila. The coffee is a Vietnamese blend, also topped with a layer of cream. The sweet but hearty nightcap left us licking our lips in search of frothy traces for the rest of the night.
At $10 per drink, Hop Sing doesn’t cater to a student’s budget. But the petite, elegant glasses belie drinks that pack a punch: one per person was enough for us — any more and we would have been heading home early. So when your pocketbook allows it and you’ve gathered a group of adventurous (and well–dressed) friends, opt for a night on the (China)town. The gothic décor and wacky protocol is at intervals tiresome and delightful, but the drinks are what will keep you coming back for more.
