Where:
2200 W. Alameda Ave., Denver (Athmar Park)
The Draw:
A vast array of excellent dim sum and Chinese specialties
The Drawback:
Servers are focused on getting food out fast and may not have time to answer questions about the menu.
Noise Level:
Low to medium
What To Order:
Har gow, Chinese broccoli, sizzling eggplant, stir-fry blue crab with rice cakes, XO sauce with turnip, siu mai
Price Per Person:
$30 (before drinks)

The next time I visit Harbor Dim Sum & Cuisine, I’m rounding up as many friends as I can and asking for one of the 10-seat round tables with a ginormous lazy Susan in the middle. I want to pile that sucker with an assortment of platters, side dishes, bamboo steamer baskets, and bowls of sauces—and then spin and feast. Dim sum, which translates to “touch the heart” or “point of the heart,” practically insists on the communal act of sharing small bites over conversation with your favorite people.

At Athmar Park’s Harbor, which restaurateur Bo Pan opened in the space left vacant when the wildly popular Super Star Asian Cuisine closed this past September, you’ll hardly have time to unfold your napkin before the first cart rolls to a stop. Pork siu mai (open-topped dumplings), scallop har gow (translucent dumplings), steamed Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce, barbecue pork buns, red-bean-stuffed sesame balls—say yes to all of it, even if you’re a small party. Just be prepared for leftovers for days. Also say yes to a pot of green tea, and remember to keep everyone’s cup full as a gesture of hospitality.

Once the tea is poured, reach in with your chopsticks to snag a dumpling. I didn’t see a single table without at least one steamer basket of siu mai and/or har gow in the middle. Wrapped and pleated like gifts (and at my table, stuffed with minced pork and steamed scallops, respectively), the dumplings have the heft and chew that are comfort food hallmarks across cuisines. There are other steamed and fried options filled with the likes of leek or shrimp and chive as well as it-girl xiao long bao (soup dumplings with a meatball and broth in the middle). Be sure to poke or nibble a hole in the latter to release some steam before popping it in your mouth, lest you scald your tongue with the screaming hot contents.

Owner Bo Pan. Photo by Sarah Banks

Dim sum veterans will watch the roving carts closely for their favorite dish, and for me, that’s turnip cakes—at Harbor, labeled as “XO sauce with turnip.” These spongy little puréed daikon (yes, radish, not actual turnip) squares are fried to a crisp and tossed with XO sauce that swims with umami from dried shrimp, scallop, and ham, plus heat from red chile and garlic. Traditionally eaten for prosperity during Chinese New Year, turnip cakes have become a dim sum staple. If you like the texture of salt and pepper tofu, you’ll love this dish.

You can certainly eat your fill from the offerings on wheels, but don’t overlook Harbor’s printed menu. Its many pages hide treasures like a spicy smashed cucumber and garlic side dish buzzing with Sichuan chile oil, and the mapo tofu studded with soybean curd so creamy it barely holds its shape, instead dissolving into each bite of ground pork. Every table gets the standard menu, but be sure to also ask for the orange version touting “specialty curated dishes.” A friend offered this tip, and I’m passing it along because that’s where you’ll find the sizzling eggplant and the stir-fried blue crab with rice cakes.

Read More: The 10 Best Dumplings in Denver

The eggplant is a showstopper. Two slender Chinese eggplants arrive slit down the middle, stuffed with pinkish shrimp cake, and nearly drowned in a fermented soy bean and butter sauce that bubbles like a cauldron. (At first glance, the dish looks like two giant blue-corn enchiladas topped with molten queso.) Cut off a wedge and marvel at the exquisitely chewy and springy shrimp cake, the eggplant all but melted into oblivion, and the rich, almost meaty sauce. The mellow soy bean flavor is predominant, but when we asked for more details about the dish’s components, all we got was “butter.”

Stir-fried blue crab with rice cakes
Stir-fried blue crab with rice cakes. Photo by Sarah Banks

Don’t wear your Sunday best and expect to come out unscathed if you order a bowl of the blue crab with rice cakes; you’ll get seriously messy while cracking claws and sucking meat from the shells. Briny like the sea and cut with earthy sprouted cauliflower florets and wonderfully gummy rice cakes, this is a meal for at least four. Catch the goodness of the sauce with a side of white rice.

To anchor it all, you’ll need a plate of gai lan (Chinese broccoli). Simple in appearance but never ho-hum, the verdant, crispy steamed vegetable is best dragged through the side of oyster sauce. This is the grounding reset you need between richer bites. Now, give that lazy Susan a spin and start all over.

Read More: The Ultimate Guide to Chinese Food in Denver

Amanda M. Faison
Amanda M. Faison
Freelance writer Amanda M. Faison spent 20 years at 5280 Magazine, 12 of those as Food Editor.