Shameless eavesdropping during my first lunch at E-Jae Pak Mor indicated that literally every customer inside this new Thai spot in Chinatown–International District found this place on TikTok. Including my own dining companion, who was visiting from Southern California and became entranced by videos of fragile rice-flour skins being folded around fillings.

This tightrope-walking technique produces translucent dumplings with a rippling exterior that resembles a seashell crossed with an avant-garde cabbage roll. They’re known as pak mor, a dish seldom seen in stateside Thai restaurants because its preparation is slow and painstaking.

TikTok love aside, this casual little counter in the Publix building puts out dishes with flavors that fit together like the grooves on a vinyl record. The menu is concise, but everywhere you turn, co-owners Pum Yamamoto and Tom Yalodom pull out small moments of discovery, like a beef noodle soup that pops with tartness and heat to my new summer beverage jam: an iced tea that replaces condensed milk with lime juice.

Colorful plastic stools, sheets of brightly colored corrugated metal, and a generous helping of neon (both the lights and the general color scheme) simulate night market energy in an otherwise sterile space that mostly serves lunch and closes by 8pm. A screen near the counter plays a hypnotic video of dumplings being made. “Pak mor” loosely translates to “top pot,” not to be confused with Seattle’s hometown doughnut chain. Yamamoto imports a special fabric from Thailand that gets stretched atop a pot of boiling water. Steam rises up to turn that fabric into a sort of gauzy griddle, and to turn rice-flour batter into a delicate dumpling skin. A cook must know the precise moment to fold that skin, repeatedly, around the filling to form a dumpling.

The house specialty, pak mor yuan, is filled with a mix of ground chicken and herbs that’s almost too distinct and flavorful to hide inside a dumpling. It becomes a fully composed dish when you introduce the heroic green dipping sauce, made with mint, cilantro, and lime. I was a bit more skeptical about the version made with crab stick, but it’s a perfectly pleasant option for anyone not into meat.

Another item on the menu’s pak mor section, guay tiew lohd, uses that same steaming technique to produce thick, chewy noodles rather than dumplings. When I ordered it, the lovely lady working at the counter exclaimed, “You’re getting the good one!” She was right. Those noodles wind themselves around rich pork, bean sprouts, and layers of five-spice, fresh herbs, and savory dried shrimp—not to mention that green sauce.

Yamamoto, a voluble storyteller who cooks in a baseball cap and apron, arrived here from Thailand in 2008; she’s spent most of her tenure in Seattle cooking in the Uwajimaya Food Hall. Before she had a driver’s license, Yalodom used to chauffer her around to visit potential sites for a restaurant of her own. She even considered a place in Florida. Instead, she ended up maybe 100 feet away from her longtime workplace, in a former Great State Burger location.

In Thailand, says Yalodom, pak mor is everywhere. “But you have to go to the real street market. It’s not going to be in the department stores.” In Seattle, Yamamoto started making it to satisfy the cravings of a pregnant friend who missed her favorite dish from home. She struggled. “I’d never tasted a good one before.” Back in Thailand she didn’t have enough money to frequent street food stalls. Her early versions were never right. Then her friend’s grandma came from Philadelphia and imparted some techniques.

Yamamoto originally launched E-Jae Pak Mor as an online-order business for homesick Thai natives (“E-Jae” means older sister). The dumplings at the restaurant are slightly larger than what you might find in an actual night market, both for expediency and because customers in the area prefer a full-on meal rather than street-style snacks.

Pak mor might be the signature dish, but honestly? The familiar Thai staples evoke just as much excitement (not to mention TikTok action). The kitchen makes a blockbuster khao soi and a solid khao mun gai. Notably, and intentionally absent: pad thai.

The neighborhood doesn’t have a deep roster of Thai restaurants, but after years of working (and living) there, Yamamoto didn’t want her dishes to replicate what you can already find nearby. In an area full of Chinese-style beef noodle soup, she made E-Jae Pak Mor’s “to Thai taste,” adding all the sugar, vinegar, and condiments that might otherwise happen at the table.

“To Thai taste” could definitely describe the entirety of E-Jae Pak Mor’s menu. But you don’t need to have deep roots in Bangkok—or even a TikTok account—to be glad they’re here.

E-Jae Pak Mor 504 5th Ave S, Chinatown–International District, 206-694-3561