Ryan Chang lives on the other side of the day. As the co-owner of a company that produces parties and promotions, he'd get off work at 2 or 3 in the morning, ravenous and ready to unwind with his friends, many of whom worked similar schedules in bars or restaurants.

But the pickings are slim in Honolulu after 10 p.m., and you can practically count on one hand the restaurants that are open after midnight. "We were getting tired of Zippy's, Sorabol, Lillian's, Like Like," said Chang. And they also didn't want that plate-lunch/hamburger load of fat and calories.

So he and three pals — Blaise Sato, Moses Gomez and Jace Kanemoto — envisioned their dream place. Open until dawn. Local-friendly. Not too expensive. With relatively healthy food.

And not just any food, they decided, but a particular favorite of theirs: shabu shabu, the cook-your-own hot pot from Japan.

The result is NeoNabe (neo=new, nabe=one-pot dish ... say "nee-oh nuh-bay").

Cool idea, cool name, cool place.

NeoNabe is a small (38 seats) restaurant on South King Street diamondhead of McCully — look for the gray marble front accented with wake-you-up tangerine trim. After just eight weeks, it's already a staple of the post-club crowd.

For old futts like me, that means it's not too hard to get a table earlier in the evening. Or at least it wasn't a couple of weekends ago, when my husband and I and two friends walked in, reservation-less, at 7:30 on a Saturday night. There was a nice buzz, but no wait, just the way most of us like a new restaurant to be. (They do take reservations, but you have to let the phone ring and ring and ring before you can leave a message; trying to make one, I hung up too soon.)

NeoNabe's menu takes a little explaining, but it's easy once you figure out that you're concocting a single dish from a galaxy of choices. Select a broth from among seven kinds ($3 to $5; more on this later). Select at least two entrees from among five options ($16 to $19). Select side dishes (vegetables, $1.50 to $3) or extras (kim chee, noodles, tofu, $1.50 to $4). Decide what to drink (speaking of slim pickings, they've got only soft drinks, tea, coffee, beer, ichiko barley sake, choya plum wine or — somebody explain this — Crown Royal). Pau ka hana.

If the initial nabe-fest doesn't fill you up, tell 'em to bring on the ojia ($10), a folksy preparation that falls somewhere between chazuke and risotto, prepared for you at the table.

And finally, if you want, you can get Bubbies ice cream ($3), a NeoNabe Sundae (vanilla or green tea ice cream with chocolate drizzles and kinako soy powder sprinkles, $4) or Bunmeido a la mode (the famed apple turnover from adjacent Bunmeido Bakery,with choice of ice cream; $5.50). (If you want the Bunmeido, order early; it sells out.)

Our shy young waitress did a good job of outlining the procedure, as does the menu, which makes note of a Japanese pro-verb: Nabe o kakomu. "People who eat together from the same pot develop and enjoy stronger, more meaningful and long-lasting relationship."

But it's true: The decision-making process, the cooking and sharing of the food make for laughter and conversation. At our waitress's urging, we chose a combination broth, garlic-miso ($6), and three entrees to share among us — rib-eye steak and black tiger shrimp ($19), rib-eye and Manila clams ($19) and vegetarian (tofu with mushrooms, won bok, spinach, carrots, bell peppers, $14). Individual rice bowls are included, as are the three dipping sauces: light ginger-garlic-shoyu, citrusy ponzu, and thick, nut-butter-like sesame-miso.

Our waitress whisked away the cover on the large burner in the middle of the table, turned it on and set a wide pan of broth on it, instructing us that it should simmer but not boil.

As we waited, we kept tuning in to the music, which was an astounding mix of everything short of country and classical — Green Day after Huey Lewis before Journey then with a little Ziggy Marley to follow. The architecture is a bit mixed up, too. This former Japanese bistro is all gray marble tile, black accents and European-style pillars, but the partners have given it a contemporary gloss with clever artwork and the aforementioned tangerine touches. Altogether, an interesting vibe.

The food arrived with dispatch. Although the servings are small (exactly five shrimp, five clams, beef sliced paper-thin), there's a feeling of abundance that comes from seeing it all spread temptingly before you. By the time you've scooped up the ingredients with the nifty bamboo tongs, fussed with the food while it's cooking, ceremoniously served each other and drizzled sauce over your own rice bowl, you're already beginning to feel a little full.

We found the broth nicely balanced between hearty and light, salty and sweet and, of course, more delicious as the evening went on, with various ingredients leaving their flavors behind as they swam through.

Chang is particularly proud of the broths. "We all thought the traditional shabu-shabu broth didn't have any flavor. We wanted to create broths that would really satisfy local tastes," he said when I interviewed him after our anonymous visit. NeoNabe does offer a traditional, dashi-style nabe (at no charge!). The others are katsuo (bonito), beef (bouillon), chicken, garlic, miso, Vietnamese pho-style and a seventh flavor that will change monthly. Right now, it's kim chee, made with the juice of Korean pickled vegetables, and you can specify mild or spicy.

Though we were more than fullish by the time we'd gone through our three entree plates and the better part of four bowls of rice, we just had to order the ojia. Co-owner Jace Kanemoto came over to do the honors and told us how his grandfather had teased him that they're making money from "poor people's food." The old gentleman was recalling how, in plantation times, ojia was one of the dishes you'd make when you had nothing but scraps: leftover broth, dried-out rice, an egg or two from the chickens in the yard, whatever vegetables were in the garden.

As he talked, Kanemoto poured off a little of the broth to assure the right balance of broth to rice. It's important that the rice is a bit dried-out and cold, he said; it then soaks up the broth, the grains swelling and growing tender, releasing their starch to make a creamy gravy. Keeping the heat to a low simmer, he whisked in the secret house blend (beaten eggs, sesame, sake and spices), plus green onions and a little chopped rib-eye. The fragrance was heavenly, the dish slightly spicy, pleasantly starchy, filling without a lot of fat — just what you want after a night of partying (or working).

Reach Wanda A. Adams at wadams@honoluluadvertiser.com.