Oxtail broth, cloudy and scented with orange zest, cascades from a copper kettle, filling a shallow, persimmon-colored pot at a table crowded with plates of raw greens, mushrooms, tofu and beef so thin-sliced and well-marbled it could be mistaken for prosciutto. Staff hustle around the room, carefully bringing broths to a simmer, delivering ingredients and instructions on how long to cook them. Besides a few murmured conversations in the courtyard and some dreamy pop playing quietly from a speaker near the kitchen, the vibe is calm, quiet even.