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The trend in recession-hit London, I daresay you've noticed, is towards large-volume, no-reservations, low-cost restaurants. MeatLiquor, Pitt Cue, Spuntino and Koya have all popped up in the last couple of years, each serving wildly different cuisines but all very similar in terms of business model - pack 'em in, queue 'em up, and make sure you can have a couple of courses and a drink for less than £20. These places have something else in common as well of course - they serve some of the best food you can find in the capital - but I'm not sure they would have existed, or at least been so wildly successful, had hard economic times not forced the choice between cutting corners on quality ingredients or making sure you turn enough tables to turn a profit.
But there has long been a way to get a fresh, exciting meal for a very reasonable amount of money and have the peace of mind of a reserved table. Dim sum is the great unsung hero of budget dining, a way of trying a stunning variety of meticulously prepared dishes for something approaching a pittance, and is one of the very best ways of eliminating a Friday-night work-drinks hangover that I know. My favourite dim sum spots so far, however, have been a little out of the way - Dragon Castle is highly recommended if you can steel yourself for the horror that is the Walworth Road, Dragon Palace in Earl's Court is a little more accessible but has the disadvantage of the most astonishingly rude service I've ever encountered, and if you can find a better way of getting to the Peninsula in Greenwich than hacking your way through the bushes circling the car park then you're a better person than me.
That Princess Garden deserves to be recognised amongst the best dim sum London has to offer, then, is even more extraordinary in the context of its location - right in the heart of Mayfair, minutes from Oxford Street and occupying a large chunk of what must be some of the most expensive real estate in the world. This part of town is more closely associated with Chinese restaurants like Kai and their £55 abalone soup than no-frills steamed dumplings and pots of jasmine tea but here it is anyway, a smart, bright space populated by smart, brisk (if occasionally brusque) staff and a particularly nice place to spend a Saturday lunchtime.
There's no point me attempting to go into too much detail on the food, partly because I'm seriously out of my depth attempting to explain exactly what goes into most of it anyway - the silky noodly casing of a cheung fun will always remain black magic to me - but mainly because the sheer number of different bits and pieces we tried makes such a task impractical. But the highlights are worth pointing out - perfect greaseless taro croquettes, all crunchy and spindly on the outside and containing a rich, salty vegetable paste; a variety of piping hot dumplings in various shapes and sizes, all soft and fresh; a really interesting pan-fried glutinous rice dish, sort of a flat rice pancake; some golden baked char siu bao (pork puff things) with a good sweet piggy filling; and of course the aforementioned cheung fun, a cuttlefish version in particular boasting the flavour and bounce of great fresh seafood.
A very generous feed, then, and not a single item (apart from some slightly chewy beancurd skin rolls) less than hugely enjoyable. It seems a bit of a shame to have to mention the service, which whilst always efficient and never exactly wrong, could have been a bit friendlier. "Do you have any soya milk please?" "NO." went one memorable exchange, but once the food started arriving most was forgiven, and once the bill arrived, it all was - just £15 a head and a couple of us even had a beer. A genuine bargain, in Mayfair, in 2012, and not a queue in sight.
8/10
It was the haggis dim sum that was the hook, at least for me. There's nothing like a bizarre or ill-conceived food fusion to make a hilarious evening and a post that writes itself - in fact for many weeks after I learned of the hideous 'Brazilian/Sushi' mashup that is Sushinho I was desperate to go and see if it really was as bad as everyone said, even if it meant paying through the nose for it. It's strange, I know, this compulsion for visiting car-crash restaurants, but it certainly does make life interesting.
A more prosaic reason to visit Min Jiang, though, was because I'd heard their duck was very good, and it was the whole roast duck and the haggis dim sum that formed the main part of their special Burns Night menu (£55 a head). Scottish/Chinese fusion, with matching whiskies. I could hardly wait.
The first 'course' was an Ardmore Whisky Sour, and was superb - it's amazing how many places treat a sour like any other fruit-based cocktail and serve it far too sweet. This was mouth-puckeringly refreshing and with a heady scent of peat bogs from the whisky. Served alongside, quite welcome but probably rather unnecessary, was a glass of house champagne. I bravely faced down the two drinks and wondered where the night would lead.
And finally, the main event. Haggis dim sum came in the form of a crispy wonton, a cute little haggis and prawn dumpling in its own individual steamer, a cucumber roll (sort of a mini spring roll) and a delicate pastry puff. And do you know what? They were all excellent. Haggis, as it turns out, makes a fantastic dim sum ingredient, being both richly flavoured and with a marvellous consistency, and all of the different bite size elements worked very well. My own favourite was the wonton, whose crispy casing was the best foil to the loose texture of the haggis filling. It's also important to note that none of the dim sum attempted to mask the bold haggis flavour, either by skimping on filling or adding extra more 'authentic' Chinese spices. I really enjoyed this course, and it wasn't just because it was served with a large measure of Highland Park 12yo.
Half-drunk glasses of cocktails, whisky and champagne now stacking up alarmingly, it was time to tackle the duck. Carved skilfully by the table, it certainly looked the part - a lovely deep colour and a nice even roast. Slices of moist duck meat were lined up neatly on the serving plate, thin slivers of crispy skin were presented separately to dip in sugar, and our waitress showed us with stunning dexterousness how to assemble, dress and fold a pancake using only chopsticks. What a shame, then, that the duck itself failed to live up to the hype. It was very well timed, being moist and pink and with a good crispy skin, but I'm afraid there was no particularly strong duck flavour - the pancake filling overwhelmed the bland meat, and the slivers of duck skin just tasted of cold grease. I liked the idea of putting raw mashed garlic into the pancakes as well as the pickled veg, but I had big hopes for the famous Min Jiang duck and it was all rather disappointing. Even yet another large glass of whisky (a rich Macallan 10) didn't lighten my mood.
A course of salmon in black bean sauce was also pretty dull. It was - again - technically very well done, the salmon being moist and warm and just slightly raw in the middle, but the black bean sauce was far too familiar from a thousand other high street Chinese restaurants, and it was all surprisingly unambitious for a restaurant which was happy to serve haggis dim sum. Only the accompanying baby pak choi really stood out - crispy and delicious in the way that only Chinese restaurants ever seem to be able to cook vegetables. This course was served with a glass of Pinot Gris, the first bottle of which was corked but replaced with charm and efficiency. And before you ask, no of course I couldn't tell - I would have happily chugged the whole thing down, but in my defence I was about a half bottle of whisky down by that point.
Dessert was a whisky chocolate tart, served with a whisky granite. Through the whisky-induced haze I can just about remember the chocolate tart being fairly unexceptional but the granite being peaty and delicious with a pleasant fresh texture. I'd had a whisky cocktail, a glass of champagne, a glass of Pinot Gris and THREE large measures of Scotch by this point, so you'll excuse me if I'm a bit short on detail.
In the end, although the meal tailed off towards the end and some elements were less than stellar, the main draw of the evening (the haggis dim sum) lived up to expectations and then some, and along with the liberal amounts of alcohol served as part of the £55/head set menu, it all added up to a pretty enjoyable evening. Service was superb too, and what's more they didn't even add it automatically to the bill - we were left to do the calculations ourselves. My lasting impression of Min Jiang, therefore, will be one of enormous generosity, and that's not because everything else, including the journey home, is lost in the alcoholic fog. The secret to an enjoyable evening then, is some competently cooked food, pleasant service, and more whisky than you could possibly ever want. Who knew?
6/10
I had hoped, in the spirit of other far more prolific gastronomes, to do a roundup of all my dining highlights of 2009 in the form of a categorised list, instead of choosing just one "Restaurant of the Year". It was partly because I didn't want to bore people with yet another gushing exaltation to Rules, but I was also curious as to whether even I could reliably recall meals and dishes from the first few months of 2009 - even El Bulli seems like a lifetime ago, never mind my first trip to the wonderful Harwood Arms in February.
But all my good intentions came to naught almost as soon as I began. Here's my draft of the first few categories:
Best restaurant overall - Rules
Best individual dish - Roast Grouse at Rules
Best bar - Brian Silva's Rules Bar
...at which point I thought "this is silly" and gave up. However although Rules does remain my favourite drinking and dining spot overall, there was some pretty fierce competition. Here, then, in no particular order, are some other things I enjoyed in 2009:
- A day trip to Whitstable and a four-hour "blind" tasting menu at the Sportsman was certainly one of the highlights of the year, and is most definitely on my "to do again" list for 2010. We were the first to arrive and the last to leave, and at no point did we get the impression they wouldn't have been happy to see us spend the night...
- Tayyabs remains as addictive and reliably enchanting as it is infuriatingly popular, but then it's when you don't see them queuing round the block in Whitechapel you have to start getting worried. The lamb chops and dry meat remain works of near-genius.
- It's still hard to resist hugging myself with self-satisfied glee at the existence of the Lavender Hill branch of Mien Tay. The friendly but slightly shambolic service and functional décor hide a skilled and generous kitchen. I've been about twenty times since October.
- Exhilarating and challenging Sichuan food in Chilli Cool, Snazz Sichuan (not reviewed) and Gourmet San, where I discovered that there is no dish that can't be improved by the addition of pig.
- A handful of equally satisfying (and stunningly good value) dim sum meals at such varied sites as New Cross, Elephant & Castle and Greenwich. Dim sum chefs train for years, the food is intricate and precise and delicately and uniquely flavoured, and it is a complete mystery why it's all so incredibly cheap. But you won't hear me complaining.
- A hugely enjoyable (and wallet-burstingly expensive) evening at the Pierre Koffman popup, in a room seemingly populated exclusively by food bloggers and journalists.
- And of course, there's that little trip to Spain in September. I didn't enjoy all of it, and in fact hated some of it, but I can't say I still don't feel privileged to have been.
So that was 2009. Many thanks once again for everyone reading the blog and following me on Twitter, and with any luck 2010 should bring even more potential delights, disasters and Ibérico ham tastings (that last wish is mainly for selfish reasons). Here's to next year - it's been a blast.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, dim sum is one of the genuine - and depressingly rare - gourmet bargains of London. Yesterday at Dragon Castle, a cavernous and clattering space on the otherwise bleak Walworth Road, six of us worked our way through 26 individual plates of dim sum, as well as three huge servings of roast pork, roast duck and stir-fry beef in black bean sauce, washed down with a beer or two. The bill came to about £20 a head. Even if the food hadn't been universally tasty and enjoyable (it was) or the service smart and timely (it was, aside from a strange reluctance to bring us water), you still wouldn't have much to complain about at just over £2 per exquisitely constructed plate of bitesize loveliness.
Sometimes I wonder how these dim sum joints make any money at all, considering the time and skill that must go into their creations. Steamed prawn and chive dumplings, ethereally translucent and containing crunchy fresh veg; delicately steamed siu mai, meticulously uniform, with more fresh prawn flavour; char sui buns, impossibly fluffy and containing a heady filling of smokey pig; there is someone in the kitchens at Dragon Castle with years and years of experience studiously checking each and every dish and making sure they all arrive at the table piping hot. And then they charge £2 each for them. It's madness.
Even the slightly more off-piste selections managed to impress. Chicken feet were carefully boned and served cold in a tomato-chilli sauce which brought to mind Spanish calamari tapas. Tripe, also served cold, matched the moreish texture of perfectly cooked meat with a fragrant dressing, and slices of turnip paste was ever so slightly crispy on the outside and gooey and flavoursome within.
By the time the larger plates of roasted protein arrived, we were reaching capacity, but the sight of the perfectly browned duck and colourful stack of beef and black bean was too good to resist. The duck in particular had an almost overwhelming intensity of flavour, and an unbeatable combination of crispy skin and moist flesh. I just about managed to stuff a single slice of char sui (pork) into my mouth before my stomach surrendered and I was forced to admit defeat. Others managed desserts of mango pudding and sago - I have no idea how.
My enjoyment of, and gratitude towards the generosity of places like Dragon Castle is tempered only with the memory of hideous, sloppily presented meals I've suffered elsewhere for far more money. It's baffling how restaurants with such a different concept of value can exist side by side in the same city. Compare, for example, the array of superbly constructed treats shown above with this plate of tasteless grey gunge masquerading as 'Duck in tomato sauce' at Polpo:
Yes, it's a terrible photo but it really did taste as bad as it looks. From Dragon Castle we wobbled home uncomfortably distended and not much worse off financially, sated and happy. At Polpo we spent more money per head and left so hungry we had to stop for ribs and chicken wings at Bodean's on the way home - I'm not kidding.
So I hope it's not too dull to leave yet another near-perfect score to yet another Asian restaurant, but that's just the way things seem to be working out these days. As much as I like a solid British gastropub or French bistro, the fact is that in terms of sheer value for money it's always the Asian places (well, at least Chinese, Pakistani, Indian and Vietnamese) that consistently offer the best deals. At Dragon Castle you will find a large menu of exquisitely prepared dim sum, served in pleasant surroundings, and costing a pittance. What's not to like?
9/10
Before we go any further, Full Disclosure. I didn't pay for this meal. I was invited by the PR lady to try their new Autumn menu after I made some (unprompted) positive comments about it on Twitter, and of course I was happy to accept. But believe me or not, I have always had a soft spot for Ping Pong. Whether or not the traditionalists like it, dim sum lends itself extraordinarily well to post-pub dining, and although Yauatcha was probably the first place to promote the peculiar idea of serving food when the customers might want to eat it rather than when the restaurant decides is convenient for them, the raft of mini-chains that have followed in its wake (including Dim T) have proved that it's not that peculiar an idea after all.
When you think about it, it's obvious. A group of friends, some more hungry than others, some more drunk than others, some leaving early, some arriving late. Imagine trying to make a booking at a restaurant in Soho last-minute - "Yeah, between two and twenty of us, some not eating, some not drinking either. We'll be there any time in the next four hours." Not going to happen is it. But here stands Ping Pong: vast, reasonably priced and welcoming. Sure, you'll have to queue in busy periods, and it can get quite boisterous later in the evening, but for a reliably fun place to share food, sip fruity cocktails and not completely drain that month's budget, I can hardly think of anywhere more suitable.
We started small, with nibbles of Sichuan pork cracklings (not very Sichuan-y - in fact they tasted just like your average pub pork scratchings, albeit served with a really lovely chilli oil) and tamarind prawn crackers (the tamarind sauce was lovely and sharp, and the crackers themselves looked pleasingly rustic) while we supped on our largely successful house cocktails (my lychee martini was pretty good, although the Earl Grey julep was odd).
Seafood puff was a little low on filling, but what was there was tasty. The mooli and spring onion puff is described on the menu as containing 'a hint of garlic' but was so overwhelmingly garlicky it almost drowned any other flavours. Slices of smoked duck were a bit flabby but full of smoky flavour, and one of the new dishes, 'Beggar's Chicken' looked the part and tasted great with its sharp hoi sin dressing.
I won't detail everything we ate - you've probably had enough of the blow-by-blow style after El Bulli and the Sportsman - but some highlights were the char sui buns, usually a good measure of a dim sum restaurant and which passed that test perfectly, being light and gooey and with a great tasting sweet pork filling. The seafood dumplings also tasted as good as they looked, folded into a cute tortellini shape and stuffed full of sweet prawns and scallops. Unfortunately I didn't think much of the honey-glazed spare ribs, which looked a bit over-marinated and bedraggled, and although the crispy prawn balls looked spectacular in their nest of deep-fried egg pastry, there was simply too much grease for me to wade through to find the prawns.
Desserts, so often an afterthought in Chinese restaurants, were surprisingly good. Admittedly had I been paying I probably would never had ordered them, but the mango pudding was lovely and fresh tasting - straightforward but deliberately so - and the "Ping Pong Delights" (which I'm told are also known as mochi) were great fun, with a spongy pastry coating three radically different flavours of ice cream. We particularly enjoyed the vanilla and mango with a quite unexpected chilli heat. Only the chocolate and wasabi mousse was a bit of a let-down, the fiery horseradish sitting very uneasily with the sweet chocolate.
If you've ever been out in Soho or Oxford Circus and been looking for somewhere to eat, chances are you've already found Ping Pong and none of this is news to you. And in fact they seem to have struck a chord with Londoners at large, judging by the alarming growth rate of what was once a mini-chain - there are now twelve branches. Ping Pong is a fine example of the way London can enthusiastically adopt a cuisine from another country and twist it just subtly enough to meet its own local needs. No, it's not strictly "traditional" to eat dim sum in the evening, but this is after all London, not Hong Kong. We do things differently here.
The contrast couldn't have been greater. From a culture where there are strict rules about which parts of which animal can be eaten and when, to a part of the world where it's probably easier to list the animals, minerals and vegetables that aren't consumed in some fashion than those that are. The Chinese have an admirable, if frequently terrifyingly liberal, attitude to foodstuffs, which has been well-documented on many a "Top 10 most shocking dishes in the world" list or hysterical travelogue. Fortunately, there was no fresh duck foetus or snake blood on yesterday's menu at the Peninsula, and quite frankly even if there had been I wouldn't have known as I left all the ordering up to Lizzie of Hollow Legs, who has the twin advantage of a Chinese heritage and an absolutely astonishing appetite.
For a comprehensive and far more authoritative list of the exciting and often sublime dishes we ate at the Peninsula (along with some mouth-watering photography) I suggest you take a quick look at Helen's post at World Foodie Guide. Highlights for me included the crunchy taro croquettes which had a gloopy paste inside with a great, deep flavour, all the cheung fun which were without exception excellent coming with an impossibly silky noodle wrapping, all the steamed dumplings which were again superb, and the old favourite char sui buns which were fluffy and fresh.
As far as unusual Chinese specialities goes, we tried a plate of jellyfish which had a rather... challenging... texture (try and imagine thick rubber bands) but came in a lovely delicate sesame oil marinade. Also new to me were squares of turnip paste, which rather than tasting like something you might have with your roast beef, had a great meaty flavour and were incredibly moreish. Once we had worked our way through what felt like every savoury dish on the menu, a few desserts arrived - delicate little custard tarts, a very fresh tasting mango pudding and a lovely subtle opaque coconut jelly.
Soon after last morsel of coconut jelly had passed our lips, it was time to pay the bill, which came to an amazingly reasonable £15 each. Unsurprisingly, and in common with every other restaurant in London which has managed to combine tasty ingredients with an attractive price-point, the Peninsula was very popular, and although we managed to bag one of the last free tables at around 11:30am (they don't take bookings), by the time we left they were queuing out the door. The clientele were, at a guess, 95% Chinese, which along with a marvellously surly waiter lent the otherwise characterless room a nice air of authenticity (whatever that is these days). There's even free parking for guests. What more do you want?
8/10
