EATING OUT

Pan-chinese flavours work Michelin-star magic, finds Tom, at a flawless spot in London’s Pimlico

It’s been a long time since I was last at A Wong. Nearly a decade, in fact, way before this Chinese restaurant, set in a slightly less salubrious corner of Pimlico, was showered with a brace of Michelin stars. But even then, one could see that the eponymous Andrew Wong was one hell of a cook, possessing not only talent and technique, but an encyclopaedic knowledge of regional Chinese food.

I always meant to return. But could I get a table? Could I hell. I’m pretty useless at booking six hours in advance, let alone six months. Which seems to be the normal wait for a table here. Thank God, then, for my friend Emily. And so we troop in to the small room, with Wong in the centre of his open kitchen. And, eschewing the tasting menu, get stuck into dim sum that lingers sweetly in the memory long after the last bite has gone.

There are Shanghai pork dumplings, the pastry so gossamer-thin that it bulges, desperately trying to hold back the torrent of fragrant hot soup within. Wong injects black vinegar into each filling rather than serve it as dipping sauce, so it melts in the steamer, and adds that all-important acidic kick. Genius.

An injection of black vinegar adds an acidic kick

Chengdu street tofu is ethereally light, almost floating away, the sauce the very essence of ma la (or hot and numbing) Sichuan delight. Smacked cucumber takes another Sichuan classic and raises it towards heaven, pure, clean, cool and sharp, with trout roe adding another layer of gently fishy appeal.

‘The Cantonese kitchen’ barbecued pork crackling sees a sliver of fried bread topped with roast pork so crisp, crunchy, soft and rich, that it could make a monk – to paraphrase Raymond Chandler – kick a hole in a stained-glass window. And as for the Xian city lamb burger – it’s one of London’s great dishes.

I could bang on and on about the endless cavalcade of two-bite masterpieces, all united by the precision of the cooking, the contrast of textures, the sheer depth of all those flavours, both traditional and modern. There’s not a dull note, let alone a bum one. The place is not cheap, by any standard, but it’s food you’ll never forget. Wong is a master. Drop everything. Book for next year if you have to. And go. Just damned well go.

About £80 per head. A Wong, 70 Wilton Road, London sw1; awong.co.uk