Banquet 88, St Katharine Docks

The St Katharine Docks are a very pleasant, picturesque and pedestrian-friendly part of London that deserves much, much better restaurants than they has hitherto been blessed with. Banquet 88's immediate neighbours are Café Rouge, Côte and Slug & Lettuce and though I can sense some of you bristling with indignant contrary defences of this particular rogues gallery ("The Côte lunch menu is actually pretty good value" ... "The Café Rouge steak frites aren't completely inedible" ... "I once ate at Slug & Lettuce and didn't die"), the fact is that being so close to one of the city's most popular attractions (the Tower is just through an underpass) means that the undiscerning tourist dollar is a considerable and ugly influence.

How odd, then - and pleasantly surprising - that Banquet 88 isn't a lazy proto-chain or timid tourist-friendly slop merchant but a vibrantly authentic modern Cantonese restaurant serving a menu so full of courageous and exciting dishes that it should have any Chinese food-lover (that's lovers of Chinese food, not food lovers who are Chinese, although I'm sure both are welcome) wanting to order from every corner of it.

So obviously, given the menu dares you to go as full Chinese Mode as you can, we tried not to disappoint. This is hand-pulled chicken with jellyfish, a dish that carefully balanced both the obvious contrasting textures - the bounce and chew of the jellyfish with the firmer strips of chicken - and lovely light flavours, with both proteins benefiting from a subtle sesame-vinegar dressing. With strips of crunchy cucumber and spring onion layered on top, this was an immensely satisfying and enjoyable salad (...type thing), very appropriate given the flag-cracking weather outside.

Hot and sour sesame aubergine came so fresh out of the fryer that we could barely go near them for about 15 minutes after they landed on the table, but once the searing hot sugar had cooled down a bit they were great, little gooey sticks all sharp and sweet with an addictive crunch and chew.

Banquet 88 are apparently known for their cheung fun, so we could hardly ignore that section of the menu. This is prawn with crispy red rice skin, which cleverly combined the sweetness and bite of fresh prawn with a layer of crunchy fried doughnut, all wrapped in a traffic-light red noodle wrapper that, we were assured, was not artificial but naturally coloured from the red rice used to make it. The chilli dip was great too.

More dim sum (Banquet 88 are pitching themselves as a kind of updated Yauatcha, with the whole menu available all day) came in the form of these pretty crab dumplings, containing plenty of fresh crab and having a nice just-firm-enough bite. Excellent of course - by this stage of the evening, excellent was becoming the norm.

Cantonese roast pigeon needed a very different skill set to the dim sum but was equally accomplished. The neat little portions each had a crisp, delicate skin next to expertly seasoned meat and was all distressingly easy to wolf down in record time. Perhaps if I'm going to be picky I would have liked some kind of dipping sauce for this, but there was still some chilli sauce and crispy chilli oil left over from the dim sum so that worked well enough.

In some restaurants you're lucky to get your seafood served in the right species of shell - there's been a worrying trend recently to present dressed crab inside scallop shells which is just... all kinds of wrong) but not many places serve fresh scallops not only in their shells but still attached to the very shell they lived in. So not only were these creatures served plump and fresh and dressed in a lovely garlic-vinegar sauce with glass noodles but you had the added joy of prying the meat from the shell, which lifted off in a single satisfying chunk. This is literally the first time I've ever had scallops served this way, and I'm very much hoping it won't be the last.

We did allow ourselves a couple of fan-favourite Cantonese dishes. Half a roast duck was extremely good - perhaps not as life-changing as the multi-course version served at Shikumen in Shepherd's Bush (currently, worryingly closed, though I hope just temporarily) but still mostly everything you could wish for, with another one of those delicately crunchy skins and good soft meat.

Even beef ho fun - something approaching a Cantonese staple - was the very best it could be, with big slices of smoky chargrilled beef, slightly pink inside, enveloped by giant lengths of soft noodles.

Finally from the savouries, a plate of pea shoots was a revelation. On the plate it looked like spinach or bok choy, attractive but familiar. But the taste was pure, summery, sugary pea, with a topping of crab roe to season and enliven it. I'm sure the kitchens at Banquet 88 can work wonders with whatever seasonal vegetables they can get their hands on, but this particular dish will live long in my memory of this dinner, one not short of highlights.

So far so brilliant then, and I'm tempted to ignore the sweet courses and leave on a high note, but it's probably worth wondering why I've never had a great time with desserts in Chinese restaurants. Two different dishes were brought out - a selection of mochi (I know, they're Japanese), and a mango pomelo sago pudding thing, and as expected I didn't much like either of them. The mochi, like any other mochi I've ever tried, were the texture of raw bread dough with all the personality of wallpaper paste, and the mango...thing had a decent mango flavour but a slightly off-putting too-firm texture. I've been lucky enough to eat at some very smart and high-end Chinese restaurants and I've never really understood why so often the wheels seem to come off after the savoury courses are done. But then maybe it's just me.

Either way, let's not dwell on the desserts (I certainly didn't). Banquet 88 had done more than enough to put it right near the top of my favourite Chinese restaurants in London before the mochi arrived and looking back over my photos a few days after I just want to go back and order all the other things I didn't get a chance to sample the first time - abalone maybe, or baked eel, or sake cherry foie gras. And although I didn't see a bill, and though it is possible to load up on some pretty premium ingredients (caviar features in certain corners, I noticed) a quick and dirty sum of the items we chose comes to a food bill of about £170 for 3 people - and we had leftovers. You will certainly pay more for a lot less in other parts of town.

It is, then, and after all, possible to run a restaurant with style and heart in the heart of Touristland, and although I'm not holding my breath for a world-class Southern Thai specialist to open on Leicester Square or for Westfield Stratford to get a Bob Bob Ricard, the point is that maybe we shouldn't be so surprised when somewhere with integrity opens so close to so many places without. And we should be very, very thankful that they have because it's places like Banquet 88 that make London one of the most rewarding and exciting places in which to eat on planet earth. OK so maybe I'm biased. But I'm not necessarily wrong.

8/10

I was invited to Banquet 88 and didn't see a bill.

Fiery Flavors, Surrey Quays

I am never really in my comfort zone talking about regional Chinese cuisine. I have next to no knowledge about the skills or practices involved in making it, the different use of ingredients or techniques that distinguish one region from the next, and I am the last person you should ask if any particular dish is cooked "correctly".

All that said, having never cooked in a professional kitchen or worked front of house anywhere in my life there's no good reason I should be pontificating on any other style of food, either. All I can tell you is that I know what I like, and I like Fiery Flavors (yes they spell it the American way, don't blame me) very much.

The first dish we ate isn't pictured, because it was already half-finished by the time it arrived on our table and it would be unfair to record that indefinitely on the blog. Let me explain - arriving hungry and cold this cold Friday night in March the very kind (and observant) group on the next table noticed how intensely we were staring at their half-finished plate of chicken with crispy rice cake and offered the remainder to us. It was gorgeous - fiercely hot, packed with numbing Sichuan peppercorns and full of flavour, a lovely bit of crunch from the rice cake added up to a brilliantly rewarding dish. It was a great start.

Wood ear fungus was equally brilliant - again bursting with flavour, with a lovely balance of vinegar and oil, texture came in the form of little bits of peanuts but also, cleverly, chopped coriander stalks which added colour and crunch to what could have otherwise been a bit of a monochrome experience. But the star of the show was of course the fungus, a lovely ingredient treated well.

Next was a dish described as 'Sliced beef and ox tongue in chilli oil' on the menu, and was indeed every bit as good as it sounds despite involving not tongue, but tripe. Now that's absolutely fine by me of course (if I see offal, I order it), but I do wonder how flexible some other customers might have been to having their chosen variety of offal substituted without consultation. Anyway as I say, it was still a fantastic dish, with all of those wonderful Hunanese flavours appearing again.

Roast duck was perhaps the only dish that wasn't firing on all cylinders but then I'm not sure roast duck is a Hunanese thing - maybe their heart just wasn't in it. Looking a bit mangled (compare for example with the beautifully presented, and very similarly priced, bird at Shikumen) and with slightly dry flesh, the skin was nice and crispy and seasoned correctly but overall I wouldn't bother with it again.

Fortunately, from here on Fiery Flavors was nothing but superb. A whole brown crab came dressed in a ginger and spring onion sauce and was deliriously messy fun right until the last knuckled had been picked empty. Underneath was a portion of slippery udon noodles which soaked up the crab sauce and became a notable side in their own right. Also, and I appreciate I wasn't paying on this occasion, the menu has this listed for under £25, which is insane value for a whole crab anywhere never mind one cooked this well.

Finally, a Hunanese speciality of steamed fish heads with chopped chilli - powerfully spicy, perfectly cooked with an interesting gelatinous texture that brought to mind that Basque dish pil-pil. Despite being more stuffed than a large char siu bao by this point we were very reluctant to stop eating until every last bit of cheek and collar had been found and consumed. Alas, we weren't completely successful but we did really well (our servers kindly told us).

Ah yes - a word on the service. Our waitress took absolutely no prisoners when correcting our cackhanded and unbalanced ordering and we absolutely loved her for it. When we tried to order the wrong sauce with the crab, she corrected us. When we asked if we needed any rice, she said 'no, have noodles with the crab'. It was like a crash course in ordering Hunanese food, and believe me, I absolutely needed it. If you're anything like me and might be put off regional Chinese food for fear of ordering the wrong thing, just make sure you get a front of house experience like this - it made the whole evening even more of a joy. Perhaps she should have talked us out of ordering the duck, but nobody's perfect.

After going through the menu bit by bit, and not counting those gifted bits of chilli chicken, I think our food bill would have come to £44.10 per person without service, which I'm sure you'll agree for a meal involving whole brown crab and giant bighead carp (I think that's what they said it was) is a hell of a bargain in London in 2026. And yes I know this was an invite so as ever, take any mention of service with a pinch of salt, but that aspect really made the evening.

We have, I'm told, an influx of discerning Chinese students into London over the last few years to thank for the relatively recent explosion in brilliant regional Chinese restaurants. It's a cliche that if a Chinese restaurant is full of Chinese people than it's very likely to be good, and though this doesn't necessarily have to be the case, it invariably is. Fiery Flavors is already popular with expats and others alike, because it's reasonably priced, exciting and - I presume - deeply authentic. As I said before, on that last point, I couldn't tell you for sure. But I know what I like.

9/10

I was invited to Fiery Flavours and didn't see a bill. But it would have come to about £44.10 + service without drinks.

Uncle Hon's BBQ, Hackney Wick

After traipsing halfway across London, dodging travel works and closed Overground lines and carriages with malfunctioning air conditioning and all the other things that make moving around this city on a weekend in the summer such an endless joy, it's equally annoying to find that your destination is good or bad. If it's good, you will bemoan the fact that somewhere worth visiting is so bloody difficult to get to, and seethe with jealousy of those lucky locals who have such a good place on their doorstep. And if it's bad, you wish you'd spent your Saturday morning and sanity going somewhere else.

Uncle Hon's isn't awful. It's not great, but it's not awful. The brisket (sorry, ox cheeks) was over-tender to the point of mush (it would definitely not pass the competition BBQ "pull-test") and a bit too sweet. Pulled lamb had a decent flavour but a rather uniform texture - the joys of the "pulled" element of a BBQ tray lie almost entirely in finding little crispy crunchy bits of fat and charred flesh; this was just a bit boring. And some cubes of pork belly were decent enough in that Cantonese roast style but was yet more sweet, syrupy, mushy meat next to two other piles of sweet, syrupy, mushy meat and the whole thing was just a bit sickly.

Iberico ribs were a bit better in terms of texture - they did at least have a bit of a bite and didn't just slop off the bone as is depressingly often the case - but I feel like Iberico has become a bit of a meaningless foodie buzzword like Wagyu, ie. nowhere near the guarantee of quality it once was (if indeed it ever was). These were definitely the best things we ate though, and were pretty easily polished off.

Oh I should say pickles and slaw were fine, if fairly unmemorable, and a single piece of crackling weirdly lodged vertically into a mound of rice like the sword in the stone had a pleasant enough greaseless texture but was pretty under seasoned.

Look, I can see what they're trying to do at Uncle Hon's - fusion American/Chinese BBQ food, bringing a bit of a new twist to what is now fairly ubiquitous London drinking-den fare, and with a bit more thought and skill it could have been, well, if not completely worth that awful journey but at least some compensation for your efforts. But after having paid £50pp for what is an only fairly mediocre tray of food plus 3 small extra pork ribs, we were left feeling fairly unhappy, not very satisfied and more than a little ripped off.

5/10

Tarim Uyghur, Bloomsbury

Quite often all you need to know about a restaurant is the smell that greets you as you walk through the door. The smoke and fat of a busy ocakbaşı, The burned onions and masala spices that cling to your clothes after an evening at Tayyabs, the intoxicating mix of funky aged steak and charred lobster shell that fill the upper dining rooms of the Devonshire, these are all indicators enough that you're in for a good time even before you see a menu.

The inside of Tarim Uyghur restaurant on Theobald's Road sent me right back to trips Silk Road in its heyday, when the charcoal grills were sufficiently close to the tables in that tiny space that the smell of scorched lamb fat filled your nostrils and lungs. And this is about a great a compliment as I can give to somewhere specialising in the same kind of regional Chinese food. It smells amazing, the kind of smell that gets you immediately vowing to order whichever the menu items are responsible for it (hint: it's the lamb skewers) and let anything else be a side order.

So let's start with those skewers, which are, needless to say, an absolute must-order. Expertly grilled with touches of salty crunch on the extremities but beautifully tender inside, they come resting on fluffy flatbread to soak up any escaping juices, and two little mounds of spice (don't ask me what they were) for dipping. At £3.95 each they weren't quite the same budget as Silk Road v1, but in terms of form and flavour they were right up there.

Spicy chicken was indeed commendably spicy, consisting of ugly-cute chunks of soft potato and bone-in chicken (I hope I don't create some kind of international incident by noting that Chinese 'butchery' seems to consist of hacking at a carcass with a machete with your eyes closed) soaked in a deep, rich, heavily five-spiced and chillified sauce. Add to this ribbons of thick, home made belt noodles which had a lovely bouncy, tacky texture, and you have an absolute classic northern Chinese dish.

Manti (advertised with a 20min wait but which speeds by if you're distracted by fresh lamb skewers and belt chicken) were also fabulous things, soft but robust and packed full of minced meat ("usually lamb" the menu rather noncommittedly states) and with an addictive vinegar-chilli dip.

But quite unexpectedly given the otherwise quite meaty focus of the menu (I'm not sure I'd bring a vegetarian here), Tarim have quite a way with salads, too. This is lampung, in which giant sticks of wobbly beancurd are topped with pickled carrots, beansprouts and chilli, all soaked in a very wonderful vinegar-soy dressing. I can honestly say I've never had anything like this before, and anywhere that can surprise a jaded diner like me with a new type of salad deserves all the praise it can get.

The bill, for two people, came to just over £42, which although not rock-bottom basement pricing still seems fair given the quality of the food and the area of town (about 5 min walk from Holborn tube). I have noticed the pricing at a lot of Chinese places in Holborn/Bloomsbury creeping up over the past few years - nobody is exempt from food inflation after all - so this is just perhaps the New Normal that we all have to get used to. Instead of spending £12 on your hot lunch, it's now more like £20. Still not bad, though.

So not just because it's 5 minutes' walk from the office, I'm certainly going back to Tarim, to try the chicken wings, the Gosh Nan (fried stuffed flatbread) and perhaps most intriguingly the Uyghur Polo, a rice dish which looks like it comes with some kind of offal. And you know how I love my offal. A charming and exciting ambassador for Xinjiang food, think of Tarim Uyghur as the Silk Road of Central London, a comparison I hope they take as the huge compliment that it's intended to be. Why should Camberwell get all the fun, anyway?

8/10

Hong Kong Restaurant, Angel

London has never been the kind of place where you can just pick a restaurant at random and have at least a decent dinner. There are too many tourist traps, dingy fast food joints, grim chains and bandwagon-jumping copycats (just see how many smash burger joints have appeared in the last few months) scattered around the city for you to need at least a little research before deciding where to spend your food money.

But it can also be said that this is a town where there is an awful lot of "decent". If we ignore, for a minute, the best-in-class that suck up all of the attention, and do our best to avoid the real dregs at the other end of the scale, there's still a vast swathe of enjoyable, independent, competently run restaurants in-between that while you might not make a special journey across 6 tube zones to visit, if you happen to find yourself in a particular part of town and in need of a nice dinner, fulfil their role more than adequately.

One such place is the Hong Kong Restaurant on Upper Street. A Cantonese diner offering all the usual classics, and complete with shopfront cabinet in which hang various types of roast and glazed poultry in true Chinatown style, it has the settled, confident style of somewhere that's been around for decades but it's all in fact a very clever deception - it's barely a year old. It was about 2/3 full at 7pm on a Friday night, but then as anyone who's continued to commute into central since Covid will tell you, Friday is the new Monday, so having 2/3 of your tables occupied is pretty good going.

We started with some crab Xiao Long Bao, which although perhaps not quite as cleverly constructed as the ones at Din Tai Fung (the filling here was more solid than liquid) still had a lovely flavour and plenty of crab.

Turnip cake were very good examples of their kind, crisp on the edges and soft and salty inside, again with bags of flavour.

But my own favourite of the dim sum dishes were these prawn bean curd rolls, a delicate thin casing containing a fresh, bouncy prawn filling thus making a very addictive mix of textures and marvellous fun to dip into chilli oil and/or soy (as is your preference) and munch down on. I'm going to look out for these on menus in the future.

Roast duck (well I had to choose something from the cabinet) was good as well - probably not quite worth the £22 for a half but a solid main course and satisfying end to the meal, with a nice moist flesh and salty, sticky skin. Again, not any of this stuff is unique in Cantonese restaurants in London (not even, I'm guessing, the prawn bean curd rolls despite the fact I've never come across them before) but for £36pp including beers and tea, there are certainly worse ways to spend that amount of money. Oh and service was attentive and friendly, unlike certain way more famous places in Chinatown I can name...

Hong Kong Restaurant, then, succeeds on its own terms by being a decent (there's that word again) local restaurant charging a reasonable amount of money, and doing everything well enough to get itself firmly onto my 'If I'm in Angel and want a not-extortionate dinner' list. There really isn't that much more to say, and so hence the rather terse review. Some places are just good enough. And there's nothing wrong with that.

7/10

Hainan House, Angel

Hainan is an island off the south coast of China about the size of Vancouver Island - that makes it bigger than Sicily and Sardinia and twice the size of Hawaii, with a population of over 10 million people (more than London). And yet inevitably until last week I'd never heard of it. I make no excuses for this - my knowledge of the geography of China is pretty pathetic, and I should do better, but in a way it's the job (or at least partly the job) of these little regional super-specialist restaurants to draw attention to some of the bewildering variety of Chinese cuisine, much like Silk Road did for Xinjiang and Dream Xi'an and Master Wei did for Shaanxi.

So Hainan cuisine then, or rather Qiong cuisine which is how they describe it on their website, appears to involve quite a bit of poaching of meat instead of the Cantonese/Beijing style crisp-skinned roasts, matched with fragrant fermented herbs and vegetables and the occasional claypot rice dish. Hainanese chicken, for example, is a thing you may have heard of before as it turns up in a certain form on the Din Tai Fung menu and is one of my favourite things to order there. Once you get used to the idea of poached chicken (speaking as someone brought up in Liverpool and didn't have it until I was well into my thirties), it really is a very lovely thing indeed.

Anyway I'm getting ahead of myself. The lunch menu at £13.50 for a main and a side seemed an eminently reasonable place to start, and this is beef Hun - strips of dried beef which had a very interesting collapsey texture (not chewy at all) in a tofu beancurd sauce with lovely big fried tofu puffs adding a bit of gentle crunch. But almost my favourite element were the fermented mustard greens, lovely dark green chunks of pickled brassica which provided another level of punchy flavour.

We tried to share the duties of sides to cover as much of the menu as possible. My own choice was pickled mooli, brilliantly strongly flavoured with that familair pongy (in a good way) turnip-y aroma and very generous in portion size.

Tea eggs were also good, soft and subtly flavoured and although I would have perhaps liked a bit more seasoning, although maybe I'm just thinking of the salted egg you get with ramen and these had a different job to do. They still disappeared quickly enough.

And I didn't get to try any of the braised cabbage, as it got demolished when my back was turned, but by all accounts that was very good too.

Thinking we couldn't come all of this way without trying the famous Hainanese chicken, they kindly let us order a half portion of the poussin off the evening menu, and it didn't disappoint. Served at room temperature to showcase the delicate flavours at their best, every last bit was perfectly tender and perfectly seasoned, and the accompanying chilli-pickled pineapple was wildly addictive. I could have ordered a portion of that on its own. A little bowl of mushroom rice, fluffy and light and moreish, rounded off the savoury courses.

Service was alert and pleasant, but then as we were the only table occupied that Friday lunchtime, it was quite easy to command their attention. I'm hoping it's just a case of the word not getting out just yet about this dynamic little spot on Upper Street, because at prices like these - as I said, £13.50 for a main and a side, and £15 with a drink as well, even with service added on is a bit of a bloody bargain. And for the chance to try a style of Chinese regional food that hitherto hasn't been very visible in the capital, it's worth every penny and more.

Overall, there's really not much to fault about Hainan House. Boldly different, great value and smartly presented, even the hilariously precipitous journey to the loos, involving a crazily inclined staircase in three wildly different proportions, like something from a fairground fun house, just added to the charm. Whether it finds an audience rather depends on Londoners see authentic regional Chinese food coming out of Upper Street - even top ramen peddlers Kanada-Ya took a while to get going a few doors' down, even as people were queueing down the street for the St Giles branch. But, with a bit of luck, and a little time, they should do very well indeed. At least, they very much deserve to.

8/10

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Nanyang Blossom, Knightsbridge

For better or worse, every moment spent eating out in London is an education, and on a warm Tuesday evening last week I went to Knightsbridge to learn about Nanyang cuisine. It has a somewhat fluid definition, as these things often do, but generally refers to food from SE China and surrounding areas that have been under varying degrees of Chinese influence for the last few hundred years. So it's Chinese food with Malaysian, Burmese and Vietnamese on the side, with a bit of Indonesian and Filipino thrown in for good measure. And based on dinner at Nanyang Blossom, very nice it is too.

An amuse of marinated cherry tomatoes was a decent enough palate cleanser, although I'm afraid the tomatoes didn't compare very well with ones I'd been lucky enough to have access to in Spain over the last couple of weeks. This is not really anyone's fault - the Spanish tomatoes are amongst the best in the world, and don't travel very well - but these looked the part at least, and they'd gone to the effort of peeling them so they were fun to eat.

A second brief moan before I get onto the good stuff - a cocktail "Nyonya" was not great. Ostensibly containing both rum and tequila alongside cucumber and chilli, a combination of flavours I can very much get behind, it just tasted of nothing but sugared water and was pretty unpleasant. My photo of it didn't come out, though, so this is "Nanyang Blossom", which I didn't try but was apparently quite good. Despite the rather, er, challenging colour scheme.

Fortunately, from here on things took a dramatic turn for the better. This is a cute little basket of chicken rolls, sort of like spring rolls but I think made just from meat - at least, I didn't detect any pastry. They came with a very interesting - and pleasingly chillified - mustard dipping sauce which added personality and fire to the textures from the chicken rolls.

Prawn toast had a clever way of dealing with the rather grey and unappetising colour the prawn element is when you don't use artificial pink colouring (which the cheap stuff always does) - mix it with bright green seaweed. So with a covering of toasted almonds it looked a bit like some kind of pistachio cake, but on tasting was definitely luxurious and beguiling posh prawn toast, bursting with flavour and a range of addictive textures. This one went down very well.

Chicken satays - made with thighs, which as everyone knows is absolutely the best part of a chicken to grill - had a great texture and the satay sauce was beautifully balanced between sweet and savoury. We also hugely enjoyed some little pickled bits on the side - pineapple and cucumber I think amongst other things - alongside the usual peanut sauce.

Seafood fried rice had huge chunks of tender lobster, octopus and prawn touched with wood smoke from the grill, worth ordering by themselves, but the rice beneath was just extraordinary - fragrant and buttery and soft and everything that the best rice should be. They're pretty generous with the portions at Nanyang (as you might expect for Knightsbridge prices) but there was very little left of this by the end of the evening, it was just so easy to eat. A real standout.

Lemongrass chicken was, like all the other grilled items, supremely well done with nice dark crispy details and topped with a tamarind and mango kerisik - a dry toasted coconut condiment with Malaysian origins. Perhaps compared to the wonderful seafood rice this didn't have quite the punch of flavour but it was still very good.

A new dish on that day (we were told), these prawns came both as oatmeal-crust fritters topped in a (slightly sweet for me) curry sauce, and wok-fried in a cute little prawn cracker basket. It's pleasing to note that Nanyang Blossom are willing to keep swapping dishes in and out as the ingredients and seasonal availability change, suggesting that there will be plenty to engage with on repeat visits.

And finally from the savoury courses, lovely bright baby pak choi in a silky garlic-spiked dressing, a fine ingredient at its absolute best.

I liked some elements of the dessert, and not others. A completely unsweetened (as far as I could tell) rice cake topped with something fiercely gelatenous and bright green felt like something that should have been served with a main rather than as a dessert, and a little matcha (?) ball was equally savoury in style. But the crème brûlée underneath was excellent, with a good smoky crisp sugar topping, and I will be the first to admit that textures and flavour profiles of SE Asian restaurant desserts are not often my style. So there's every chance I'm just being picky.

As I said, eating out in London is an education, and Nanyang Blossom is as good as an introduction to this type of food as you could probably want in the city. Alongside Chinatown's YiQi it is a unashamedly mid- to high- end budget operation serving a pan-Asian menu of imaginative, interesting dishes that you will struggle to find anywhere else, or at least done this proficiently anywhere else. Not everything was absolutely perfect - the cocktails needed a bit of work, for a start - but there was enough surprising and delightful in the savoury courses to make the journey - and outlay (about £120/head including wines if we had been paying) - worth the effort. In this part of town, and with enough curiosity about this kind of food, they should do very well.

7/10

I was invited to Nanyang Blossom and didn't see a bill, but as above expect to pay about £120pp with drinks.