Review: Min Jiang
Travelling up in the lift of the plush Royal Garden Hotel, my friend and I felt very smug. If a restaurant is in ensconced in a hotel – tucked away on the 10th floor, no less – surely it can only be frequented by those in the know?
Turns out that when it comes to Min Jiang, lauded as London’s most authentic Chinese restaurant, there are quite a few people in the know. Despite its discreet location the room was buzzing on a Thursday night, and the vibe was very much one of celebration. The décor is elegant and vaguely corporate, but with oriental scents wafting in from the kitchen, an enormous wine list, and one of the best panoramic views in the city, people flock here for pleasure rather than business.
Starting with a couple of meticulously-made cocktails (a tart White Lady for me, a sweet Lycee Martini for my friend) we whetted our appetite with Asian nibbles as we waited for our table. As moreish as these chilli nuts are, however, it is wise to abstain, as we discovered when we sat down for the first of many courses.
To begin with we sampled the Dim Sum platter: a bamboo basket of four colourful varieties of the bite-size dish. All the fillings were rich, hot and textured, wrapped in the usual chewy rice flour casing. The pumpkin and scallop dim sum was especially good, its natural sweetness brought out by the careful steaming. We also went for a starter of spring rolls which are always a good benchmark for any Chinese establishment. Min Jiang’s did not disappoint – they were hearty, fragrant, and nicley crunchy.
Min Jiang is famous for its woodfired duck, and guests are encouraged to pre-order so that it can be cooked to perfection. It is delivered in two servings with much pomp and flair. First a dab-handed chef carves the bird into fine slices at the table, presenting it with the traditional pancakes. Along with the usual fillings of cucumber, shredded leek and plum sauce, you also receive a trio of white radish, Tientsin cabbage and garlic paste. Both combinations are delicious, and the stack of pancakes seems to go on forever. Making the most of every cut, you are offered delicate slices of skin from the neck of the bird, which you then dip in caster sugar. It’s probably terribly bad for you, but the combination of fat and sugar is divine.
The staff are attentive without being overbearing, and ensure that you are never waiting too long for the next instalment of food. The second duck serving falls mercifully on the healthier end of the spectrum, which finely chopped and lightly sauced poultry served on little rounds on iceberg lettuce. Part canapé, part deconstructed salad, it feels like you’re eating grown-up party food.
Even after a starter and two servings of duck, the mains are worth indulging in. My pork belly with Chinese leek was both rich and fresh, and generous in size. My friend’s shrimp and cashew nut, however, stole the show: the meatiness of the prawns were offset nicely by the sweet creaminess of the cashews, and the sauce binding it all together was sweet without being sickly. Rice is largely unnecessary, but the vegetable egg fried rice was tasty nonetheless.
My friend and I took the stairs back down the hotel lobby in an effort to offset the enormous volume of food consumed. Initial smugness now overwhelmed by satiation, we agreed that Min Jiang is a gem of a restaurant, albeit a not-so-hidden one. Next time we’ll take the stairs up so we can eat even more.
www.minjiang.co.uk
Turns out that when it comes to Min Jiang, lauded as London’s most authentic Chinese restaurant, there are quite a few people in the know. Despite its discreet location the room was buzzing on a Thursday night, and the vibe was very much one of celebration. The décor is elegant and vaguely corporate, but with oriental scents wafting in from the kitchen, an enormous wine list, and one of the best panoramic views in the city, people flock here for pleasure rather than business.
Starting with a couple of meticulously-made cocktails (a tart White Lady for me, a sweet Lycee Martini for my friend) we whetted our appetite with Asian nibbles as we waited for our table. As moreish as these chilli nuts are, however, it is wise to abstain, as we discovered when we sat down for the first of many courses.
To begin with we sampled the Dim Sum platter: a bamboo basket of four colourful varieties of the bite-size dish. All the fillings were rich, hot and textured, wrapped in the usual chewy rice flour casing. The pumpkin and scallop dim sum was especially good, its natural sweetness brought out by the careful steaming. We also went for a starter of spring rolls which are always a good benchmark for any Chinese establishment. Min Jiang’s did not disappoint – they were hearty, fragrant, and nicley crunchy.
Min Jiang is famous for its woodfired duck, and guests are encouraged to pre-order so that it can be cooked to perfection. It is delivered in two servings with much pomp and flair. First a dab-handed chef carves the bird into fine slices at the table, presenting it with the traditional pancakes. Along with the usual fillings of cucumber, shredded leek and plum sauce, you also receive a trio of white radish, Tientsin cabbage and garlic paste. Both combinations are delicious, and the stack of pancakes seems to go on forever. Making the most of every cut, you are offered delicate slices of skin from the neck of the bird, which you then dip in caster sugar. It’s probably terribly bad for you, but the combination of fat and sugar is divine.
The staff are attentive without being overbearing, and ensure that you are never waiting too long for the next instalment of food. The second duck serving falls mercifully on the healthier end of the spectrum, which finely chopped and lightly sauced poultry served on little rounds on iceberg lettuce. Part canapé, part deconstructed salad, it feels like you’re eating grown-up party food.
Even after a starter and two servings of duck, the mains are worth indulging in. My pork belly with Chinese leek was both rich and fresh, and generous in size. My friend’s shrimp and cashew nut, however, stole the show: the meatiness of the prawns were offset nicely by the sweet creaminess of the cashews, and the sauce binding it all together was sweet without being sickly. Rice is largely unnecessary, but the vegetable egg fried rice was tasty nonetheless.
My friend and I took the stairs back down the hotel lobby in an effort to offset the enormous volume of food consumed. Initial smugness now overwhelmed by satiation, we agreed that Min Jiang is a gem of a restaurant, albeit a not-so-hidden one. Next time we’ll take the stairs up so we can eat even more.
www.minjiang.co.uk