The best fancy dim sum in Hong Kong

London is the greatest city in the world for sure, but its dim sum is rubbish. There are exceptions, at the highest price points, but for years I’ve had to put up with friends saying “oh don’t you just love the Royal China?”, to which I reply: “No, I really don’t. It’s mediocre at best and the soup dumplings are an abomination.” Which I stand by. But for some reason everyone has convinced themselves otherwise. Although I’m not sure if that’s still the case, what with the allegations of slave labour and all. Also, don’t come at me with your love for Dim Sum Duck. If you have a spare hour to wait in the rain in King’s Cross for a dumpling, you should take up a hobby or do some volunteering. And yes, I have been. Back when you could book. And it was nice.

Please get bent with that, or plaster your mad policy all over the front door

Dim sum is one of the few things that New York does better than London, although my previous go-to Café China is on my Forever Black List after the staff had a fight with my table about daring to want to put four cards down for four diners. (Please get bent with that, or plaster your mad policy all over the front door so I can piss off somewhere else without causing a scene). Hong Kong, by comparison, is a nirvana for all things steamed, puffed, and presented in trios in baskets. I spent a week recently, visiting various celebrated spots in the spendier category of Cantonese and found a lot to love. And a few things to love a lot less.

Mott 32 is now a global chain, of the swanky Hakkasan/Nobu franchise variety. The mothership is at the bottom of an escalator in the Standard Chartered Building on Des Vouex Road Central. It’s one of those typically hard-to-find Hong Kong restaurants in a business block, even though it should be straightforward. There are a lot of glowing electronic tablets, headsets, and customer handovers between staff at various levels and points. The room, designed by Joyce Wang to resemble a Chinese apothecary, with romantic washed-out murals on concrete walls, is so gorgeous that you will immediately suspect a case of style over substance. But the food is dynamite. If this was in London (and one is coming), I’d be binge eating by myself monthly. The Mott 32 take on xiaolongbao with Iberico pork is possibly the best soup dumpling I’ve ever had. I’m never excited by veggie dim sum,  but their veg dumpling with bamboo fungus and pumpkin sauce is next level. They also do something clever with a soft-boiled qual egg in a pork and truffle shumai which is impressive, although more of a stunt dish than it is truly delicious. Then there’s the mega lobster har gow with ham that involves one of those little plastic pipettes to shoot it up with broth. There isn’t a dud dish on the menu at Mott 32. It’s a flashy gem.

Also in a basement, but trickier to find, is Yat Tung Heen in the Eaton hotel. If you take the stairs, it feels like you may be about to hit Hadestown. This is a trad business and family restaurant in the city centre, where everything is done well, without any big surprises. All the dumplings are obviously freshly made, and superb, but the real discovery are the pan-fried mud carp fish patties with preserved meat and coriander. It’s worth making it down the stairs just for this dish. Also—at HK$58 (less than £6)—it is, like everything on the menu, a steal.

I loved the London outpost of Duddell’s during its short-lived residency in a converted old church Southwark. I also used to like the Hong Kong original, which has now become such a corporate success that it brands dishes on the menu of Cathay Pacific flights. The dumplings are still okay—served all evening in the Salon and outdoor terrace—but they are far from innovative now. And the once flashy looking interiors look stained and weathered. There are worse places to spend an evening though. And it’s still better than most places in London.

The aforementioned Yat Tung Heen wears its Michelin star lightly, while the two at Lung King Heen at the Four Seasons are a source of pride, tinged with anxiety, as they once had three (the first Chinese restaurant in the world to score the hat trick). This is one of the most polished dining rooms in the city, with widescreen harbour views, and big personality staff. I have no idea what made Michelin knock a star off, because this is as good as Cantonese gets. The place is elegant and modern, and after you’ve done the dumplings, the wok-friend Australian beef tenderloin will take you to heaven. Of the dim sum selection, the steamed pork with spicy termite mushroom and peanuts is a standout, as is the baked pineapple bun with barbecued pork and pine nuts (pictured top). This is absolutely one of the five best Chinese restaurants I’ve ever been to. Perhaps top three. Just when you think you can’t love it more, the  chilled mango and sago cream dessert with pomelo lands, and you know you’ve found The One.

Closer in spirit to Yat Tung Heen, as a city-centre high-end business clientele lunch spot, Ying Jee Club is another restaurant hidden away in a shopping and office complex. Again, I wandered for 10 minutes trying to find a door, or even the right escalator, to get into it. Ying Jee Club also has two Michelin stars, and the pork dumplings with shrimp mousse and scallop are everything you’re looking for in a bamboo basket. Most surprising was how moreish the crispy rice flour rolls are—sticky and crunchy, and utterly delicious. This is a great place to sink several founds of steamed goodies, and maybe a bottle of champagne (which I did).

Spring Moon

My final stop—Spring Moon at The Peninsula, which gets packed before midday, and is beloved by Hongkongers. The room is a classically styled Chinese restaurant, with swish staff, silver objet on the tables and stained art deco windows rather than views. Again, it’s a single Michelin star spot, but feels much more luxury than business-oriented. The steamed Hungarian mangalica pork buns are essential, as are the  Sicilian shrimp and mince pork dumplings (seems like a long way for prawns to come but so be it). The absolute must is the steamed blue lobster dumpling with shrimp, pork, egg white, water chestnut, celery and spinach sauce. This is a delicious, gelatinous, mind trick—it comes in the guise of a handsome goldfish (above), in a little pond of green sauce. When I posted the dish on Instagram, I had several shocked DMS, asking how a pet that you might win from a coconut shy stall might taste. “Wonderful!” I replied to each, leaving them thinking it was the real deal. Which in one sense it was—so far removed from the defrosted crap sold at ambitious prices on London’s Gerrard Street. There’s no excuse for any decent Chinese kitchen to be buying in their dumplings from a factory. Just as there shouldn’t be any reason to queue for something decent. I’d rather fly to Hong Kong instead. C