Its A Wonderful Life
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Queues can be misleading. So can reviews. And yes, so can the fact that it’s run by actual Chinese people. You’d think you’re about to experience the culinary equivalent of a first-class ticket to Hong Kong. Spoiler: not quite.
When I visited, the place was packed. There was a queue snaking outside, which usually signals “worth the wait.” Inside? Let’s just say “cozy” is putting it politely. Tables are an elbow’s length apart — the kind of setup where you could accidentally season your neighbour’s soup just by sneezing. The entire atmosphere practically screams: eat fast, pay fast, get out.
I ordered the Yeung Chow Fried Rice, expecting a comforting classic. What I got was a plate of dry, uninspired grains that tasted like they’d been emotionally neglected. The BBQ pork carried a strange smell, which is never the sort of complexity you want in your protein. As someone who’s spent three decades abroad cooking this dish to perfection for myself and friends (and I’m no pro chef), this was a deep disappointment — especially from a place claiming authentic Chinese fare.
Thankfully, redemption came in the form of the Sui Kao Soup (Prawn Dumplings). Generous filling, fresh springy prawns, and a savoury broth that whispered, “I’ve got you.” If the fried rice was the villain of this story, the Sui Kao was the unexpected hero.
Portions here are massive. For those of us used to Asian serving sizes, this is borderline shocking — my order could easily feed three people. Service is exactly what you’d expect from an old-school Chinese restaurant: no frills, no chit-chat, just efficiency. They serve, you eat, you pay, you leave. Respectable in its own way.
Prices? Slightly steep, but given the location’s tourist density, it’s almost a tax you pay for existing in this postcode.
Would I come back? Maybe — but only for the Sui Kao. And perhaps to people-watch the queue of unsuspecting optimists outside.