This is the newly opened younger brother of the famous soup dumpling restaurant in Taiwan. I’ve always wanted to go there, so I can’t so no to it’s sibling. A small line awaits us at the door. After a brief twenty minutes we are seated. Waiters rushing around. The glass wall kitchen full of chefs. At least fifteen. Rolling dough, stuffing, steaming. Twenty minutes in we finally can order the goodness. We order three small dishes. One of them the famous Xiao Long Bao. And boy, do they deliver. Tender, sweet, salty, juicy. The broth, subtle but sexy. The dough, soft like silk. We want more. We order another six. We wait. We wait. And we wait. After half an hour we signal our waitress. She looks a little worried but tells us it will be there soon. We wait. And wait. And wait again. The after taste of the broth slowly leaving our mouth. After one hour we decide it’s enough. We ask our waitress to cancel the bill. She leaves. Ten minutes later she’s back. She says it will not be long. But we’re good. We settle the bill. Outside a queue of at least a hundred hungry people waiting to get in.
The food: amazing. Paying £50 for eleven dumplings and two drinks while being inside for two hours: not so much. I get it. Sometimes things crash. But how you deal with these moments defines you just as much as your food does.
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