For a restaurant, forty-eight years is a significant lifespan. And for one in Delhi, where the culinary scene never settles and food trends change by the season, such longevity inspires nothing short of awe. House of Ming, at the Taj Mahal on Mansingh Road, will complete five decades of its love affair with the city in less than two years’ time, during which it has slowly and surely charted a course to become Delhi’s It Chinese restaurant. You know, the kind that becomes a part of the city’s cultural fabric. The restaurant’s Sichuan, Cantonese and Hunan cooking has helped establish a more sophisticated idea of Chinese cuisine in Delhi, during the decades when much of what passed for ‘Chinese’ in India was far removed from the traditions it, well, appropriated. Parents took their children to the restaurant, and those children returned as adults; their favourite dishes, by then, acquiring the strange permanence of childhood memories.
Legacy Meets London
But when House of Ming arrived in London, I was less interested in understanding whether it could replicate its legacy outlet brick-by-brick, and more so on ascertaining if it can adapt itself to a London clientele, while capturing a piece of the city it embodies, of course. And a quick glance at the establishment situated in St James’ Court (a short walk from Buckingham Palace), is enough to answer this question, the brand’s Chinese identity is retained, but there is no attempt to turn London into a replica of Mansingh Road. Because London is, after all, London. As for the interior, celadon ceramics, antique pieces, and curated furniture and handmade artwork draw explicitly from Chinese aesthetics, minus any unnecessary theatricality. Otherwise, the setting is themed in shades of green and vibrant red.
And what of the plate?
This, really, is where the London experiment becomes interesting. Sichuan and Cantonese remain its anchors, but the menu gives both traditions plenty of room to breathe. There are the more recognisable indulgences; Peking Duck, Cantonese-style roasted duck, Sichuan Wagyu beef in hot chilli broth and quick-fried lamb with cumin. The dim sum selection gives so much weight to the vegetarian fare, with mushroom and truffle, edamame with smoked chilli, crystal pickled-vegetable dumplings, being some of the standouts. Then there are dishes such as Ma Po tofu, Sichuan eggplant, five-treasure mushroom, stir-fried Chinese greens, lotus root and water chestnut, which suggest that the London diner is being invited to explore beyond the familiar chicken-and-noodles shorthand of Indian Chinese dining.
The London menu also seems more willing to let the meal stretch beyond the conventions of a standard Chinese restaurant visit. There is a Tea Sommelier-curated selection, weekday lunch, and an Imperial Dining menu, allowing the restaurant to shift from a quick central-London meal into something considerably more leisurely. Perhaps that is the cleverest part. It has retained the flavours and techniques that made the Delhi restaurant matter, while allowing London’s more internationally travelled palate to have a say in what comes next.
Whatever said and done, London cannot compete with forty-eight years of accumulated dinners, friendships, and family rituals, but it also doesn’t need to. One House of Ming carries the weight of memory. The other has the freedom of possibility.
Read more: Savouring London One Bite At A Time
