This week I visit two new Chinese restaurants, both from experienced operators in the Dublin restaurant scene and both competing in the pocket-friendly, casual Chinese food space. Let’s see how I got on.
CN Dumpling
Located on Montague Street, CN Dumpling comes from the same stable as Zakura Sushi. Although it looks small, it’s deceptively spacious with several large booths tucked away to the rear.
As the name would suggest, there are indeed dumplings, including steamed, grilled, boiled, snowflake style or in Sichuan chili broth. They are cooked to order and arrive mid-way through our other plates. Prawn dumplings (€9 for 5) in a squid ink wrapper (which is thick enough to maintain structural integrity throughout the steaming process) have a light chewy texture with a hint of toasted sesame. I must admit here that I think deeply about structural integrity of food. Snowflake style pork and cabbage dumplings (€10.50 for 5) are delightfully crusty, with a coarser texture and meatier flavour.
The rest of the menu is xiao chi, or small plates which are mostly priced around €9-€10. This in my view is a clever way of providing smaller portions of Chinese food while extracting optimum money from diners. We order the Sichuan chicken (€9.90), Ma Po tofu (€8.50) and wok tossed seasonal greens (€8.80). We add one steamed jasmine rice (€4) between us to put some fàn on our plates.
Despite a ‘3 chili’ rating, the Sichuan chicken (no provenance provided) isn’t that hot, but it does have enough Sichuan pepper to keep me somewhat interested. Ma Po tofu, a traditionally rich and fiery Sichuan classic, is fairly muted, as are the seasonal greens, even if bright and crunchy.
On the plus side, staff are helpful and friendly, and a Sichuan Hot Girl cocktail (€12), prettily decorated with a chili flower, is a clever take on a spicy margarita.
In summary, it feels like CN Dumplings is playing safe, going for crowd-pleasing muted dishes. The small portion sizes will probably work well with larger groups who can order to fill the table, but as two diners, we found it a bit on the light side. The smart money is on the dumplings and the €12.50 lunchtime bento boxes.
Biang Biang
Across the river on narrow Mary Street, the owners of Little Dumpling and Nan Chinese have opened Biang Biang, specialising in hand-pulled flat wheat noodles traditional to the city of Xi’an in Shaanxi province.
Interestingly, the restaurant was originally to be called “Meet Xi’an”, but the owners of the Xi’an Street Food chain were not impressed and a court case followed. To me, this is somewhat akin to two Cork people both wanting to name their restaurant Cork, but either way, matters were settled out of court, and now it’s called Biang Biang.
It’s small inside, seating just 20 people and diners are asked to share tables during busy times. You wouldn’t want to be self-conscious about your noodle slurping here. In the kitchen, it’s possible to see the chefs stretching and slapping the thick, ribbon noodles for each order, hence the onomatopoeic biang biang moniker.
It’s a short menu with impressive provenance, including F.X. Buckley, Andarl Farm and Silver Hill Duck. You can choose from roujiamo (often called Chinese burger, but in my opinion more akin to a saladless kebab), cold Liang Pi noodles, dumplings or the biang biang noodles.
Vegetarian dumplings with shredded carrots, black fungus and courgette (€9 for 6) are more delicate than those of CN Dumpling, and come with a touch of fragrant broth and hot chilly [sic] oil in a takeaway bowl. I had been warned when ordering that they could take up to 20 minutes, but thankfully it takes less time. They’re really quite good, and I make sure to dip each one into the broth before enjoying.
Pork mince zhajiang biang biang noodles come topped with diced carrot, green beans and potato, fried pork mince and wilted greens (€12.50). I’ve paid €1 extra for chilly oil, but I simply don’t taste it. I should have just used the sesame chilli oil provided on the tables.
The noodles themselves are thick and chewy, and I find it’s best to swirl them around, coating them in the toppings, before wrangling them to my mouth. Overall, it’s not very intensely flavoured but quite nice, somewhat akin to what I’d imagine a Chinese bolognese to be like.
As I eat my lunch, a good number of Chinese or Asian people come and go, slurping down noodles at a pace much faster than me. Biang Biang is clearly providing something that people want.