I have incredibly fond memories of Chinese food.
As kids, we’d get ridiculously excited, because it was so rare we got to enjoy it.
I remember arguments as everyone took ages to decide what they wanted. Someone had to have beef with cashew nuts, someone had to have sweet and sour. Prawn crackers were essential.
I remember the big wooden table in the kitchen covered in metal trays and white pieces of card. The smell of star anise and MSG, hot fried rice and the arguments as everyone gorged on what we saw as delicacies. It’s probably the reason why noodles are still one of my favourite treat dishes.
Oddly, we never went out to eat Chinese, it was only as a teen and older that I’ve done that – from the ‘All You Can Eat’ spots, to the more authentic with chicken feet, whelks and tofu on the menu.
But, and I’m a little ashamed as I write it, this was my first visit to the Yang Sing.
It’s a cliche, but in truth the Yang Sing is an institution. While we visited and indulged we saw families and people on dates, business meetings conducted over noodles and dim sum, tourists and those just out for a quiet evening alone.
We were here to review for Tasting Britain and I grabbed the opportunity to visit with both hands. It’s rare to find a restaurant in Manchester that’s older than I am and is still in the same family, the same guise so many years later.
And can I please just say, writing that sentence has made me feel rather ancient.
The restaurant itself is big. Very big. On quieter nights the main floor, on the same level as the kitchen, is the section that remains open, but a quick wander upstairs reveals more tables and chairs, enough to hold hundreds of people. The decor is dark and rich, and there are no tacky plastic dragons on the walls, this is mahogany and black, with spotlights above some of the tables providing perfect lighting for a food lover like me. Even the tea and prawn crackers look beautiful.
With prawn crackers to nibble on and tea to sip on, Moon, our (very) lovely hostess made some suggestions and we simply put ourselves in her hands – and those of Harry Yeung. Yes, the man himself was in the kitchen.
I was beginning to regret I’d eaten at all that day.
Indulging in their more expensive banquet menu, which at around £40 per head is still a bargain, dim sum were our first course. Tender pieces of pork atop chilled jellyfish, grilled dumplings and one of their most popular dishes, with prawn stuffed chilli, battered and deep fried.
It’s easy to see why it’s so popular. Onto the steamed options, with the beef and ginger standing out for me, lip-smackingly good.
And as he was feeling generous, Mr Yeung sent out the most incredible pork I’ve ever eaten. And I’ve eaten a lot of pork. Thin crisp skin, atop soft, tender meat, the flavour perfectly porky. I’m trying not to drool as I write.
So good.
Our first course (yes, that was just the first) done, we drank some tea and eagerly awaited the next. Something a little more meaty was on the menu. Pork ribs in a sweet and sour sauce unlike anything you’d see at a takeaway or cheaper restaurant. Served with a bread that’s deep fried to create a crisp shiny outer and soft chewy inside.
It begs the question, why do we have such rich sweet cheap sweet and sour sauces on our takeaway food, when this is so much better?
Our other meat course, was ostrich, served with an intense lemongrass sauce, thick and satisfying.
I love the tenderness of ostrich, it’s one of the leanest meats in the world and has an almost game-like flavour. The lemongrass sauce was much more than the light sweet flavour from Thai food, this was much more layered and deep.
Wow. This was enough food for any couple, but we still had three courses to go. The most luxurious of which was next.
Lobster. A rare treat, we once again left our flavour selections to our hosts and it didn’t disappoint. The light curry sauce, with crisp curry leaves, wouldn’t have been an obvious choice. I’d have worried about the curry overwhelming the light flesh of the lobster, but the creamy meat melded with the soft buttery sauce and though we were feeling incredibly full, we still all but cleaned the plate.
With two courses to come and having spent two hours sampling, we had a little break before our penultimate course. Our seats gave us the perfect vantage point to watch the staff and customers. I’m an avid people watcher.
I could see the staff regularly circling, checking on the comfort of customers – though we were there to review, we received the same amount of care and attention as the other guests and it was this that further endeared me to the team here. A gentleman had an issue with his wine – this was dealt with without fuss and an alternative wine selected.
This was service.
Our next course was the main and we were feeling a little concerned it was going to be our ‘wafer thin mint’ moment.
Oh boy.
Steamed sea bass with spring onions and ginger, scallop fried rice, pak choi in a deep stock and then, a little theatre for our table.
Perfect.
But mere mouthfuls later, I worried deeply about the waistband of my skirt. With visions of causing damage through rogue buttons bursting off, we spoke to Moon and admitted our failure.
Plates were cleared, doggie bags produced. There is no shame ever in taking a doggie bag home. In fact, there was enough food to feed us two nights in a row.
Though desserts appeared in the form of fruit to cleanse the palate and refresh and tiny coconut tartlets, sweet and chewy, we barely nibbled.
The Yang Sing is better than I ever expected, and won’t leave it another *mumble mumble* years before I visit again.
In short, go.
It’s the only time I’ve ever walked away from a restaurant feeling drunk on food.
With huge thanks to Moon, Mr Yeung and the team at the Yang Sing, we were spoilt completely and have never eaten like it before or since.
As ever, a meal supplied, doesn’t ensure a positive review. In this case, however, I’m very grateful as I should have visited here a long time ago. I’ve been missing out.