YiQi

Pot luck? Shooting fish in a barrel? Playing piñata blindfold? Even for seasoned Londoners, searching for a good restaurant in Chinatown can be an overwhelming and random pastime. Not to say all the restaurants are bad because they’re not but with so many options how do you choose one over the other?  Gerrard Street has pretty much nothing but identical eateries on both sides. With a few pubs and pizza places thrown in for good measure, the Wardour Street stretch from Shaftesbury Avenue to Lisle Street is the same. And of course, the north of Lisle Street is, again, chockablock. Most restaurants seem authentic enough and almost all are run by Chinese staff. 

Yiqi, towards the Wardour Street end of Lisle Street, can boast, however, what most, if not all, in the vicinity can not; a chef who’s worked at finer dining establishments Hakkasan and Yautcha. Malaysian-born Lum Wah Cheok took over the Hong Kong Buffet site and opened his new venture at the beginning of the year. With its teal exterior and cordoned-off pavement dining, there’s nothing to immediately suggest it’s any different from any other Chinatown experience but cooking techniques extend beyond sweet and sour to include Western-style sous-vide, Japanese-style grilling over Binchotan charcoal and teppanyaki iron plate dishes. Expect, therefore, pan-Asian rather than straight-up Chinese. 

As you enter on the left, above the bar and service space, a cinema-style trapping of words glows in three of four languages. ‘Welcome’, ‘Satay Salad’ and the more obtuse ‘Childhood radish ricecake’ are the English ones. The interior is buzzing with staff and diners alike for an unpretentious, convivial atmosphere. There’s a relatively high turnover of the latter and breezy discussions and laughter (happy, not drunken) drown out the background music. The main dining space is towards Yiqi’s back where more teal dominates and compliments dark wooden window slats. There’s even a partition behind our table made up almost entirely of abaci. 

We ordered an emerald green Sally Margarita which comes with what looks like a mussel on its top but is, in fact, dried Sally fruit, a kind of dwarf apple. It’s a long drink and eschews a margarita’s more traditional sourness for a super sweetness. It helps us navigate some of the more adventurous items on the menu. Pork trotters with butterfly noodles? Sichimi salt pepper fried frog legs? My friend’s a vegetarian and I’m feeling a little more traditional. Apart from the kumquats, the King oyster mushroom and kumquat salad looks like a trade description act mistake. Sure, there’s plenty of lettuce but what about the mushrooms? And what are the abundance of what look like curls of spring crackers? They’re actually chunks of crunchy tofu skin and the mushrooms are hidden at the plate’s bottom, are plentiful and cut into thin slices. An orange sauce provides the dish with a pleasing spiciness. 

My salt and pepper baby squid is fresh and generous in portion. The squid is eminently moreish and the breadcrumbs are infused with a red and green pepper tang. My vegetarian friend is sufficiently jealous to adopt a fleeting pescatarian leaning and snacks on a few squid rings when his conscience isn’t looking. He reverts to form, however,  for the main and chooses a stir-fried asparagus with kale and lily bulbs. The dish is clean, fresh, al dente and a slice of red pepper bursts forth to provide a bold visual contrast to the majority of the plate’s green. The accompanying egg-fried rice is light, succulent and fluffy. 

My main course deserves a review in itself, maybe a novella, a mini dissertation, is nothing short of epic. It’s probably best ordered to share; it’s large enough and certainly messy enough. It looks like carnage from a muddy world war. A mountain of unidentifiable bones and shells shimmer in a large casserole bowl, are accompanied by plastic gloves which remind of a murder scene. Four dainty rolls are served to scoop up the orange sauce and metal instruments in the form of forks and bone crackers defy the diner not to use them. Yes, this is Malaysian curry crab. The curry is mild, and made of so many spices that it’s hard to pinpoint any specific ones. There are several legs, always the fiddliest, hardest part of the crab to crack, and for the least reward. I try to put the gloves on but they seem broken so go in naked-handed. Definitely a mistake, albeit a pleasant, finger-licking one. The claws are the best reward; easier to open and with more meat which is slick and smooth, marble like in appearance.

The main crab shell comes with its own offal but, even if you’re a little squeamish, it’s impossible to be affronted since the curry adds texture, flavour and a kind of visual, if dripping clothing. At some point, I ask our waiter about the gloves and he opens them effortlessly. I put them on but this is also a mistake as my hands become a stickier mess and I can’t lick them even vaguely clean. Our conversation wanes as I concentrate on cracking, forking, slurping, and mopping up. By the end of the dish, I was satisfied but exhausted. There’s next to no curry or crab meat left but I need to retire to the bathroom to wash my hands. 

Yiqi only has two desserts. An ABC (Ais Kacang/ Air Batu Campur) which is best shared between four people and a Taro with black rice ice cream for one or two. We opt for the latter which is presented in an exotic art deco glass. With a scoop of lavender-coloured ice cream, a red raspberry and a small, green basil leaf, with what looks like two nachos sticking out of it, the dessert is possessed of a glamourous edge. The nachos are actually dried taro and have a lemon tartness which compliments the sweeter rice ice cream. It’s a unique and satisfying way to end the evening and proof that if you want your Chinatown experience to be more adventurous, less MSG homogenous, Yiqi is the place for you.