This appreciation quota is a bit of a teenage hangover that everyone, once in a while, suffers from. Get in the way of an angry Scouser’s dinner at your peril. That now your mum, her neighbour and the fella at the barbers knows about their glistening £9 mountains of soft and savoury beef ho fun, that a restaurant’s quota for appreciation has been filled. The problem is that there’s a school of thought that once a restaurant, even one as modest and consistent as Dim Sum & Duck, has reached this echelon of hype, that praise is somehow less worthwhile. Enormous chunks of prawn the size of a baby’s fist bobbing about in a salty pork broth. The wontons in soup were pretty good too. Incidentally, that night, the crispy chilli beef was a lurid-tasting masterclass. And it’s part and parcel of recommending restaurants. The last time we ate at Dim Sum & Duck it was a Tuesday night, there was a hungry queue of people snaking down the pavement and a mildly flustered Liverpudlian desperately trying to book one of their ten or so tables inside for a week in advance because “their phone always rings out”. We devoured it, we went across the road to the offy for more drinks, and then we ordered more. Rich and delicate xiaolongbao, slippery cheung fun, artful prawn and chive dumplings. Outside dining was the only option in May 2021 and so too was BYOB from across the road. The sun was setting tangerine and lilac down King’s Cross Road, James Turrell-ing all three empty tables outside the Cantonese restaurant. The first time we ate at Dim Sum & Duck it was a Wednesday evening.
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