I was once told by a Chinese food expert that the key to ordering a successful Chinese meal was to balance the yin and the yang: the soft and the crunchy; the fiery and the soothing; the salty and the unsalted. The process can take a fair while for novices to master when presented with a menu as long as the Yangtze, and in my case has even involved a notepad full of lists, pointing arrows and Venn diagrams – as tetchiness increased in my fellow hungry diners.
What was then, and too often still is, the case is that set menus in Chinese restaurants are to be avoided – even at top venues attracting strong support from Britain’s Chinese communities. Rather than carefully balancing enticing dishes that the chef wants to showcase, these menus more usually consist of the same tired collection of chicken and cashew nuts, beef in black bean sauce, mixed vegetables in a gloopy, salty sauce and fried rice: excessive yang, minimal yin.
Switch to post-pandemic Modern British establishments, and the inexorable rise of the no-choice tasting menu. Once, this was the preserve of the most exalted chefs, a practical treatise on their artistry: innovation, flavours, colours, textures, all finely balanced. Such gastronomic masterpieces still exist, of course, but they have been joined by a plethora of also-rans where restaurants aiming to cut costs have combined with chefs anxious to throw the entire kitchen sink of their cherished culinary repertoire into a menu of six courses (perhaps more). Little thought is applied to the balance of the menu as a whole. Deep-fried food might precede a rich stew followed by a creamy dessert – with the odd salty or sugary snack thrown in to make up the numbers. Vegetable dishes sport crispy garnishes or rest in oily, vinegary dressings: sometimes both. I can’t be the only diner craving to gulp down water at the end of the evening.
What is lacking is the confidence to plate simple, unadorned ingredients: plain steamed rice; newly dug potatoes; tomatoes at the peak of ripeness; just-picked sugar-snap peas. Not only can such dishes be a treat to savour on their own (and I include freshly baked bread without butter among their number), they act as a foil, a counterbalance to the noisy flavours and assertive crunch of the yang food, making it all the more enjoyable. Yes, some might call these supporting acts bland, but they lend a meal that elusive, exceptional quality: poise.
— Inspector HP
Tired of tasting menus reigning supreme? Vote for your favourite local restaurant here.
