CityLife

Little Yang Sing Restaurant

TRENDY, young public relations companies or chic restaurateurs could have a field day with Manchester’s Chinatown.

The Chinese Quarter or Chinafields – as it would be renamed – would be full of smart, open plan eateries with glass orchids and steel dragons.

And the famous Chinese Arch would be replaced by a minimalist concrete number representing diversity or some other feelgood philosophy.

But luckily Chinatown, along with Rusholme’s Curry Mile, has survived the post-modern makeover (perhaps, Flywheel, Shyster and Flywheel fear contradicting their Free Tibet edict) and I, for one, am extremely grateful.

Not that I’m unhappy with the stylish bars and restaurants that have emerged as Manchester takes its place as one of Europe’s vibrant cities but it is important that recent history isn’t completely airbrushed from the records.

Dishes from the local takeaway are tasty enough but eating out in Chinatown is a reminder that the food comes from something other than a foil container.

Chinatown’s supermarkets spill over with bags of exotic spices while the magnificent Chinese writing spells out a proud heritage rather than the name of a Gucci-wearing sprog tattooed to a half-witted footballer’s pyramidalis.

Among the 30-odd Oriental restaurants in the area, is the quiet yet popular Little Yang Sing on the corner of George Street.

Seventies

Although not associated with the acclaimed and stylish Princess Street venue Yang Sing, it does occupy the site where it established its name, after opening in the late Seventies.

Arriving, the crimson walls are a stark welcome but, despite the Twins Peaks nightmare vision, the place is actually pretty cosy.

Like many restaurants in Chinatown, the dining room is below ground level with windows from the pavement showing the outside world racing by – a reminder of exactly why its so much more pleasant to take time out and enjoy good company and a delicious meal.

Miniature terracotta warriors stand guard around the room while authentic Chinese music plays subtly rather than irritatingly in the background.

In front of the clay statues stands a phalanx of waiters and waitresses surveying the room, ready to pounce on anyone who needs them.

So, not surprisingly, barely a minute has gone before we’ve ordered a couple of Tsingtao Chinese lagers.

The menu is pretty extensive and offers some luxury alternatives including some noticeable fish dishes such as steamed sea bass or turbot in black bean sauce (£1.25/oz) and baked lobster with ginger and spring onion.

Deliberated

I deliberated long over the 200-plus dishes on offer – and the help of a couple more Tsingtaos – to make the decision. I opted for a starter of meatball and c-weed soup (£3.50) followed by salt and pepper squid (£9.95).

But after giving the order to the waitress, she suggested that I should have the squid as a starter or, if I insisted on having it as a main, then to choose an accompanying sauce – she recommended sweet and sour.

So having asked for a couple of minutes to reconsider my options a different waiter appeared and when I told him I wanted the squid to start he look quizzically at me and said: “But that is a main course?”

Going back to my original option, I said I’d have it for the main but asked if I needed a sauce with it.

He answered ‘no’ and gave me a funny look – fairly similar to the one I would give my companion, Jessica, later in the evening when she claimed George Formby had been in the Rumble In The Jungle documentary we’d seen the previous evening.

So, rather than go back and forth, I decided to listen to him.

Proclaims

The Little Yang Sing’s website proclaims that it specialises in dim sum so Jessica chose ow yuk dumplings (£3).

The three steamed beef balls were worth bragging about with the ginger and spring onion adding a delicate tang.

My soup, which I’d reverted back to, was refreshing but, I must admit, the dumpling I snaffled in the name of research was much more enjoyable.

And I was to get it wrong again with the main courses. Jessica went for the chilli sliced lamb fillet in kunpo style with cashew nuts (£9.95).

It was unspectacular; the lamb meat was a bit like a donner kebab and the ginger chunks were far too big and overpowering but, despite this, she said she enjoyed it.

My squid was cooked well – not too chewy, which is always the fear when ordering it – and the flavouring complemented it well.

But, accompanied by just rice, it was just so incredibly dry – like eating a plate of water biscuits.

All I could think of was the Peter Kay anecdote about going to a London chip shop. Upon being told that they didn’t have gravy, curry or mushy peas, he says: “’As thou got owt moist?” Something I was dying to grab the waiter and tell him.

After that I needed a sweet. Of course, this is not generally a preserve of Chinese restaurants but the ice cream fritter was uncomplicated and rather pleasant.

Overall, the food could have been better but the Little Yang Sing is a relaxed and friendly night out. And, as people celebrate the Chinese New Year, the focus will fall once again on Chinatown.

There will be dragon and lion dances, kung fu demonstrations, fireworks and the spectacular Golden Dragon Parade to usher in the Year of Ox.

Babies born in this year will be dependable, honest and reliable but among their bad points are poor public relations skills.

If that means keeping Chinatown as it is, then that sounds okay to me. And just for the record, I was born in the Year of the Rabbit – meaning that I have excellent taste!

Little Yang Sing, 17 George Street, Manchester M1 4HE (0871 2071631, littleyangsing.co.uk)

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