I recall a conversation a decade ago with Simon Hopkinson, the man who’s equally gifted as both a chef and a food writer. He was lamenting the state of cookery writing. ‘It has become too predictable’, he decried, ‘too dominated by the seasons and the weather. If it’s January, it has to be rhubarb, if it’s October it has to be game.’
The same applies, albeit to a lesser extent, to reporting on restaurants. The first rays of spring sunshine induce headlines such as ‘dining al fresco’; November brings a list of party venues (even earlier this year); while January brings the welcome news that Chinese New Year is almost upon us.
This year Chinese New Year falls on Wednesday 29 January and it is the year of the snake, an animal which rules out culinary associations in most countries but should not, according to a recent study at Macquarie University in Australia.
I will happily eat, and have eaten, Chinese food anywhere but JR is somewhat more choosy. Her presence ruled out quite a few of London’s less salubrious Chinese restaurants and so did our joint interest in drinking good wine. In the end, there was only one restaurant that fit our criteria: it had to be Hunan on Pimlico Road.
I first wrote about Hunan in 2011, in Welcoming the year of the rabbit, an article accompanied by a photo of a young, smartly dressed Michael Peng and his father, the chef and creator of the restaurant and its singular approach. A great deal has changed in the intervening years but not the approach. It has a ‘no menu policy’ with guests asked to advise their dislikes and aversions before being served up to 18 (small) courses, some dishes served concurrently. Thoughtfully, a copy of the rough line-up is left on every table. Plus there are prices listed for extras such as Cornish lobster, spider crab and whole roast duck. What must have been a highly unusual approach back then is now very much in vogue.
In this article I also explained Michael Peng’s enthusiasm for wine, which has, if anything, grown even stronger. After booking, I went on to the internet to look at what was on offer and was struck by their range of half bottles, a rarity today. Imagine my surprise when, just after we had sat down, we were presented with two scruffy sheafs of paper held together by a bulldog clip on each of which was listed a jumble of handwritten wines. Peng was most apologetic and explained his wine stocks had been run down over Christmas and he was currently finalising his new, printed list for Chinese New Year.
But appearances cannot deter a determined wine enthusiast and JR had already spotted two potential bottles – a Fletcher Barbaresco 2021 and Klaus Riesling Smaragd 2020 from Prager in Austria’s Wachau – when Peng popped up again. ‘I know you like Riesling and yesterday I had a delivery from a private collector of about 30 bottles which I haven’t sorted yet but if you are interested …’ (is the Pope Catholic, I wondered).
In a scene slightly reminiscent of the Three Kings bearing gifts, Peng reappeared with his arms full of bottles of Riesling backed up a waiter carrying yet more. He ran through the lot before inadvertently striking gold. This was with a bottle of Alsace 2023 Riesling from the young Japanese winemaker Jintaro Yura, a producer whose 2022 had impressed JR at last April’s Noble Rot tasting and was to prove not only delicious but also highly adaptable to the many flavours that were to come our way.
Physical changes to this restaurant in the past year include a repositioning of the bar, although in such a narrow building, the entrance is invariably cramped; a refreshment of the white décor; and a far more relaxed approach to the service.
Peng himself seems far more relaxed. His father has now retired from the kitchen and when I asked Peng who was in charge, his response was an immediate, ‘I suppose I am’. This new working arrangement seems to bring the best out of him. And to the rest of his team ranging from an extremely smart young Ukrainian waiter to a far more laid-back manager who has strong ideas on the menu and, like me, seems to appreciate the thumbs-up sign, which conveys immediate satisfaction without the need to say anything or for any further interaction.
On the table were dishes of peanuts, high-quality soy sauce and spicy diced cucumber which conveniently set the bar when the waiter asked us for our spicing preference. ‘No spicier than the (very chilli) cucumber’, we were able to say and the show got under way, with a steamed bamboo cup of clear soup with a slice of tofu floating in it that was for me at least, the perfect start. (Our waiter pointed out that the soup’s recipe was 43 years old!)
This was followed in quick succession by a plethora of dishes in a sequence that seemed more user-friendly than in many other restaurants serving a set menu of usually bigger dishes. As I pointed out in my chapter in The Art of The Restaurateur on Juli Soler, the late restaurateur who created El Bulli, it is the management of so many dishes that requires special attention. At Hunan, 18–20 courses to 50 customers a night means close to 1,000 dishes – the equivalent of a 300-seater restaurant offering a three-course menu – and all this with a basement kitchen linked by a dumbwaiter. There was also, between courses 10 and 11 (I think), a much-needed pause of 10 minutes.
Highlights of the meal included an egg dumpling with sticky rice, Chinese sausage and dried shrimp; a dish of crisp pig’s tongue wrapped around thin slices of pig’s ear on crunchy seaweed (a dish that appeared only after Peng asked us whether offal was possible); deep-fried French beans (above) with quite a large handful of diced chilli; and a couple of prawns wrapped around spinach leaves (below) with an appetisingly vinegary sauce. The saucing was also excellent on the Herdwick lamb and the small pieces of wagyu beef with a satay sauce.
We also lost our hearts to a wok-fried dumpling filled with diced vegetables that took only seconds to enjoy but must have taken far longer to prepare. And also to cubes of candied black cod in a lip-smacking black vinegar reduction. We ended the meal on another high, a Cornish lobster served with noodles and plenty of spicy red chilli, the majority of which the restaurant kindly boxed up for us and we enjoyed for supper the following night.
The bill was unusual too. Our menu was priced at £119.80 each with the bottle of wine at £79, a total of £318.60 and service was not included. When I quizzed Richard, the affable general manager, about whether the staff were happy about this, his response was emphatic. ‘Yes, we do well out of it.’
Which just goes to show that if you as the restaurateur offer distinctive food, a great range of wines, and the most friendly service, then everybody benefits.
Hunan 51 Pimlico Road, London SW1W 8NE; tel: +44 (0)20 7730 5712
Photo at top and those of soup, beans and prawns courtesy of the restaurant; all others by author.
See all of Nick's reviews of Chinese restaurants. To stay abreast of his reviews, sign up for our weekly newsletter.
