The surname Poon has long associations with the world of hospitality and Chinese cooking.
From a restaurant in Macau where Bill Poon began as a youth to a Michelin-starred restaurant in London’s Covent Garden in 1980 to two more, one of them in Geneva. But in 2004 Bill Poon hung up his knife and Cecilia retired her welcoming smile. Both are now in their 80s and live happily in Surrey Quays in south-east London.
The mantle fell on the shoulders of their daughter Amy who, since returning to London in 2018, has dabbled, occasionally with both feet, in London restaurants. A three-month pop-up in Carousel; a period distributing wontons and delicious, well-packaged sauces, particularly a spicy chilli vinegar, that are still on sale; and several fruitless bouts of negotiations with potential landlords.
Then on 5 November this year Poon’s London reopened its doors in a permanent location in Somerset House, next door to Spring, the late Skye Gyngell’s restaurant. My first question to Amy when I arranged to meet her after my first lunch there was, ‘is this an itch that had to be scratched?’ She smiled, thought for a few seconds, and then replied, ‘I think of it more as kismet, my fate.’
That fate involves long hours. When I asked her when I could come and talk to her, her reply was, ‘Any time, we live here.’ And when I was lunching on my own – a bowl of warming congee laced with abundant amounts of chicken – and talking to her husband, Michael – she leaned across the table, peered into the small bowl that contained four slices of pickled vegetables, looked up at both of us, and smiled before adding, ‘just checking’.
This was my lunch sitting at the counter which fills the first of two halves of the restaurant. There are tables opposite and more tables in the second half, and an open kitchen with bar seats directly opposite. The whole of the interior is covered in murals, painted by artist Leonora Service, to create the atmosphere of a verdant China, and green is the dominant colour of the furniture. On the mantlepiece at the far end of the room is a photograph of the elderly Bill Poon, as though watching everybody and everything.
Amy Poon’s mission is of course impossible. She aims to create an atmosphere of warmth that combines home cooking with style, a laudable ambition but one that will always remain her dream. She has managed, however, to create a lovely space out of an awkward environment. The restaurant occupies a narrow space along the east side of an 18th-century building, originally for government offices and gradually transformed into an arts centre with restaurants attached. The restaurant is most easily accessible from the east, off the continuation of Waterloo Bridge.
The site brings certain challenges. A corridor divides the restaurant from the pot wash and its private dining room, pictured above. The restaurant does not have its own lavatories; they are along the corridor, and communal. No open fire is allowed in the entire building, which means that wok cooking has to be carried out on the highest induction hob. And of course the signage is a constant issue between a landlord who believes the status quo cannot be improved upon, and a tenant who believes it easily could be.
When I lunched there at a table for four with a vegetable supplier, a mushroom supplier and chef Martin Lam, we explored the menu more fully. We began with a small portion of a roast duck salad, boiled peanuts, a bowl of slices of their celebrated wind-dried sausage and a rendition of prawn toast interpreted by Bill Poon that uses pork back fat as the coating. We then graduated to a steamed sea bass with spring onions and ginger; zha jiang aubergines with added fermented soya-bean sauce; braised glass noodles with braised tofu and mushrooms; a bowl of seasonal greens; and clay-pot-cooked jasmine rice. With a delicious bottle of German Riesling, my bill came to £230.40.
What was missing from all our dishes – and only time will solve – is the underlying richness and extra layers that cooking in well-worn pans and woks can bring. As any restaurant gets busier, its kitchen equipment gets bashed, beaten up and well worn, as well as covered in thin layers of butter, cooking oil and, in the particular case of Poon’s, extra layers of spice, vinegars and the distinctive mixture of sweet and spice that is the hallmark of Chinese-restaurant cooking. A great deal changes in the first six months of any restaurant but nothing more so than these extra flavours imbued almost inadvertently in the kitchen. All of which will only make Poon’s cooking even more attractive.
What cannot improve, but will evolve, is the considerate approach that Amy’s husband, Michael Mackenzie, has taken in writing the wine list – or rather, as his wife described it, ‘writing his PhD’. Under the heading ‘What We Love in Wine’ he sets out his guiding principles of cool-climate wines made by family and female producers with heritage and passion. He also points out that no wine on the list costs more than £100. He was previously in the wine trade, distributing champagne in Asia (it was champagne that brought them together). Here he lists three sherries; explains why he has chosen so many wines produced by Jade Gross, a Hong Kong-born chef-turned-winemaker working in Rioja Alta, and took great pleasure in serving us our bottle of Maximin Grünhäuser, Herrenberg Riesling Kabinett 2023 (£68) whose 7.5% alcohol was the perfect wine for lunch.
We ended our meal with a dessert described as ‘three bites of Helen Goh’, the Malaysia-born psychologist who, since moving to London, has flourished as a pastry chef alongside Yotam Ottolenghi. In a conversation with Goh, Poon was bemoaning the absence of desserts among traditional Chinese recipes, particularly in comparison with Vietnamese cooking, where the French influence has been so strong. As a beginning Goh proposed the dish that we enjoyed – a slice of a fruit in season (in our case a persimmon), a piece of chocolate and a piece of sponge cake. They were all good but surely with time fresh ideas will emerge.
That to me is what is most exciting about the opening of this restaurant. The owners are not driven by the financial imperative that drives most of those in the business. Amy Poon is on a mission to recreate the atmosphere, the aromas of her father’s cooking, and many others have tried to recreate this home style of cooking in a restaurant. All of them have failed almost by definition.
But I would never bet against anyone with such a sense of determination, responsibility and history as Amy Poon. And as she continues to inspire those who cook in her kitchen, most notably Uzbek chef Shavkat Mamurov and his Hong Kong-born sous chef, Joyeta Ng, this menu will evolve and get even better. She will presumably be helped in no small way by the way in which the restaurant name, Poon’s, will attract visitors from China and around the world.
Poon’s at Somerset House New Wing, Lancaster Place, London WC2R 1LA; tel: +44 (0)20 7759 1888. Closed Sunday and Monday.
Every Sunday, Nick writes about restaurants. To stay abreast of his reviews, sign up for our weekly newsletter.
