Wing Sing

Authentic Flavors, Perfect for Friday Nights

Like a character in a Dickens novel, stepping into this quirky little restaurant was a zigzag journey through bustling contradictions. At first glance, it seemed disarmingly charming—a snug hideaway with an air of authenticity that one rarely finds outside the bustling street markets of Beijing. Nestled conveniently a stone’s throw from the local station, it's no wonder that quick foottraffic has transformed it into a regular haunt for many, become almost ritualistic in its Friday night allure. The mere prospect of sampling classic Chinese dishes cooked to perfection drew me in like a vinyl record promising vintage melodies—timeless and reliably delightful.

However, here lies the dichotomy: while some dishes like the ever-craved Siu Yuk belly pork leave much to be desired, stubborn affections hold a beacon for change. Sometimes burnt, occasionally teetering on stale, it teases deliciousness but falters, becoming the restaurant's Achilles’ heel. Yet, there's always a dazzling savior on the menu—a revelation, like the legendary soft shell crab that sings a symphony of savory satisfaction song after scrumptious song. Accommodating your bubbly passions, you can bring your own bottle—a feature as gracious as the nature of continental Europe cafes. Service is an eclectic dance heading either towards friendly efficiency or head-scratching misadventures of mistaken orders, notably haunting those kinetic souls opting for takeaway. If you’re swiftly whisked a batch of crispy prawn instead of chicken balls, consider it all part of the skewed but gold-hearted charm—the price of access to an evening filled with mouthwatering memories or peculiar stories you're wont to share over chili sauce-dappled napkins. — Nigel Gourmet