World-renowned Taiwanese dumpling house Din Tai Fung opened its first-ever London restaurant on 5 December 2018 – on Henrietta Street in Covent Garden. In the lead-up to the launch, there were coos, oohs, ahhs, and a general frenzy of excitement among the dumpling-loving community. I was one of them, having fallen in love with their offerings after dining at the Silvercord branch in Hong Kong. This is a prime example of how a humble dumpling can become a cult object. I’m talking, of course, about the iconic xiaolongbao – the handmade soup dumpling that has people queuing around the block. I came to find out whether it was truly worth the hype – and the calories.
We started with the sautéed green beans with minced pork and dried shrimp £5. Perfectly edible, sure, but honestly, a bit of a letdown. I couldn’t help but think back to my visit to Din Tai Fung in Hong Kong, where the beans struck a perfect balance of heat, umami, and natural sweetness. They were the best I’d ever had, so expectations were high. These, by contrast, were insipid and forgettable. It irks me. Bang goes a Lady Godiva.
On the page, the prawn dou miao promised brightness: tender pea shoots kissed with garlic, a few deftly handled prawns for sweetness and snap. What arrived bore little resemblance. Chinese watercress stood in, sullen and stringy, while the prawns had been cooked well past the point of recall. The dish wasn’t bad, just profoundly unmemorable, which in some ways is worse. Seasoning was timid to the point of philosophical objection. It had the ascetic flavour profile of something prescribed rather than prepared – a dish for someone easing out of a long, joyless salt fast.
Then came the crab and pork xiaolongbao £7.80 the main event. Din Tai Fung’s trademark soup dumplings arrived with their signature hand-pleated crowns and delicate skins stretched just shy of translucency. The broth inside was rich, hot, and unapologetically generous. These delivered exactly what they needed to: finesse, theatre, and a minor burn to the roof of the mouth. Come here for these.
The prawn and pork wontons £7.80 arrived draped in a pool of shimmering chilli oil and black vinegar – a classic combo, all promise and gleam. The wrappers were commendably thin, the filling fine. But the sauce tipped too far into murky territory: palate-coating, yes, but with a kind of damp, sour funk that clung unpleasantly. Earthiness is one thing; this veered toward the peat heap. A stinker, frankly.
The minced pork and glutinous rice shao mai £7.80 were a quiet showcase of the kitchen’s technical control. The wrappers were improbably thin – Rizla-thin, near translucent, yet managed to contain their sticky cargo with surgical precision. Not a grain out of place. Were they good? Yes. Remarkably so. But more than that, they were a reminder: someone back there really knows what they’re doing.
I wanted to love the prawn and pork shao maki £8.80 – the open-topped, neck-pleated dumplings were ivory-white and visually pristine. But the filling was oddly tedious, and the prawns, dry to the point of sulking. Something was missing – seasoning, certainly, and perhaps prawns that hadn’t lived a thousand years in cold storage. Bang goes another £8.80.
The chicken buns £9 were palatable enough, but little else. At nearly double digits, you’d expect more generosity – more filling, more bun, more something. Instead, they felt like a tease, a half-hearted promise wrapped in dough.
The sweet ending came courtesy of the red bean buns (£6.90). The filling was dense, nutty, and reassuringly good – a quiet redemption, within reason. Sometimes, simplicity is all the salvation you need.
Verdict
When did I go? March 2019
The damage: Expect to pay £45/50 per head with drinks
The good: Din Tai Fung’s London debut may not have been flawless, but it offered moments worth savouring. The crab and pork xiaolongbao remained the undisputed stars – delicate, bursting with rich broth, and worth every penny. Technical mastery shone through in the glutinous rice shao mai, where precision met elegance in near-translucent wrappers that held their sticky cargo perfectly. Even the red bean buns, humble and unpretentious, provided a sweet, comforting close to the meal. My HK Silvercord review can be seen here in case you missed it.
The bad: But not everything here hit the mark. The sautéed green beans were a bland echo of better memories, and the so-called dou miao was a limp impostor drowning in underseasoned sadness. The prawn and pork shao maki missed their moment entirely, with dry prawns and a forgettable filling that felt like a waste of £8.80. Chicken buns, at nearly ten quid, underdelivered on both substance and satisfaction. And the prawn and pork wontons? Wrapped in a sauce that veered from earthy to outright stinker, they left a sour note on an otherwise measured menu.
Rating: 3/5
Would I go again? Still hasn’t happened yet, will try another branch.
Address: 5 Henrietta St, Covent Garden, London WC2E 8PT
Web: https://www.dintaifung-uk.com
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