Restaurant: Tai Ka Lok
Location : China Town
By Boeing: 11508 miles
By Boris Bike: 2.2 miles
China is a conundrum: like a sudoku puzzle some unlock its secrets and derive great pleasure in the process, while others look on bemused and befuddled. It is a country that is at once familiar and unfathomable. Familiar as we all have a take-away in our local parade of shops, unfathomable as even though it is just round the corner it seems a world away.
It is fitting then that China Town is one of London's most intriguing districts. Tourists arrive on strange oriental tricycle contraptions driven by excitable jugglers who, struggling to fill a beret full of coins in Covent Garden, wreak peddling bedlam on the bustling streets. A huge brick Pagoda stands sentry at the head of Gerrard Street, it's central thoroughfare. But like Brick Lane's Bangla Town its street signs are bilingual. It may well fall under our jurisdiction, but this is Chinese soil.
Boasting 80 restaurants i wasn't quite sure which to chose, choice being a luxury i haven't enjoyed that often on the Fork and Flag odyssey. But having reached ‘Crispy Duck’, and moved on to ‘Four Seasons’, and walked further to the amusing titled ‘Dumpling Legend’ I decided i wanted the untranslated experience. Remarkably that left only one choice, Tai Ka Lok. And seeing that it filled my other criterion, having glazed fauna roasting in the window, i walked in.
My choice was smaller, tattier and less enticing that its Anglicised rivals and therein, i hoped , would lay its authentic charm. I was pleased to see some Chinese families busy in urgent chatter, slurping soup, bent over the bowl, in a manner no Englishman would. The other restaurants I had passed had installed high-backed chairs and small water features. Diners had no option but to pay a ‘fountain tax’ for the privilege. But Tai Ka Lok kept the prices down and diners had to make do with red lanterns and a picture of cascading water on a plastic poster, struggling for freedom against the adhesive oppression of blue tac.
The menu was reassuringly incomprehensible. No chef in the country can produce the range of dishes this man can, spread in tiny print across seven pages. I ordered some Jasmine Tea to aid my ruminations. Ever intrepid I ordered shark fin soup, but was told they didn’t serve it but included it on the menu in case Gordon Ramsay visited. Not even a sozzled Spike Milligan could have dreamed up a more perplexing response. But it was said with such earnestness that i didn’t question it. Instead i ordered Won Ton soup and some steamed pork Dim Sum to start, which seemed to cover most appetiser bases.
China Town is an intriguing, often comical, mix of local Chinese, Londoners and tourists. The latter group largely comprises of clinically obese Americans wearing high waisted shorts, obscenely titled ‘fanny-packs’ and over-sized baseball caps. One such specimen was on the adjoining table. He seemed determined to prove that the waiter did not enjoy a monopoly on bizarre behaviour. His lack of adventure coupled with a mind-blowing ignorance of cuisine or culture was excruciating to bear witness to. “ Are your noodles like pasta? You know like the Italians have; pasta?” he asked, before clarifying “You see I just want pasta with vegetables on it. Can you do that? Can your chef just do that for me?” The menu had almost everything you could imagine but, unsurprisingly, it didn’t have pasta.
Given the sheer scale of China it is unsurprising that there are a multitude of different regional cooking styles, each with their own distinct flavours and traditions. Us British are most familiar with Szechwan and Cantonese, but there are many, many more ranging from mild slow-cooked stews to fiery hot curries.
As with Indian food the British have cultivated their own variants of Chinese cuisine and rarely venture beyond them to subtler, healthier flavours. Our favourite is the toxic, iridescent gloop that is sweet and sour sauce. With deep fried pork balls thrown in it almost competes for calorific value with a meat feast pizza or a Tikka Massala. Scoffed in front of the latest rom-com from Blockbusters and you have the template for a perfect Friday night-in. But Chinese food defies simple classification. While at one end of the scale it is the staple sustenance of the sofa slobs, at the other it can be the most fragrant, flavoursome delicacy a diner will ever sample.
Bamboozled by choice i decided to follow the promptings of my nose and ordered the roast pork, that was lovingly turning on its window mounted spit. I ordered a side of Chow Mein for it to rest on. These ‘ever-ready’ noodles have also been anglicised. It is a well established truism that students need only two items to survive: a Che Guevara T-shirt and a self-replenishing cupboard of Pot Noodles. But i’m pleased to say that my chow mein was a little more refined.
I then tried to order Sorghum wine, a traditional Chinese tipple. The waiter begged me not to and when i didn't heed his protestations he called over the manager. He was equally as adamant but i defied them. It was the most foul smelling liquid i have ever had the misfortune to be in sniffing proximity of. But authenticity was all, and down she went.
Rather than stay for a scoop of ice-cream i decided to venture along the street for something sweet. I found a Chinese mini-mart that was a shrine to that Chinese cultural phenomenon, Hello Kitty. You can buy Hello Kitty chocolate, milkshakes, probably even branded corned beef if you wished. It is a national obsession. I chose the Poki, small biscuit wands half coated in strawberry candy. Delicious.
As well as restaurants and Hello Kitty window dressing China Town is full of herbalists. With operations on the NHS taking close to a decade to book in we are increasingly looking to the ancient remedies of the East to cure our ailments. A heady tea made from stewed leaves and twigs can cure almost any condition, or at least ameliorate it. And flick a few needles in for good measure and we'll all be fit as a fiddle. But then I remembered the Sudoku puzzle. We want to know the secrets of the East, but we don't always have the appetite to discover them. Even though we are a nation that loves to make tea, when it comes to ourselves, most of us will continue to swallow our prescription pills.
