EATING OUT

Oodles of noodles are the order of the day for Tom – from a Chinese whizz kid in West London

Well, we sure waited long enough. A year, to be precise, from the moment that empty space in the shiny new building at the fag-end of the Hammersmith Road first announced it was to be occupied by Guirong ‘Master’ Wei, the Holborn queen of noodles with her home-made beef biang biang, her hand-pulled Qishan pork, her Xi’an liangpi in sesame sauce. I don’t think I’ve been this excited about a local restaurant opening since, well, Shikumen almost a decade back. But I began to wonder if those doors would ever actually open, or if this was merely culinary titillation of the very cruellest kind.

And then suddenly, without fuss or fanfare, the ‘coming soon’ vinyl is peeled off the windows, the burners lit and the place filled. We’re there within hours, sitting in a small, brightly lit room, watching Master Wei herself transforming sullen lumps of dough into some of London’s finest noodles. Xi’an is the capital of China’s northwestern Shaanxi province, and the start of the Silk Road, meaning it’s always been happy to slurp up all manner of culinary influences, be they Persian, Mongolian (a neighbour to the north), Sichuan (to the southwest), or Hui Muslim.

Wheat rather than rice rules here, lamb is a staple and many

Dress down – this is oil-spattered, exuberantly messy food

dishes have a soft cumin burr. Master Wei really knows her dough. In wontons, stuffed with pork and dried shrimp, bobbing in a mellow, almost medicinal chicken broth, the wrapper as delicate as a whim. Or the pork and seaweed potsticker dumplings, the dough rolled

tissue-paper thin, the base fried to a crisp crust.

Not forgetting those noodles: wide, flat, splendidly slippery biang biang (named after the sound the dough makes when whacked against a work surface), both silken and substantial, tangled around great wobbling chunks of slow-cooked beef. Qishan noodles are thinner, firmer too, bathed in a sharp, gently spicy broth. Wood ear mushrooms add gelatinous bite. And talking of gelatinous, don’t miss the cold

Xi’an spicy sliced beef, with its glorious textural crunch, doused in sesame oil and chillies. Every dish is a delight, with service to match. But one final word of advice. Dress down. This is oil-splattered, exuberantly messy food, real ten-paper-napkins stuff. My T-shirt, by the end, resembles one of Pollock’s lesser-known works. I wear my stains with pride.

About £25 per head. Master Wei, 245 Hammersmith Road, London W6; master-wei.com

‘Every dish is a delight,’ says Tom of Master Wei, ‘with service to match’