The crowd is a beautiful mess. You’ve got families with toddlers practicing their chopstick technique (mostly by poking their fathers), couples on their third date pretending they’re foodies, and solo diners like me, reading a book while inhaling four types of dumplings. It’s the kind of place where you’ll overhear someone say, “This is better than my grandmother’s,” and the grandmother at the next table just nods approvingly. It’s a community verdict, passed dish by dish.
The London Foodie: Seeking the Best Dim Sum in London - Royal China
The service is famously brisk—some might say “efficient,” others might say “slightly intimidating.” But that’s part of the charm. The waitstaff will put a steamer basket in front of you, make eye contact, and say “Be quick” without a hint of irony. You obey. And you’re glad you did, because that cold second dumpling is a crime against humanity. It’s like a drill sergeant who feeds you cake, and somehow, you love them for it.
The Bottom Line: Go, But Bring a Strategy
If you go on a Saturday, prepare for a queue that snakes out the door like a snake that’s very hungry. My advice? Go at 11:30 AM, before the lunch rush turns the place into a feeding frenzy. Bring a friend who’s good at grabbing the waiter’s attention, or bring a friend who’s slow—so you can grab their food. Survival tip: always order two baskets of the har gow. Always. There’s no such thing as too much, only regret.
So next time you’re in Baker Street, dodging tourists in deerstalker hats, pop into Royal China Baker Street. It’s not just a meal; it’s an event. A loud, steamy, dumpling-filled event where you’ll leave with a full belly, a smile on your face, and probably a bit of soy sauce on your shirt. Worth every stain.
