In the tenth century, enterprising tea house owners in Guangdong province started offering snacks to the growing numbers of travelling merchants and businessmen passing through their doors.
Originally, they received two morsels, with their tea; one savoury one sweet; before heading off to review a shipment of silk, or book passage up the Pearl River.
They called these little snacks Dim Sum: literally translated as “touch the heart.”
But soon those tenth-century merchants were asking for more than the traditional two pieces. Anyone who’s had good Dim Sum will know why. They can be heaven on a spoon. Tea-house chefs were forced to come up with more innovative and varied recipes and designs to delight both the eyes and the palate, as well as touch the heart.
Pretty soon people were coming just for the snacks, and the tradition of Yum Cha — literally “drink tea” or, in practice, brunch, was born.
A thousand years later, our world would be unrecognisable to those early taste pioneers. But some fixtures, like Dim Sum, have remained, in many cases unchanged, for a millennium.
Dim Sum Library sits just off Long Acre, between theatreland and Chinatown — a bridge between the chefs of Gerrard Street and the theatrical energy of London’s West End. And that is kind of what you get at DSL. Innovative Chinese food that’s also a bit of a show.
Arriving at DSL, you’re immediately confronted by both. The expansive glass windows contain prep stations where young dim sum chefs crimp and fold dumplings with industrial speed. It’s quite mesmerising — especially to anyone who, like me, has ever tried to make them at home and ended up with what is best described as diminutive sci-fi-movie roadkill.
I hoped they’ll taste better than mine too.
Inside, the airy hall, the kind you find in those large 200-seater city-centre cafes in Paris or Berlin, is bustling and full. A vibrant mix of after-work drinkers, business dealers and what I can only assume are influencers fills the room. Half a dozen European languages and a healthy smattering of Cantonese reflect London’s status as an envied international metropolis. This is a library you’re allowed to talk in.
We sit down and peruse the menu, which is half in Chinese, half in English — a marketing choice as much as a linguistic one, I suspect. Though with plenty of Cantonese conversations going on around me, I could be wrong.
Our excellent and knowledgeable server, Hong Xia, recommends something called a Chinese Whisper. I have no idea what it is. An excellent reason to say yes.
What arrives is a fine china teacup with a lid. For a flash, I’m transported across thousands of miles and centuries to those first dim sum houses.
Then I open the lid. Inside: a fist-sized ice cube sitting in what looks like bourbon.
The trick, Hung Xia cheerfully explains, is to use the lid to stop the giant ice cube sliding into your face when you raise the tea cup to your lips. It’s hard to make it look elegant, but as a piece of theatre, it’s fun.
An intriguing blend of coffee, Chinese five-spice and baijiu, which is distilled sorghum, fruity and fiery, up to 60% ABV and, remarkably, the most consumed spirit in the world, makes for a strong and characterful swallow.
Strong booze, massive ice cube, unusual drinking ritual. This was shaping up to be an unique and enjoyable evening.
First up a little plate of wagyu beef puffs. The mouthful is beefier than the delicate pastry promises, which is a surprise, and threw me off. But if you’re expecting that strength of meaty flavour, it would probably be super. To test my hypothesis I order another round, just as beefy and peppery as the first. And this time I’m expecting that, and it’s great.
Just as I’m reflecting on whether wagyu beef truly belongs in Dim Sum, Hong Xia comes over with the next touch of the heart. Unless 60% ABV wasn’t doing that already.
Dan dan xiaolongbao: fragrant chicken in a delicious broth, wrapped in a bright orange, paper-thin wrapper. The trick is to put the whole thing in at once so you don’t lose any of the broth — more hand-lip-mouth acrobatics, adding to the fun. If purists can get past Sichuan flavours in their dim sum, these are pretty hard to fault. Personally, I could eat them all day.
For a main, I went for black truffle crispy skin chicken. The two flavours sit happily together on the tongue, and who doesn’t love crispy chicken skin. I could have had two plates. However, in a menu this innovative, it’s probably not where I’d put my calories next time.
Alongside, the bird Dan dan noodles carried just enough Sichuan pepper to feel authentic without hair-drying your sinuses. Exactly right, though not as exciting or adventurous as what came before.
More dim sum, fewer mains, is my advice.
I left feeling that my life had been genuinely enriched — by some innovative ideas from the kitchen, a new and unusual drinking technique, and a warm introduction to a spirit that, apparently, most of the world already knows and loves.
All in all, a fun and delicious place to drop in after a meeting or before the theatre. One that’s been a thousand years in the making — and was worth the wait.
Dim Sum Library, 136 Long Acre, Covent Garden WC2E 9AD – Dim Sum Library – 020 3953 6820
Monday – Thursday
12:00pm – 10:00pm
Friday
12:00pm – 10:30pm
Saturday
11:30am – 10:30pm
Sunday
11:30am – 9:00pm