Cantonese comfort food, generous portions and a little neon-lit glamour. A rainy evening in Canary Wharf leads to a warm welcome at Mama Li’s modern Chinese diner.
Giant raindrops thundered into the pavement as I dashed through the mighty canyons of glass and concrete that are modern Canary Wharf. The bright lights of success danced and shimmered in puddles, given countless craters, ridges and calderas by the sodden onslaught.
Rounding a corner, I spotted a glowing light in the distance. My haven. With one last effort I lunged towards the shelter, warmth and all the gustatory promise of a Cantonese roast-meat café.
Pale green Formica tables and dark polished hardwood furnishings, dominated by a gigantic red neon sign in Chinese characters. A classy modern joint, unashamed of its roots as a lunchtime eatery but reinvented as a taste-chaser’s destination.
It’s basically a hip little diner selling great-tasting and exceptionally good-value Chinese home cooking. But they’ve done the place up like a modern noir diner, a 2026 reincarnation of a Raymond Chandler novel or a pulp-fiction novella. In fact, it’s like walking onto a Tarantino set, with fewer weapons and less swearing.
The real story is just as cinematic.
Founder Catherine Hua worked in finance in the City. Her mother—who has extensive Chinese restaurant experience—used to make her lunches of Cantonese roast meats, rice and vegetables. Naturally, colleagues started asking if they could have some too, and the seeds of an idea were sown.
During the pandemic, mother and daughter began selling meals from a small Shoreditch kitchen, and now have three locations across east London.
The one I’m in tonight is the latest in what looks like it could grow to considerably more.
Waiting to be seated, you can see right into the kitchen. I crane my neck for a glimpse of Mama Li herself tossing a wok in each hand, or peering in judgement over some terrified young apprentice’s barbecue sauce, but sadly she’s not in tonight.
In her place is the impossibly charming Carrie, who ushers me to my diner-style booth.
She recommends I try the sesame prawn toast. She could have said hot-curried gravel and I’d have ordered some, she’s so welcoming and cheerful.
It doesn’t disappoint. Made with real mashed shrimp, and you all know what sesame seeds are. The difference here is it’s delivered on a chunky slice of baguette. Two, in fact. A nod back to the packed-lunch days, perhaps? I loved them as I was, as ever, starving, but as an opener it’s a lot of bread for some people. You could always not finish it, I s’pose, but I’m always suspicious of people who don’t finish tasty food.
Another thing the toast does, combined with the décor, is set out Mama Li’s stall. You’re now certain you’re headed for decent portions of unfussy, tasty home cooking.
The four central choices are roast duck, char siu barbecue pork, crispy pork and soy chicken. You can have one, two or three meats with rice and greens. A useful arrangement if, like me, you regard choosing just one thing as a missed opportunity.
And all those combos come in under 20 quid. Which is super value for what arrives on the plate.
There’s more to choose from out at Canary Wharf: wonton noodle soup, roast-meat noodle soup, or silky eggs with char siu over rice. That last one sounds like a very good argument for letting someone else make your lunch. There are grilled pork dumplings and wontons in chilli oil too. Plenty of reasons to come back, and I haven’t ordered my main yet.
They’re also doing a beef ho fun special out at Canary Wharf. Carrie says I should go for that. So of course…
It’s also a bit of a test; I cook the dish at home, and it’s easy to mash the broad rice noodles up when you’re stir-frying over high heat, which the dish requires.
Of course they know what they’re doing miles better than me, and I get a generous portion of exactly what I wish mine were like.
The trouble with this dish—and it’s not Mama Li’s fault; it’s everywhere—is that everything is brown. Brown noodles and, once tossed, brown beansprouts and brown beef.
So, as tasty and certainly filling as my plate is, I am a little envious of the wonderful red sauces and bright white rice dishes floating past my table towards other diners. When I come back, I’m going for the classic Mama Li fare.
To wrap things up and send me back into the rain, I had a custard-filled bun which was utterly delicious and certainly not for those trying to manage their glucose spikes. And a warming cup of something I’d never had before.
A cup of tea.
Well, I’ve not had one like this. Hong Kong milk tea: sweet and richly milky. I’m assured it’s a traditional beverage. It looks like a latte and tastes like very sweet tea. It was a sugar-spoon too sweet for me and tasted too much of tea. Though I don’t drink Britain’s favourite non-alcoholic beverage at any time of the day or night, so I may not be its ideal audience. I expect you’ll love it.
What the tea does, though, is bring the whole experience back to the café-diner vibe I felt walking in. I basically had a slice of bread to start and a cup of tea to end. The ghosts of stevedores and lightermen that wander Docklands at night would surely approve.
Mama Li isn’t somewhere you need to save for a big occasion. It’s a good old East End café selling toast, meat and rice and a cup of tea—modern Chinese style. And it does all that just right.
Next time I’m out east, I’ll certainly be back. With a raincoat.
Mama Li, 3 West Lane, Canary Wharf Estate, E22 3AA – Mama Li
Mon – Fri 12-3pm, 5-9:00pm, Sat – Sun 12-9:00pm
Other locations: 22 Great Tower St, London EC3R 5AQ and 49 London Wall, London EC2M 5TE
