The best restaurant in Chinatown is the one that makes you feel like you cheated the system. You paid £15, ate like an emperor, and left with a smile and a slight sheen of oil on your face.
Don’t overthink it. Just walk in, point at a stranger’s plate, and say, “I’ll have what they’re having.” You won’t regret it—unless it’s the tripe.
And if you see me there, elbow-deep in a bowl of noodles, just nod. We’re all in this delicious, messy club together.
