Wong Kei Review

Wong Kei, 41-43 Wardour Street, London

With its tatty lanterns, grubby floors, ancient Formica tables and miserable, miserable waiters, Wong Kei is like a restaurant in the Bognor Regis of Beijing.
Even so, this is the best restaurant in London for dining alone.

What other restaurant has a whole area set aside for this strange, lonely beast? As an ex-waiter myself, I can guarantee you, everyone suspects the solo diner. They’ll be scuttling about back-of-house gossiping about the loner on table twelve. No food critic worth their salt dines alone, so who is this myopic mystery? Just a billy-no-mates? A travelling businessman? A billy-no-mates-travelling-businessman? Who cares? They’ve come to a restaurant; for dinner; on their own.

“Yes, hello sir, how’s the bisque? Oh excellent. Another glass of wine? Great. I’ll be right back.”

Quick skip back of house.

“Yeah Salif, guess what? The geezer on twelve’s having another glass of wine. I know. On his own! Hah ah ah ahha hha.”

Unfortunately this is how it goes for the lone diner. And with that in mind, I can’t even go to the cinema alone. All those friends and couples looking at me, wondering why I’m on my own. A social pariah.

But not at Wong Kei. Here the lone diner is welcomed. The lone diner is a friend, a regular, a person to be respected. A person to be given their own area. And not out the back next to the loos. The best area. Right in the main drag where you come in. In this Temple of Chinese Gastronomy, the lone diner eats at the altar.

Even the billy-no-mates-travelling-businessman.

Until recently I had lunch here three times a week, on my own, and did so for three years. 450 visits. And never a new waiter.

I walk in and sit down. They resist the temptation to shout at me, as they do to all the other customers. “How many? Three? Upstairs!” “But we wanted…” “Downstairs closed. Upstairs!” I love these guys.

The waiter comes over and slams a (free) pot of jasmine tea on the table in front of me. “Wha’ you want?” He knows what I want, I always have the same. I blink at him. He wants to defenestrate me. Ever heard that you can’t out stare a pig? Pigs and Wong Kei waiters. Don’t even try.

It’s busy, he has other things to do. More customers to bully. “Usual I suppose!” I nod. Don’t speak. “Thanks” when they bring the food. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.

He casually slinks away. Throwing disapproving looks at my fellow diners. This is what made Wong Kei famous. Rude waiters. Unbelievably rude waiters. My trendy friends hate it here. They say it’s a dump. They hate the waiters being rude to them. But why should the waiters be nice? You’re not going to leave them a tip are you? And do you know what? They don’t want one. Then they’d have to suck-up like there was an ‘Optional’ 12.5% tacked on.

They enjoy themselves because it’s not in their job description to be obsequious. Exactly why some people hate it.
They take the order, bring out the food, reluctantly get more tea, then they walk away and leave you to it.

They don’t top up your drink.

They don’t ask if everything’s alright.

They don’t even care if you’re alive or dead.

And do you know what? I love it.