Those in the know will recognise the striking red logo of Beijing Opera and the chef-patron Yang Zhao from her successful pop-ups all over Cape Town and Johannesburg. At last a permanent space is available for dim sum enthusiasts, where Yang plans to “showcase the variety of traditional and modern flavours which are unique to her cooking style”.

The food

Dim sum is why we’re here and it’s just as well: dim sum is all there is. For the uninitiated, expect subtly flavoured shredded meat and veg wrapped up in parcels, some steamed silky-translucent and some fluffy, puffy and tender. Go up to the counter and ask for pot-stickers (beef, chicken, veg, and pork and chives) at R25 for four pieces; buns (pork, BBQ pork, veg, chicken, veg and chive) at R15 each; and steamed dumplings (chicken sui mai, veg dim sum, diamond har gau, peanut and pork, prawn and chive, and pepper, chilli and shrimp) at R45 for four pieces.

Once you’ve found your seat, a little saucer of soy-vinegar dipping sauce will arrive, with a couple of serviettes and chopsticks – the pretty, embossed gold-and-red kind. Sadly, no plates are forthcoming to catch the inevitable drips.

When our prawn and chive har gau dumplings appear in their woven basket, we have to be very gentle when peeling them off from their rice paper bed. The shell-reminiscent wrap – if it stays intact – is pleasantly chewy without being gummy (the pitfall of bad dim sum) and the ball of filling inside is wonderfully tasty. The pot-stickers, so named because of their treatment with hot oil instead of steam, have simple fillings, with cabbage adding a comforting depth to the beef version. My favourite, however, has to be the pork bun, with a fragrant, perfectly seasoned filling and tender dough. Don’t bother dipping it; you wouldn’t want to miss the lovely yeasty flavour of the dough and the hint of ginger.

The drinks

They’re only open for lunch, so perhaps there’s no call for wine or beer. Order some surprisingly delicious coconut juice (in a can), green tea, aloe juice or iced tea; otherwise pour yourself a glass of water from the jugs brought to the table.

The service

It’s very casual. The chalkboard menu above the counter faces customers but not staff, resulting in a bit of difficulty when dish names need to be repeated. A few of the options are sold out; some of which are marked with chalk, some of which aren’t. Don’t expect anyone to explain what’s what, and don’t wait until after your meal before checking if they have a card machine. (They don’t.) Yang was out at the time, which might explain these few bumps.

The ambience

While it’s very basic, it doesn’t feel sparse: think of it as comfortable minimalism. The smooth, pale, wooden counter along the window has seating on high stools for four people to watch the street ­– though the quiet office-worker traffic on Rose Street is not nearly as interesting as that on Long and Bree. Two large rectangular tables with seats for about ten people each fill the rest of the neat space; this communal seating could be fun if you’re inclined to be social. Apart from two strings of pegged up photographs – featuring a dog riding a motorbike, a koi fish, a panda, street views and beautiful trees – along the walls, there is no other bric-a-brac or décor clutter in sight. Large red round lampshades on the ceiling round off the Chinese look. The overwhelming feeling is of calm simplicity.

The verdict

It’s a great option for a no-fuss, affordable mid-week lunch: the dishes are fresh and arrive in quick succession, allowing you to pop in and out in under an hour without feeling rushed.

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