I WAS wondering if Mister Li knew something about the credit crunch which we didn’t as we trotted down the steps from the street into his newly-opened Chinese restaurant.
A big sign staring back at us said something to the effect of, “no credit or debit cards accepted”.
I wondered if Mister Li was, perhaps, a financial visionary who calculated that credit and debit cards had now had their day. If so, I wondered, he might find time among the steaming pans in his kitchen to give me some advice about my financial arrangements – a mixture of the sweet and sour, I have to say.
The restaurant manager was called Simon and his apologetic explanation was much simpler: the business was so new (it had only been open a short while) that the tills were still not linked to the credit card companies.
As we turned to leave, my wife and I could see disappointment etched on the faces of the waiting staff, who were lined up like cheerleaders to wave us on to the dining floor.
Simon was even more pleased to see us return from a cash point a few minutes later with a wad of nice new bank notes. We were ushered through the large, airy dining room complete with pillars and small, winking lights set in a dark ceiling like stars.
Just one other table was occupied at this early stage on a Saturday evening. We could tell it was early days for the staff, too. They were ultra-friendly and eager to please, although a little tentative and unsure of themselves.
Luckily, they were well shepherded and marshalled by the larger-than-life Simon, who doubled as a kind of circus ringmaster and master of ceremonies. He was here, there and everywhere.
He also led the negotiations when we hit our first stumbling block: how much duck should we order? A quarter or half? Was it to be aromatic duck or Peking duck? We didn’t want to pig out at the first-course stage, so picked out a modest quarter of aromatic duck.
The large menu was similar, but also very different in many ways from the usual range of Chinese dishes, with old familiar favourites keeping company with some newcomers. So we wandered across some things we, at least, had not seen before, such as jellyfish, slices of eel, and sweet and sour “squirrel” fish.
We discovered that each course was to begin with a slice of performance art from Simon and his team, with our choices arriving by a trolley wheeled from the kitchen.
The duck was carved for us before being served. It was a crispy treat served with thin pancakes, spring onions and duck sauce. Our other starters, steamed wan ton and beef fillet, rolled in rice paper and fresh mint leaves, arrived in similar fashion. Simon theatrically passed the dry rice paper through a bowl of hot water, resting on the trolley, so he could roll it around the beef and mint leaves. It was expertly done. We thought we should applaud, but we did not want to draw attention to ourselves.
The dumpling-like wan ton, filled with king prawn and chicken, with chilli oil, soya sauce and sesame oil had a taste and texture which left me wanting another portion, but I resisted. The stars of the show were the tender and delicious beef fillets which were simply top class.
The restaurant was filling up nicely. So, people did still have some cash after all, we thought. And the new arrivals certainly improved the atmosphere. We were also sampling the atmosphere of a neighbouring Tex-Mex restaurant for free: its enthusiastic clientele was dancing on the floorboards above and it sounded like a high-heel convention was in town.
I had pushed the boat out for my main course and netted a sea bass. In fact, it was steamed sea bass, with ginger and spring onions and a black bean sauce. Not your usual Chinese meal, but certainly something different.
My wife went for something called Sea Spicy Sauce, with assorted meat, szechuan-style aubergine, bamboo shoots, carrots, green pepper, hot crushed yellow bean sauce, chilli and ground dry shrimp.
My sea bass was taking longer than Simon liked, so he topped us up with a free round of drinks, which was nice.
Eventually, we heard a familiar squeaking sound as the trolley was wheeled into action once more and headed towards our corner table. The sea bass, complete with head and tail, was laid out on the plate – and an impressive specimen it was, too.
I had inquired earlier if the staff would remove the bones, which they said was not a problem. Unfortunately, the waiter missed quite a bit so I ended up fishing around the sea bass for the rest, which put me off although I have to say the flesh was plump and delicious. A bowl of noodles accompanied it nicely.
My wife’s main course was an excellent combination of tastes and colours and well worth the wait.
Mister Li’s menu promises, proudly, something different to revitalise “jaded palates”. It certainly delivers on that score.
The bill for food, without counting the drinks, came to just under £50, but the sea bass alone was nearly £14.
It had been a novel encounter, not least the experience of paying in cash instead of a card which was the first time for as long as I could remember. It made me appreciate the food more.
I think this cash business could catch on, you know.
Mister Li, 25 Crown Terrace, Aberdeen. Phone 01224 210592. Credit cards are now accepted.