Dumpling o'clock

I am beginning to realise that my obsession with dumplings is bordering on serious addiction. After chowing them down on Saturday night at Fitzroy and again on Sunday in Hawthorn (when I decided they were my new favourite hangover food), Thursday night came around and for the third time in less than a week, I found myself scoffing dumplings - yet again. Not that I am complaining.

Thursday night's adventures began in Chinatown, down Tattersall's Lane where a swarm of uni student types were rugged up and lined up - halfway down the narrow alleyway. To see this sort of queue on a random week night had to be a good sign - but we were starving and not sure whether we could handle waiting in line for who knows how long. Fortunately we made the right decision and shuffled along down the graffitied lane with the other hungry locals to join the end of the line. Waiting in the cold outside the neighbouring restaurants proved to be an entertaining experience in itself, with the interestingly named 'Gaylord' Indian restaurant drawing extra special attention from passersby. It made me giggle, but then again, I have a tendency to be easily amused. Anyway, now I have gone off on a tangent and entertained my lame self, I will have to make a point of eating at this Gaylord place sometime and discover whether I will have a gay old time and a religious experience with food, or if it's just a clever name.

Suddenly we are near the front of the line (only waited five minutes after all!) and being bellowed at from inside ("Two? Two? Two people!"). We squeeze through the crowd of salivating punters to be barely greeted by a flustered waiter and are ushered to a pair of seats along the wall. We are joining the end of a long eight-seat table, allowing us to soak up the chaos with randoms. I quite like the communal feel there is to this place: not only with the long shared tables, but the the self-serve corner with green tea and coloured plastic cups that look like they've been taken straight from someone's Mum's kitsch picnic set. I am certain I'm not the only person who was reminded of memories of school camp! Perhaps this is why so many just-out-of-school freshmen uni students seem to frequent Shanghai Dumpling, as some sort of weird sentimental experience? Hmmm. Probably not. More likely that they frequent it because of the ridiculous prices. And yes, I'm talking good-ridiculous. Most menu items were below $7, so my partner-in-crime for the evening and I shared three huge plates and two beers and our bill totalled about $30.

Egg fried rice, prawn and spinach wontons and steamed pork buns made the final cut. Plus two Tiger beers to complement our green tea in plastic cups of course. Fried rice came out first and was satisfying but not the best I have had - could possibly have been just the fact that I am not huge big fried rice fan. I'm a dumplings girl. Nevertheless, I drowned it in soy sauce and devoured it. Next on the table was an extremely generous serve of the prawn and spinach wontons - tender, juicy, fall-apart in your chopsticks-good. Couldn't get enough of those slippery little suckers. This dumpling palace sure knew to save the best for last. The pork buns came out perfectly steaming, sticky and oozing delicate flavours. It was sex on a chopstick.

To enhance the experience was a not-so-traditional soundtrack (think: Whitney Houston's 'Saving All My Love For You'), which was strangely fitting, and extremely attentive service. Whilst savouring our juicy conversation and the last few bites of our meals, our waitress came and asked if we were finished. Three times in the space of ten minutes. I ended up guarding my plate with both arms. When we actually had finished, we were virtually pounced on, plates removed and our barely-touched plastic picnic cups of green tea snatched away. Usually this sort of absurdity would seriously make me get all up in someone's grill, but I just laughed, because somehow, Shanghai Dumpling gets away with it. Plus I'm pretty sure I was in shock. As soon as our tea and plates had disappeared, the Manager hurried over, asking, "You finish?", which we took as more of a statement not a question - our cue to skull our beers and free up two seats for the next two starving dumpling-addicts.

Don't be deterred by the staff trying to hurry you in and out, it honestly just adds to the experience. I remember the grouchy, snappy old Japanese woman who worked at one of my favourite sushi spots in Brisbane, who actually ended up being my highlight of the whole experience. I used to make a game out of trying to make her crack a smile. Don't get me wrong - good service to me is just as important as the food itself, but sometimes, just sometimes, certain quirky little establishments get away with some very interesting definitions of 'good'. I prefer to giggle at the certain eccentricities which I think simply make the whole night more enjoyable.

Don't be deterred either if uni student scenesters aren't your preferred crowd to rub shoulders with, as Shanghai Dumpling is swamped with plenty of hungry locals: from families to business types looking for an after-work pork bun-fix. Among them were plenty of Chinese - which to me is always a good indication that the food is decent. Don't bother cooking tonight, go get in line and discover your dumpling addiction at this Melbourne institution and locals' favourite. I promise - it's an experience!

Shanghai Dumpling Restaurant
25 Tattersalls Lane
Melbourne
VIC
03 9663 8555