Alright, so let me tell you about this whole dim sum situation in Milan. I’m a big dim sum guy, always have been. You know, Sunday dim sum back where I used to live? That was practically a weekly ritual, a sacred thing. So, when I found myself living in Milan, one of the first things on my to-do list, a real mission, was to track down some proper dim sum. The good stuff, the kind that makes you happy.
My first few attempts? Oh boy. A total mess, to be honest. I’d walk into these places, full of hope, you know? And then the food would arrive. Some of it looked passable from a distance, but then you’d take a bite. Wrappers too thick, like biting into cardboard. Or the fillings were just… off. Some kind of weird Italian-fusion dim sum experiment. I mean, I like Italian food, don’t get me wrong, but truffle in my siu mai? Seriously? I just don’t need that. It felt like they either didn’t quite get what dim sum is all about, or they figured we wouldn’t know any better. Super frustrating, let me tell you.
So, I started asking around. “Where’s the real deal?” I’d pester my colleagues, any local I met who seemed like they knew their food. I got a whole bunch of recommendations. Some of them just led to more letdowns. There was this one place, everyone was raving about it. So I went, coughed up a fair bit of cash, and the har gow – you know, the shrimp dumplings – the shrimp was just mushy. Mushy! That’s like, a major crime in the dim sum world. I almost wanted to throw a fit. Okay, maybe not a full-blown fit, but I was definitely grumpy for a while after that.
But I’m not one to give up easily. I’m pretty stubborn when I want something. So, I started venturing out more, especially into Milan’s Chinatown, the area around Via Paolo Sarpi. It’s a lively place, loads of little eateries tucked away. It turned into a bit of a weekend habit for me. I’d just wander around, peek into restaurant windows, maybe try a small dish here and there. It felt like I was on a treasure hunt, but most of the time, I was just finding, well, not treasure. More like slightly odd dumplings.
Then, one Saturday, I kind of stumbled upon this smaller, less flashy spot. It wasn’t trying to be super fancy with its decor or anything. The menu was mostly in Chinese, which I took as a potentially good sign. I decided to order a few of the classics: siu mai, har gow (yes, I was brave enough to try them again), and some cheung fun. My expectations were pretty rock bottom by this point, if I’m being honest.
- The siu mai (pork and shrimp dumplings) came out first. They looked alright. I took a bite. And hey, not bad! Actually, they were pretty good. Nice pork flavor, a bit of shrimp in there.
- Then came the har gow. The wrapper was thin, almost see-through. And the shrimp inside? It was actually snappy! I was genuinely taken aback.
- The cheung fun (those steamed rice noodle rolls) were nice and slippery, and the soy sauce they served with it was just right – not too sweet, not overly salty.
Look, it wasn’t like the absolute best dim sum I’d ever eaten in my entire life, nothing like those legendary places you hear about. But it was solid. It was authentic. It tasted like it was made by someone who actually knew what dim sum was supposed to taste like. I ate so much that day, I practically rolled out of there. Felt like I’d finally cracked some kind of Milanese dim sum code or something.
After that breakthrough, I managed to find a couple of other places that were decent, some a bit better than others. It’s still a bit of a mixed bag, this whole dim sum scene in Milan. It’s not like you can just stroll into any random Chinese restaurant and expect to be blown away by amazing dim sum. You really have to put in the effort, do your research, or just get lucky, I suppose.
It sort of reminds me of when I was trying to get good at a new video game. Everyone’s like, “Oh, it’s easy, just follow the tutorial!” Yeah, right. You start playing, you think you’ve got it, then you hit a wall, or you realize you need a specific item you missed, or a special skill. Milan’s dim sum feels a bit like that. You’ve got your super fancy, often overpriced fusion spots. You’ve got your really basic, sometimes just plain bad, neighborhood joints. And then, if you look hard enough, hidden in between, you find these little gems that are actually doing it right. You just have to keep digging, keep trying stuff, and try not to get too disheartened by the occasional bizarrely flavored dumpling along the way.
I’m still on the hunt, really. Always keeping an eye out for the next good spot. It’s become a bit of a personal quest. Maybe one of these days I’ll even get brave enough to try making my own from scratch, but man, those delicate har gow pleats look seriously intimidating. For now, I’ll stick to my little explorations. It’s a journey, isn’t it?