Wong Kei is one of London’s great time capsules. A reminder that cash can still be king and that great service does not always need a smile. An always-welcome Cantonese restaurant for the solo diner wanting to slurp on wonton soup, Wong Kei is Chinatown’s great sanctuary. This is a place for everyone. The miserable and the happy. The alone and the raucous. The labourer and the accountant. Wong Kei’s front sharing tables—a mixture of bowed heads and balanced phones—is London’s purest form of canteen eating. Everything here is in and around £10. It’s rare you’ll spend longer than an hour, but there is space for larger groups at the back or upstairs. Of Wong Kei’s many dishes (circa 150, plus off-menu orders) there are two classic standouts we always revisit. A bowl of plump wontons in wishy-washy broth with noodles is a regular winter pick-me-up. Not least with a spoonful of homemade chilli oil. While an irresistible pile of cold roast meats on hot rice, slathered in an umami-ish BBQ sauce, is made to be shovelled. Lots has been made of Wong Kei’s historically blunt service. For us, it’s something to be admired. Word salads aren’t welcome here, and anyone who sits down expecting The Ritz is plainly an idiot. Within seconds you’ll have a complimentary pot of Chinese tea and minutes after ordering, an enormous bowl or plate of food. This is Wong Kei's charm. It doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it has always been: a restaurant that people rely upon. (N.B. If you’re looking for a heroically thorough rundown of Wong Kei’s menu, then let us prod you in the direction of this Wong Kei blog. Hats off to whoever authored the project. We'd love to speak to them and, moreover, eat with them.)