Mr Bao

I love bao buns. Love. Them. Perhaps a little too passionate about them. If I was writing my own rendition of “my favourite things” from the Sound of Music, bao would make a feature.

My first was in 2018. I working next to Blackfriars station, I was young, energetic and full of youthful enthusiasm where one day I took a trip to a nearby lunch spot that would change everything. Two pillows cradling the warm precious filling, each with their distinctive flavours and textures; it’s not a dish that is alway executed well.

I’ve had my fair share of bad bao’s; chewy or gluey or dry bread, disappointing or just odd flavoured filling that just makes a person feel sad. I’ve also had excellent bao.

Mr Bao is a sweet spot between the two. The a bit too small, bit too wild equivalent of Goldilocks' infamous porridge triple helping.

The staff were wonderful; attentive, provided useful guidance and not at all intrusive. The bao was good just not great. The chicken bao was the closest to a classic bao filling, while the breakfast one was just not my cup of tea. One thing I will always notice is if I’m left with a “I’m not full” feeling after leaving an establishment. For the price paid and the trek made south of the river, I won’t be clawing back any time soon. I’m not angry, just disappointed.