I was minus one when Chung Ying opened in Birmingham’s China Town, which, back then, was less town and more hamlet. That’s 44 years of legacy. They opened in an era when this country wasn’t known for its adventurous cuisine, a time when dim sum is how a Brummie would describe their half-witted child. They’ve survived Thatcher, riots, financial meltdowns, austerity, and a pandemic that was initially aimed squarely at their community.
A quick look on Google and Chung Ying is listed as a ‘Veteran traditional Cantonese restaurant’ and whilst lazy, it’s kind of true. Chung Ying is a name synonymous with Birmingham’s Chinese community. It’s ingrained in the city, probably the first name you recall when you talk about Chinese food in this city along with Peach Garden and Henry Wong’s (another restaurant so old that they still wear a plaque from a now defunct 1990’s guide). It’s a brand, one that has slowly tweaked from the original so that it still wears its hallmarks as clear as the signage outside.
Some six years after Shababs opened on Ladypool Road, and is now arguably the last bastion of the Balti Triangle. Almost forty years of serving chicken baltis to drunk white people. When others moved their spaces to cater for those who live locally, or shied away from an anglicised terminology, Shababs doubled-down – quite literally – increasing the size of the restaurant. And it’s paid off. Mention balti to anyone and the word that comes next is Shababs. Not even the restaurant burning down will stop that. A mile away in Balsall Heath stands Sheereen Kadah. It’s blue frontage leading to the place locals and taxi drivers queue for nihari and rassmalai at all hours of the day. It hasn’t changed a bit since it opened in 1967.
The 1990’s saw a spate of Italian restaurants open, namely San Carlo and Pasta di Piazza, brands that you only have to utter to know what they are associated with. I’m talking about massive menus, littered with antipasti, salads, and pastas. Entire sections for bruschetta, pizzas, and another for mains. Tiramisu. Always Tiramisu. With wine lists that are rightly odes to the great grapes of their homeland. These restaurants remain mostly unchanged to this day and in the case of San Carlo have led to numerous chains and off-shoots. Heard of Fumo and Cicchetti? That’s the evolution.
Birmingham is a magpie city. We love anything that is shiny and new, even when it isn’t great. And yet despite this, many of the originals live on to this day. Mostly because they have committed to cooking the style of food that they want to cook, but also because they have committed to a brand and not buckled to the premature ejaculation that is food trends. These restaurants are Birmingham. They are a part of our DNA. They have left a thumbprint larger than the thousands that have come after them. And they deserve our custom just as much – if not more – than anyone else.
I am Simon Carlo, a food blogger, journalist, copywriter and bonafide mild child. The above words are mine. Mostly. The gooder ones anyway.
