Fifty years in the making
Everyone already
called him Baba.
For fifty years, if you wanted the best Chinese food in Sydney, you
did not need to book a table. You just needed to follow the
rumour. It always led back to Baba.
He has run kitchens. He has owned kitchens. More than once, he got
a call on a Saturday night from a restaurant that was not even
his. Some kitchen across town was drowning in orders. He would
show up anyway, apron already on. A bad plate of food bothered him
more than losing a night off. That is fifty years of cooking in
other people's kitchens, by other people's rules. And he was
really, really good at it.
Then his favourite son-in-law in the world asked him a simple
question. "Why are you still cooking for everyone else?"
That question sparked a fire in his belly. So we built him his own
dream commercial kitchen.
No dining room to run. No rules but
his own. Just the food he grew up eating at his mother's table.
Pork belly with crackling that actually cracks. Duck glazed until
it shines. A wok so hot it makes a mud crab nervous. Fifty years
of recipes, finally cooked the way Baba always knew they should
be. "Baba" means dad in Chinese. Everyone who has eaten his food
already calls him that.
See the menu →
