Opening their doors five months ago, Lei Yue Mun is a new kid on the block. As an unusually central addition to Cambridge’s Chinese food scene, sussing it out at some point was an inevitability for us.

Snugly tucked away at the end of Sidney Sussex passage, it offers the ability to sit and watch walkers along Hobson street through its floor-to-ceiling windows. That is, if the steam from the bustling kitchen hasn’t fogged up the glass. For those more travelled than we were in first and second year, it has taken the place of Abantu, which, we are reliably informed, was a reliably delightful little coffee shop. With its homely, unassuming exterior, we hoped Lei Yue Mun would deliver something similar.

The laminated, one-sheet menu had all the usual (promising) suspects: noodles, soups, dumplings and rice dishes. A restaurant’s noodle soup, we agreed, is perhaps the best measure of its quality, so we took two of these on: one with beef brisket, one with tofu. To supplement our rich mains, a side of cold cucumber salad. This is not to say the choice was entirely volitional. The tofu noodle soup was one of two vegetarian mains on the menu. For Luke, the herbivore of the two of us, this was a slight disappointment.

“For Luke, the herbivore of the two of us, this was a slight disappointment”

Food:

Beef brisket noodle soup (£14.90): Finn

The broth passed the eye test with a first. It was dark, rich, and lily-padded with gelatin bubbles. Upon trying, the flavour was strong, packed with meatiness, with a good deal of aniseed and warming spices to add some complexity. It ticked all of the required boxes, but lacked what I can term with clinical precision as a ‘wow-factor’.

The noodles were standard, but cooked well, while the steamed pak choi and spring onions were a nice addition.

Like a good action movie, however, this dish hinged upon extraordinary beef.

‘Melt-in-your-mouth’ has become a benchmark-setting cliché accompanying the wagyu-ification of meat standards. And yet, when encountering Lei Yue Mun’s brisket, it occurred to me that I actually prefer beef that doesn’t just dissolve on the tongue, like candy floss in a bath. It was structurally intact, and offered a subtle resistance while still being tender. The flavour was also spectacular, a benefit of slow-cooking allowing use of the tastier, but potentially tougher cuts.

“This dish hinged upon extraordinary beef”

Another key point was the beef’s abundant fat, which dazzled with its buttery texture and flavour. If you’re the type who cuts off the perimeter of fat from rashers of bacon, however, I would probably recommend giving the brisket dishes (of which there are several) a miss here.

On the whole, a thoroughly enjoyable bowl of beefy goodness.

Dish rating: 8/10

Tofu soup udon (£12.90): Luke

This dish was served with thick udon noodles, vibrant stems of pak choi, and heaps of puffed tofu.

As the resident vegetarian in my group, I’m always interested to see how restaurants tackle tofu. Well-chosen adornments of spicy and fermented sauces can turn its flavour and presence from second fiddle to frontman.

Rather than a dense and delicate bite, puffed tofu comes with a battered skin and a spongy inside. Often dubbed the ‘flavour saver’, it can take on magnificent amounts of liquid as it soaks in a bowl of glossy broth. The important question, then: is the flavour it is saving any good?

The answer in this case is, unfortunately, not particularly. While the broth was clean and fresh, it was, in a sparse description befitting the dish, bland. It seems that the absence of meat presaged an absence of flavour. Bathwater and baby were disposed of in one fell swoop.

The noodles were impressive, thick and chewy like good udon should be. On the whole, however, a fairly unremarkable bowl of noodle soup.

Dish rating: 6/10

Cold cucumber salad (£5.80)

A staple of any Chinese restaurant worth its MSG, we were always going to order this. Lei Yue Mun’s interpretation of the dish was simple, but fairly tasty. The dressing seemed of soy sauce and chilli crisp, which brought a familiar spice, salt and umami combo, with a pleasing undercurrent of numbing szechuan peppercorn. As a side dish, however, it would have benefitted from a bit more acidity. Overall, pretty straight down the middle.

“Tasty food in an unpretentious, homely atmosphere”

Dish rating: 6/10

At the end, the bill came to £36.96: for two main dishes, a side, and two soft drinks. On the whole, this places the restaurant in a potentially precarious middle ground. It was priced above what we would consider a ‘cheap eat’, but not really a push-the-boat-out, special occasion meal. We did, however, miss out on the Dim Sum, which, at three for £11, offered the most impressive value on the menu.

Our service was friendly and laid-back, and, as we’d have hoped on a quiet Thursday evening, very quick. It is certainly refreshing to see a newly-opened establishment not owned by venture capitalists, and that doesn’t sell smash burgers or matcha. While restaurants like Lei Yue Mun can’t stoke the same furore that places like Blank Street, not 50m away, manage to, they are no less important parts of Cambridge.

While we would probably advise caution to the city’s vegetarians, if you’re seeking tasty food in an unpretentious, homely atmosphere, you can’t go far wrong with Lei Yue Mun.

Overall:

Food: 7/10

Atmosphere: 7/10

Value: 7/10

Overall score: (you guessed it) 7/10