Lanzhou Hand-Pulled Noodles, Park Street: 'Comfort food for the student masses'
Jason relives his University days
The Bristol Sauce has gained a lot of new subscribers in the last few days — was it something we published? — and I want to offer a warm welcome to our new readers. Part two of the True Cost of Influencing will be published at 4pm on Monday, but meanwhile here’s a restaurant review from one of our very talented writers, Jason. For those that are new here, a timely reminder that we always aim to visit restaurants anonymously, we pay for everything we eat and drink, we are honest to a fault and we never use AI in any of our writing. Thanks for reading ~ Meg.
When I cast my mind back to being a university student some fifteen years ago, I remember being hungry. This isn’t me attempting to make platitudes concerning a hunger for knowledge or anything quite so nauseating. I mean, like, literally hungry. All the time. Short on cash and graced with the vestiges of a teenager’s metabolism, I obsessed over food. Like many of us, it was at this point that I was metaphorically press-ganged into learning how to cook. Grateful as I was and am to have this skill foisted upon me out of sheer necessity, the desire to nourish myself was not all I longed for. I became obsessed with eating out and subsequently, the food hall culture of Auckland City; tantalised through plate glass by steaming hot bowls of things-in-broth.
The Chinese diaspora and the formative effect its cuisine exerted over me from an early age is something I have discussed on this platform before. And it must be said that student living proved a sufficient hindrance in my continued enjoyment of it. But whenever my meagre maintenance loan would allow, I would indulge in one of my favourites, Lanzhou la mian or Lanzhou-style beef noodles: hand-pulled wheat noodles served simply with stewed beef, consommé, and fresh herbs such as coriander leaf and spring onion. I believe the simplicity to be this dish’s badge of pride.
Walking up Park Street on an oddly chilly May evening, I’m reminded of why I wouldn’t usually do this on a Saturday. We spot three separate hen parties trudging their way up and down Bristol’s main student thoroughfare, one half of one of the groups dragging the other half, screaming mercilessly about nothing that any of us can decipher. Groups of vape-toting lads leer menacingly out of sports bars at the passersby, hollering football chants at a volume equal to the hens and I’m beginning to ask myself if we’ve made a mistake.
Thankfully, we are eventually afforded solace from Bristol’s own version of la passeggiata by newly arrived restaurant, Lanzhou Hand-Pulled Noodles. A blue and white neon haven welcomes us, flanked with red vinyl chairs reminiscent of a North American diner. The place is packed with students, faces obscured by the plumes of steam emanating from the bowls in front of them.
We are proffered English-language menus and order quickly, the wintery air and expedient schlep up the hill have exacerbated our appetites to the point of maddening desperation. Black plastic buzzers beckon us back to the till within minutes, where three big bowls of the eponymous beef noodles are placed on the counter fresh from the stove (£12.50).
The setup here reminds me of certain French bistros, where metal gastros are filled with room temperature accoutrements, ready to be doled out in a self-service style. Presented are five sides (£2 for a mixture of your choosing): shredded potato and dried chillies passed through oil, retaining a pleasant crunch, kelp salad, abundant with umami, boiled peanuts, tofu skin, and blanched bean sprouts, both deceptively spicy. In the centre and pride of place is the largest bowl of chilli oil I have ever seen, hypnotically red, and so deep it appears fathomless.
The result is quite overwhelming. Where once there was hunger, now the indeterminable pang of worry that we may have indeed over-ordered resides. Blisteringly hot and resembling an actual mountain in terms of quantity, I am taken back to those food halls in delightful reverie. All that we hear for the next ten minutes are the sounds of satisfied slurping filling the room. This is comfort food for the student masses. And us.
For a stab at variety we have ordered a dry, soupless version of the beef noodles and a stir-fried chicken iteration (£9.80). The chicken dish has much less in the way of heady aroma when compared to the beef, but I might suggest this to someone slightly less adventurous with their ordering, satisfactorily savoury, oily and accented with celery. To cut through the richness of the meal we are brought three glasses of a delicious sour plum drink (£2) which we’re told is quite traditional and we quaff it back eagerly.
Not content with simply following the path well-trod, I order the one thing on the menu which isn’t translated into English. This turns out to be a cold pig ear salad (£5.40), dressed with garlic paste, chilli, and coriander leaf. I dress it further with black vinegar and soy sauce (available on every table), intermittently returning to it between large mouthfuls of beef and broth. Cartilaginous and resembling the flavour of unsmoked bacon, I wouldn’t venture that this would sit well with a general western audience but I enjoy it immensely.
As I have my face inches from my bowl, seemingly tethered to the table by way of noodle, I notice someone sit down with us out of the corner of my eye. Mr. Yu, the proprietor, a bemused smirk on his face, contently makes himself at home at our table. He wants to know how I’m getting on with the pig ears and informs me that the reason they’re on the menu is for one regular customer who requested them. If that isn’t community spirit, I don’t know what is.
At the time of writing, this place has no listing on Google Maps and zero social media presence; a rare anomaly in today’s culinary landscape. Mr. Yu hopes that addressing this in the coming weeks will improve trade. The only mention of this place online is a lone Bristol24/7 article positing that it should be open soon. Well, it now is. And by golly, am I happy about that.
All words and photos by Jason Jay Pridham
Lanzhou Hand-Pulled Noodles, 85 Park Street, BS1 5PJ
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