‘I queued for Chinatown’s new viral restaurant and I couldn’t have anticipated what happened next’

Flanked by Swan Thai Massage and Spa and Long Legs lap dancing club you’ll find Manchester’s latest culinary obsession.

Kung Foo Noodle, a restaurant specialising in the cooking of Gansu Province in northwestern China, has arrived in Manchester after establishing a cult-like following in London.

Set up by Alex Xu, who is also responsible for bubble tea favourites Happy Lemon and Taiwanese dessert spot Meet Fresh, the concept centres around hand-pulled noodles, hot and cold soups and an array of melt-in-the-mouth toppings.

Its name is a nod to the chefs who look like they’re practising Kung Fu as they freshly prepare the dishes in the open kitchen. Each batch carefully and lovingly kneaded, cut and pulled before being submerged in bowls of piping hot broth.

A standout from the menu is their Lanzhou beef noodle soup. Hand stretched noodles float in a clear broth and are topped with tender beef, crunchy spring onions and more than a drizzle of chilli oil.

I can say with some certainty that this place has dominated Mancunian’s social media feeds since opening its doors last week.

As well as their specialty beef soup, their take on Xi’an hot oil-seared Biang Biang noodles or Shanxi knife-cut noodles have been doing the rounds on Instagram and TikTok.

Everyone from influencers and foodies, to tourists and locals alike have posted videos of themselves deftly coaxing wide-cut, oil- and chilli-drenched noodles from a swimming pool-sized bowl and lifting them up for the camera.

What doesn’t make the final edit is the split second where the noodles liberate themselves free from the chopsticks, land back in the soup and cause the vividly-hued elixir to splash back.

I know this because this was my experience when I visited the viral sensation noodle spot earlier this week. I’m sure others are much more delicate when handling noodles, but I have few qualms about being a messy eater, as this outing illustrated.

Sidling up to the George Street restaurant I took my place in what I assumed was the queue. It was rather naive of me to think that there would only be a few others in front of me.

As a staff member came out to greet the next table he gave me a look, gestured across the road and turned back to the restaurant. Clearly I had underestimated the popularity because as I glanced across the road I soon saw that it stretched all the way down to the street.

A little red-faced I made my way to the back of the queue and contemplated whether I was willing to spend my Monday night in the queue.

I’ve covered my fair share of queues. There’s been viral cake slices, beauty giant giveaways and teen-sensation pop stars attracting lengthy queues at the crack of dawn.

I won’t bore you with the psychology of a queue, though I suppose if you’re reading this whilst in one then it might pass some time. Regardless, it doesn’t always mean the end result is a quality one.

Despite some reservations, I stuck it out and was pleasantly surprised to see it moved rather quickly. It was run with the type of military precision and efficiency that I thrive on, so it was a promising start after a slight blunder on my behalf.

It was around 30 minutes for a table but the scent of fresh meats and chilli that wafted from the kitchens and up the stairwell was enough to keep me in line.

It was packed, and I was seated at a table between groups of friends and family. Some might worry they look like a lemon eating alone, but generally, I find it joyful to dine solo.

You can order what you want without the unnecessary social niceties, you don’t have to share, and you can leave whenever you want. Just pay the bill though.

Anyway, I was given a few looks but with as the food arrive swiftly, I didn’t give it too much thought. Full disclosure, as the first dish arrived it was clear I had over ordered.

As it’s the speciality I had to try the Lanzhou hand-pulled beef noodle soup (£13.80) with wide noodles – you can opt for several widths from thin to extra wide – topped with beef shank (an extra £2).

I knew the noodles were knocking about beneath the surface but for a moment I was slightly hypnotised by the bowl of steaming soup in front of me.

Imagine being up in the space station and looking down on the topography of the earth – the mountains and sea intersecting, the lesser populated areas bountiful with lush, green forests crashing up against cities, and the shading as night gives way into day.

What sat in front of me was like that. One side dominated by fresh, crunchy spring onions and a smattering of parsley, the other an intoxicating swirl of red oil with a healthy covering of chilli flakes. A piece of beef poking its way through the divide.

I plunged the chopsticks into the bowl of broth, diving for the hand cut noodles that had been setting social media alright. Thankfully they were worth the hype with an almost buttery texture but with a bit of bite for contrast. The beef was sublime, tender, and juicy – definitely worth the upgrade.

A little eager though, I accidentally inhaled a rogue chilli flake which set into motion a sneeze that I can only describe as life-affirming. It was as if years of repressed emotions came to the fore, which as you might imagine, caught me slightly off guard.

Snapping me out of some sort of existential crisis, two more dishes were placed in front of me. The first a terracotta bowl of chopped cucumber (£7.80), swimming in a pool of vinegar and dotted with small chillies.

I expected a side portion so the size sent alarm bells ringing, though the roughly chopped pieces of tangy cucumber provided some much needed respite from the dishes with more heat, the second of which was a portion of Wontons in chilli oil.

Equally as mesmerising as the broth that first arrived, I persevered as plump wontons packed with pork mince slipped between the chopsticks, eventually usually the sharp end of the utensil to pierce the chewy outer shell.

It was at this precise moment that something distracted me. A woman, slightly younger than myself awkwardly placed herself on the other side of the small table.

“I’m sorry, when they pointed to this table, I wasn’t sure if you knew you were having to share,” she mumbled quietly.

I’m used to sitting side-by-side people in coffee shops, or perching on a stool next to other customers at the bar, but this was slightly new to me and raised a smile. I’m sure her embarrassment was also due to her catching me at the exact moment I’d dropped a wonton too.

Letting her peruse the menu for the minute, I debated sitting in some awkward silence but decided to strike up a conversation. What transpired was a rather lovely discussion about work, education, and the best places to eat in Manchester and London.

Up from the capital for work, she had been to the original site in London before and was in search of sustenance after a long-day at work.

Telling me about where else she had tried in the city, it was nice to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t know the ins-and-outs of the food scene and was willing to be given some more recommendations for her next visit.

When I eat alone typically, I do keep to myself, doing very little to draw attention to myself, but on this occasion, something compelled me to reach out.

I can be a bit socially awkward when on my own, but this unexpected interaction combined with a hearty meal, brought me out of my shell – making it one of my most memorable to date.

If you’re thinking of braving the queues, just know that while there’s plenty of noodle dishes on offer, the rest of the menu is worth exploring too.

Whether its the pork wontons in a variety of oils and pastes, deep fried crinkle potatoes, sliced beef shank or duck tongue, I hope plenty of people make the trip, even when the social media buzz dies down.