Din Tai Fung

Monday, 7pm, opening night, it's a 40-minute wait. Saturday, 12.30pm, it's at least an hour. I'm given an order sheet and told to come back at the specified time. There's even a crossword to fill out to win a free mango pudding. Question 3 DOWN: How many folds are there on a Din Tai Fung soup dumpling? Duh. Eighteen of course, everyone knows that. Well, everyone who is eating at DTF in the first week of trade probably does. The 41-year-old Taiwanese chain and its adored xiao long bao have a cult following, and this Melbourne outlet has been a long time coming.

After browsing through Emporium, I return as instructed, but it will be another 10 minutes before I can be seated. A sign reveals that several items have already sold out. When the plastic buzzer finally goes off, I gasp with excitement and am marched through the L-shaped dining room four floors above Little Bourke Street. It seats 235 but the tables are widely spaced with plenty of room for the army of staff to flutter around efficiently. They are superbly trained, sweetly deferential and wired with radio microphones to keep the wheels turning at a cracking pace.

The decor has been optimistically described as "Scandinavian chic", which means plenty of blond wood, plastic green ferns, a large tiled bar, and three private rooms. Other "Melbourne" flourishes – bright Edison bulbs, stencil artworks, canvas holders to keep bags off the floor – are pleasing but functional.

The heart of the operation is a glassed-in dumpling lab, where a squad of masked ninjas folds dumplings like delicate paper cranes. It's like NASA, or Willy Wonka's factory; everyone has a job, from the weighers to the rollers to the pleaters. Towers of bamboo steamers emerge constantly, and any table that dares not order a basket of xiao long bao is in the wrong place. These iconic dumplings are a joyous, faultless celebration of scientific deliciousness; heavenly, thin-skinned sacks of gingery pork and molten, buttery soup that come with instructions on how to scoff them without injuring yourself. They're seriously good.

There are other things to order besides XLB. The glossy menu has photos of each dish so you know exactly what you're getting, with many starred as "recommended". More dumplings, such as the shrimp shao mai, are steaming vehicles for soy, vinegar and finely ground chilli oil. The Taiwanese chicken is a hit; a sweet-salty flattened fillet with a moreish crumb. Hot-and-sour soup is viscous and nourishing with shredded egg and spring onion, and there are numerous stir-fries, fresh greens, fried rice, and noodle dishes. The zha jiang noodle is like a vaguely Asian spag bol, a bit gluggy and lacking spice and subtlety. Ditto the dry spicy pork and prawn dumpling noodle, which is overwhelmed by Sichuan chilli sauce.

The beverage list is surprisingly nuanced – there aren't many Chinatown restaurants with Garage Project Hops or Red Hill Wheat Beer on the menu, plus local wines that have been matched to the dishes. There's a stack of sickly-sweet signature drinks including the lychee mint freeze that's as smooth as a Slurpee, or the ridiculously named Green Apple Italian Soda, which is neither apple, nor Italian (though it is very green).

Desserts are similarly sugary, including even more steamed buns filled with gritty taro, red bean or sesame, and flamboyant ice concoctions in elevated glass bowls. When I hand in my crossword to get a free mango pudding, I'm given an alarmed look. "Sorry, all gone!"

At the end of the meal there's no time to linger. The order sheet is checked, the bill printed, the table turned over for the next party. It's a cycle that's been perfected a million times, and can be built anywhere from Taipei to LA. Yet it's hard to top this for a reliable, city dumpling fix, especially if you need something from Uniqlo while you're at it.

Some chains can't earn any cred no matter how hard they try – paging McDonalds, Starbucks – but Din Tai Fung is like the Apple of fast food. Sydney has seven outlets and counting, so expect more to come, and be prepared to wait.

THE LOWDOWN:
Pro tip: Arrive a few minutes before opening to land a table in the first intake.

Go-to-dish: Xiao long bao pork dumpling, $10.80.

Drinks: Short, sharp list of local wines, signature soft drinks and excellent craft beers.

Vegetarian: Several meat-free dumplings and stir-fries, as long as they're not sold out.

Like this? China Spice is a new-ish student hangout offering no-frills xiao long bao at 280 Little Lonsdale Street, Melbourne.

Level 4, Emporium, 287 Lonsdale Street (enter via Caledonian Lane), Melbourne, Victoria

• 03 9654 1876
• http://www.dintaifung.com.au

• Cuisine - Chinese
• Prices - Small plates $6-$10; mains $14-$23; dessert $2-$12
• Features - Licensed
• Opening Hours - Lunch, Mon-Fri 11.30am-2.30pm; Sat-Sun 11am-3pm; dinner, Mon-Wed 5:30pm-9pm; Thu-Sat 5pm-10pm; Sun 5pm-9pm
• Author - Michael Harry

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