I arrive late on a Thursday evening and the place is rammed with not a table free and barely room to move at the bar. The new décor gives it a kitschy Chinese vibe: hanging lanterns, bordello red walls and video promos written in Mandarin papered to the walls. It looks good, not too overblown, which suits the food and clearly the mood: folks keep on coming long after closing time has been and gone and the kitchen keeps on rocking.

Because the speciality this time around—aside from the dumplings, obviously—is beer, 40 different types in all, I decide to put myself in Jazz’s hands. I’m not a massive beer lover on the whole, though I confess to enjoying the odd pint of Old Speckled Hen after a country walk back home in Blighty, but “OK” I say, “convince me.”

Perched at the edge of the bar, with a plate of delightfully chewy tofu-skin dumplings stuffed with pork and prawn and a soupçon of water chestnut, giving a slight crunch to the steaming savoury middle before me, we kick off with a mild, unfiltered Hopfner Kräusen from Germany. It’s a pale gold colour, cloudy, with a creamy head. Smells fresh, a little fruity with the warmth of boiled barley and there’s no doubt it kick-starts your appetite.

Poring over the fill-in-yourself menu between sips I realise that I have ticked nearly all the boxes; it’s way too much but I’m struggling to choose. The truth is I’ve been waiting for this moment a long time. Sure, folks have tried over the years. There’s Out of China with their posh dim sum, and La Xina with their interesting if unorthodox fillings, but until now the proper, home-style dumplings of a steamy kitchen and raucous atmosphere that I have come to associate with proper Chinatown dumpling houses have been elusive. For me, a dumpling fix is something deeply cosseting and should never, ever, be ‘designer’ or ‘cool’.