How our pan-Asian dining scene beat the Census by ten years

Chin Chin wowed and surprised when it first hit Surry Hills, but now it’s so much a part of the furniture it needs to change up its act to stay interesting, writes The Mouth.

There are parts of Australia, like Wagga Wagga or Darling Point, where unless you’ve been kicking around for generations you’ll never really be considered a local.

But outside these holdouts of the old Bunyip Aristocracy it’s really a whole different Australia.

The other day the newspapers gleefully reported census figures showing we are now a mostly migrant nation – one of the few in all of human history to try such an experiment and not have it end with everyone trying to kill each other.

Theories abound as to why it’s all worked so relatively well.

Maybe it is the weather, not that you’d know it these days.

A dish at Surry Hills’ Chin Chin.

Or perhaps it is Australia’s unique combination of parliamentary democracy and state-encouraged dobbing that lets newcomers from less liberal parts of the globe feel like they’ve moved up in the world without getting too homesick.

This column was thinking about this the other day as we were having a chatty business lunch at Surry Hills’ Chin Chin, a place that made quite a splash when it first landed but then has become if not a “classic”, ”establishment” destination then at least that rarest of beasts, a stayer.

The super cool ex-warehouse dining room at Chin Chin.

In some ways, this is no bad thing, and in the kindest of ways this column suggests it is a bit like McDonald’s insofar as you know you’re always getting something tasty and good (if more expensive).

But as we chatted and conspired our way through one of the chef’s menus – the easiest way to order – squid and scallops and steamed fish and short ribs and so on and enjoyed the hits of chilli and lime and lemongrass this column also thought, just quietly, “so what?”

Some will of course say, “Well, Mouth, shouldn’t you be happy with a place with staying power, given your complaints about Sydney’s will-o’-the-wisp dining habits,” and that is fair enough.

The food was good, particularly the short ribs and some fiery brussels sprouts (truly) but also now not the sort of thing that surprises any more; the drinks fine, if a bit tropical resort.

Chin Chin.

The room was buzzy, two-thirds full on a Friday arvo, and the service on the slightly chaotic side of warm and competent.

In other words, all good – and perhaps a reflection of the way various groups land

here, make a bit of a splash, and become part of the furniture.