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We found it!

Keen observers of this column would know that when reviewing mod-Asian restaurants in Perth, we inevitably make comparisons with the best of the genre: Chin Chin, Ginger Boy, Supernormal and Longrain – all in Melbourne – and Mr Wong in Sydney.

Many locals have tried to cut their menu from the same cloth as these renowned restaurants – some have hubristically compared themselves directly with Chin Chin, Ginger Boy, et al - but Perth has never cracked the Sino-Vietnamese-Thai-Cantonese-Straya culinary code.

That we’ve found a WA restaurant with dishes with the megaton blast of, say, Chin Chin’s green papaya salad with chilli, shrimp floss and peanuts, is one thing. That it has been here all along and has, remarkably, improved year-on-year to reach these heights is another.

When Mal Chow first lit the woks at Chow’s Table five years ago, it was good, but not great, enjoyable but nothing to rhapsodise over. Some of the dishes were a little muddled.

We loved it and wrote a good review at the time. We could see what he was striving for. Would he make it? Would he get there?

No one else has managed the Chin Chin thing in WA, despite symphonic levels of trumpet blowing from some chefs.

We’ve been to Chow’s Table six or seven times in the last five years. Our last visit, this week, was a chilli-infused, sweet and sour eye-opener and, again (that’s three big-scoring reviews in a row now, a real purple patch) one of the best lunches, ever.

Chef Chow has hit his straps. Nothing exemplifies this more than cold cut chicken with numbing sauce and cashews.

Chicken breast was lightly brined with spring onion for a few hours, poached and served cold, swimming in a mildly fiery bath of chilli oil, black vinegar, Sichuan pepper and cashews.

It is reminiscent of Neil Perry’s version when he owned Spice Temple and just as good.

Speaking of megaton blasts, the chicken was a precision-guided weapon of immense flavour and texture. The peppercorns did their numbing thing perfectly, with monster flavours all in proportion. The chicken was tender and moist. Impressive.

Roast duck owed a lot to its Cantonese roots. It was darker than a Russian novelist, burnished by a coating of maltose and black vinegar and five days ageing. The cavity was spritzed with hoi sin and dehydrated orange rind.

Chef Chow has one of those large stainless steel roasting ovens one sees all over Hong Kong where roast meats are cooked and ducks hang in windows. It’s easier to be excellent when you have the right tools.

Crisp, umami-laden skin, superhero flavour, moist, very moist flesh and a light ducky, vinegary sauce you could drink.

Char-grilled octopus out-Chin Chin-ed Chin Chin. We’ve never tasted occy like this. You’d sell your soul to the devil to eat this every day for the rest of your life, albeit an eternity in hell sitting on an 800C char grill while listening to Harry and Meghan whine about their oppression. Pure hell.

Anyhoo, the char on the big, fat octopus tentacles was right on the edge; blackened in parts, caramelised crunchy where the sugars in the sauce met the flame. It was crunchy and soft, not slimy and over-cooked as many are. And the flavour? Gosh. Awesome. A hot, sour sauce of chilli, lime and a funky Asian backbeat was bodacious, larger than life, addictive.

Chicken ribs were breaded with a pugnacious five-spice powder with flavours amplified by chunks of salty onion in a sauce of indescribable beauty. What did Mike Tyson say? Everyone’s got a plan until they get punched in the face. I got flavour-punched in the face.

And so it went. A cauliflower curry was more Indian than anything else on the menu but with traces of Thai flavour and a deep, rich gratifying sourness.

Roti bread, an $8 supplement, was flakier than a new age life coach. It was buttery, probably from ghee, and nutty from the fire.

The service standards continue to be excellent. Chow has a knack for finding restaurant bosses who stand out for their customer interaction, knowledge and helpfulness.

No wish to fanboy Chow, but what he has achieved here is rare. Many restaurants, even the ones with good and ambitious chefs, start off with a bang and slowly lose their way as the daily grind of making payroll, long hours and dealing with vulgarian customers takes its toll on even the hardiest of souls.

Chow has done the opposite. Every time we’ve visited, the food had been better, more precise, the flavours more integrated.

Has Chow’s Table reached its apogee? We suspect not. If the past five years are anything to go by, the dishes at Chow’s Table will become better.

For the time being though, we can enjoy arguably the finest, casual Aussie-Asian dishes this side of the Yarra River.