When you enter a restaurant and it’s brightly lit and almost deserted, things can go one of two ways. Either the evening will be a complete disaster, or this is a hidden gem that we shouldn’t be shouting about too loudly lest its popularity suddenly explodes. The Hunan Man fortunately falls into the latter camp, albeit after a decidedly inauspicious start.
Early January may, admittedly, not be peak dining season anywhere in London. Budgets and waistlines are both recovering after yuletide excesses. It is, however, a great time for those keen to eat out, since reservations are easy to secure at most venues. The Hunan Man proved no exception. Booking was unnecessary. For most of the evening our trio comprised the venue’s only guests. One of my dining comrades remarked that he could at least hear everyone speak. I guess we made our own atmosphere. The same gentleman asked innocently enough, “so, are we eating Cantonese food tonight?" I responded, “no, the clue is in the restaurant’s name, but I am sure our server can tell you more about it than me.” Luckily, she had appeared at this very moment the conversation was taking place. Less fortunately, the server appeared thrown by the question, like a rabbit in the headlights. She said she would ask her boss to elaborate. This never happened, but I was at least able to highlight that Hunan is a mountainous province in southern China, to the east of Sichuan. It shares some of this region’s culinary characteristics, emphasising spice and pepper, but with more subtlety than boldness.
The proof – literally – was in the pudding. A more experienced server guided us through the menu. Laminated pictures (yes, still in 2025, not 1985) may be all well and good, but we had no idea of the size or the heat of any of the dishes. Our selection was ultimately narrowed down to one starter and two sets of dumplings to begin followed by two mains, a noodle dish and a vegetable side. All pleased. The Hunan Man amply delivered in terms of both presentation and balance across the dishes.
In the kitchen is apparently a veteran chef from Hunan, and so he should know what he’s doing. There’s much on the menu available for the non-faint hearted. Think offal and whole crabs. We ventured more conservatively, starting with a salt and pepper mushroom dish. This proved simple yet effective. Deep-fry mushrooms and then garnish liberally with seasoning. What you see is what you get, but when executed well, this combination can stimulate all the senses. At the Hunan Man, it was neither too greasy nor excessively spicy. Mains impressed even more so. Both the unappealingly named ‘black pepper beef cubes’ and the equally poorly titled ‘stir-fried dry chicken’ were true flavour sensations with multiple textures interplaying and the tastes tingling on the tongue long after consumption.
Portion sizing throughout verged towards the generous and our tea provided ample libation. At no more than £50/head – admittedly with only a couple of beers added into the total – the Hunan Man provides a great opportunity to try a new regional variation of cuisine. Go now, before it gets too busy.