I had a hopeful and retro dinner at Edinburgh's most viral restaurant

Gaby Soutar

It seems that social media is only 98 per cent nefarious.

Sometimes, it can make a positive change. A good case in point is China Star.

This rather nondescript and old-school looking restaurant opened on Edinburgh’s West Maitland Street, near Haymarket Station, back in 1997.

In recent years, its seventysomething owner, Sophie Li, has been struggling to keep her business afloat. The sun-bleached golden lucky cats in the window weren’t doing their job.

Li could no longer afford to employ staff, so was doing almost everything herself.

Then, her London-based daughter, Lisa He, who is an actor and has a part in the upcoming Harry Potter audiobooks, put out a mission statement to her TikTok followers back in April.

“My mum’s Chinese restaurant is dying and I have three months to save it,” she said, before going on to cite the uninviting exterior and outdated menu, which featured over 200 dishes.

This viral video has had 14m views, and many people have continued to follow the journey on Lisa’s account.

You could say that their luck has changed since then. They now have three full time kitchen staff.

However, as Lisa posted in another TikTok video, “Virality gets attention but it doesn’t fix broken businesses”. There is still work to do, and she has taken on a multitude of jobs, from manager to bottle-washer, at the restaurant.

At least footfall is up. Also, it seems that brands now want to be associated with this influencer-friendly place.

I discover this, when I’m invited to a rather surreal one-off event - a Monday night dinner, which is organised by noodle makers, Lucky Boat. This evening will also feature a couple of social media star guests, in the form of mother and son team Chin and Choo. I’ve never heard of them, but that’s irrelevant, as they have an incredible 622.5k followers on TikTok and have written a book, The Ultimate Chinese Takeaway Bible, which has recipes for things like salt and pepper chips.

There is an excitable queue outside when we arrive, and we’re greeted by Lisa and her mum.

When we bag our table on the mezzanine level, the teenage boys at the table beside us are proudly getting their hardback copy signed by Choo. This duo will be cooking one dish tonight - Chin & Choo’s Chow Mein, for £10, with all the funds raised at tonight’s dinner going back into the business.

We feel obliged to order this special, along with a classic sweet and sour chicken (£10) and a beef in black bean sauce (£10), plus carbs in the form of egg fried rice (£4).

The menu is very edited, with just four mains, and I wonder if this is a permanent change or if they’ll be going back to 200 or so items tomorrow.

As we wait, I get a chance to check out the space. It gives me all the nostalgic Nineties feels. The tables - a couple of which have the addition of lazy Susans - are covered in margarine-hued paper, and topped with blush-coloured roses. There’s a horse-shoe shaped bar at the entrance, and strings of fairy lights that dangle against the net curtains.

Downstairs, the loo has a bright yellow door and I can’t read the handwriting very well but it looks like the sign says; “Uni sex, please keep sparking”.

It’s quite packed here in the basement, with stacks of cans, woks and other essential supplies. I presume the kitchen is down here too.

The inner workings remind me of a book I read recently, Takeaway, which is a brilliant autobiography from Angela Hui about growing up in her parents’ Chinese restaurant in a small Welsh village. Anyway, it’s quite revealing, when it comes to the dynamics of a family restaurant. I don’t know how Li has been doing all this herself.

She looks ebullient tonight, as she meets, greets and films customers, who have given permission to be part of any content. The viral avalanche just keeps gathering pace.

In fact, there is a vlogger at a table near us, who is recording a running narrative of his evening.

The food arrives, and it’s all lovely. The chow mein is full of silky chicken, big bouncy prawns, skinny noodles and transparent bean sprouts, with a smoky flavour and 1/3tsp of MSG to pump up the moreish-ness. I don’t think you should mess with a classic sweet and sour chicken, and this portion has the prerequisite pineapple, peppers and onion chunks in a dayglo sauce that’s as clingy as Kim Kardashian’s underwear line.

Gaby Soutar

The mahogany-coloured beef dish is super garlicky and peppery, and my other half’s eyes glaze over as he starts to Hoover everything up. He’s in the zone now.

There is toffee apple (£6), ice cream (£4) and pineapple fritters (£5) for pudding. I am pretty stuffed, though I can’t help being drawn to the banana fritters (£5).

My late dad used to always choose them, whenever we’d go to the Chinese restaurant Rendezvous on Edinburgh’s Queensferry Street. I think about ordering them in tribute, but it’s probably wise not to invoke one’s dead parent as an excuse to stuff your face with deep-fried fruit. Maybe next time.

Let’s hope there is another opportunity to return and that China Star remains in its West Maitland Street spot for another three months. And then another three months after that.

Hopefully, with the help of Lisa He, this institution will continue to keep sparking.

China Star, 6a West Maitland Street, Edinburgh, www.chinastarchinese.co.uk

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