Katherine MacAlister is delighted that Oxford’s star Chinese restaurant is still the very best in the business

It’s pistols at dawn in Oxford’s Chinatown, SoJo’s Teresa Leong at one end of the dusty street, holster on, fingers on the trigger while Zheng’s Adam Tan kicks his spurs at the other end in Jericho.

It all kicked off when Adam jumped ship, setting up on his own in the old Bombay curry house site in Walton Street, which is going great guns by all accounts, excuse the pun.

When Teresa’s head chef then moved to London, rumours began circulating. Was there trouble at t’mill? Not judging by the packed interior which greeted us last Friday night — there wasn’t a spare seat in sight, people actually queueing out of the door, waiting for a hallowed table. Jun Li has obviously stepped easily into his new head chef boots then.

The relief was palpable, because I love SoJo. There aren’t many things Giles Coren and I agree on, but his unshakeable belief that Sojo is right up there on the national stage in terms of Chinese food is one I heartily agree with, although the food would ultimately decide.

If you haven’t been, you might not even know where it is, so deceptive are SoJo’s premises on Hythe Bridge Street, next to the Glee comedy club, inauspicious surroundings at best.

But be brave and venture in, because as soon as you step into SoJo’s sleek, bustling interior, you know you’ve arrived somewhere special. There’s an almost tangible air of excitement as the dishes pour out of the kitchen to feed the waiting masses, the energy of expectant diners balancing out the bonhomie of its replete customers.

I always let Teresa choose our food — for a start the menu is enormous and dazzling, plus she’s very good at ordering bespoke meals for her diners, asking about your tastes and preferences first. Smiling, she scribbled away on her pad, adding a few requests, personal favourites and we sat back and awaited our feast. And what a feast it was.

I’m still savouring it two weeks later, images of the sleek, dark shine of the stewed aubergines with fresh chillies (£8) and the dish is soft, deep in taste refusing to dissipate, or the crisp bite and crunch of the lettuce wrap filled with chinese veg in a Hoisin Sauce (£8), the perfect texture of the tempura with sake and mirin dip, the kick of the Szechuan Godmother Chilli Beef with leeks (£8.90), the smooth oiliness of the satay sauce, the depth of the peppercorn broth which accompanied the Szechuan Beef with Glass Noodles (£12) or the unforgettable taste of the green beans (Gan Bian salt caramelised beans with sundried chillies £7), the simplest ingredients being transformed into something momentous. There was more... we scoffed down the Mongolian-style salt-and-pepper ribs (£7) and the famous salt-pepper garlic spicy squid (£7.50), — the dishes vying for space as we clashed chopsticks in our haste to try everything. It was like jumping into a copper bath of warm, oiled water and lying there luxuriously as it laps against the side.

“The thing I love most about SoJo,” Mr Greedy managed as hoisin sauce slipped down his chin, “is that however many times I come here it always surprises me,” before plunging back into the Shanghainese sweet soy duck, as happy as the Vietnamese pig in George Clooney’s backyard.

Because it’s not just about the convivial atmosphere, the buzz, the hum, the menu choice, it’s about the vibrancy of the food which envelopes you in a giant, pungent, opulent, exotic, enveloping cloud. SoJo’s greatest achievement, however, is its uniformity.

In my eyes, there is no margin here for anything but excellence.

Like a wind-up toy that finally runs out of momentum, reason finally replaced greed and we managed to nod at each other in satisfaction over our empty plates, the arrival of the toffee caramelised pineapple with sesame seeds and Mövenpick vanilla ice-cream (£6.50) reviving us only momentarily.

A giant pat on the back for Teresa then, who for me anyway is the one left standing, blowing the smoke off her pistols, the bodies of lesser Chinese rivals littering the streets.

Clint Eastwood eat your heart out, because, for me, SoJo is still top of the tree.

So be adventurous when you go there — anything else is a waste.

SoJo 
6-9 Hythe Bridge Street, Oxford, OX1 2EW
01865 202888
sojooxford.co.uk

Opening times: Mon–Sat noon-11pm (kitchen shuts at 10.30pm), Sun noon-10pm (kitchen shuts at 9.30pm)
Parking: Worcester Street car park
Key personnel: Manager Teresa Leong, head chef, Mr Jun Li
Make sure you try... Teresa’s personal recommendations. After all, she’s the expert
In ten words:  Oxford’s best-kept secret, and one to be proud of.