Mamafubu

61 Glassford Street, Glasgow

0141 552 9798

Lunch/Dinner: £5.50-£20

Food rating: 7½/10

MAMAFUBU is a lot better than it could be, by which I mean that its generic category, "pan-Asian bistro”, doesn’t inspire confidence. At the risk of damning it with faint praise we leave a lot happier than when we arrived. We had expected an amateurish simulacrum of Asia’s regional cuisines and while the cooking is uneven we nevertheless left pretty pleased with what we'd had, all in all, and grateful for the good value it represents.

It takes a second or two to get the hang of Mamafubu’s ordering system. We sit down at a table on the mezzanine to consider the menu then order at the ground level counter that borders an open kitchen, which bubbles, steams, and sizzles with activity. Quite fun decor we all agree. This could be a swanky joint in Saigon. The air is steamy and savoury with the aroma of evaporated soy sauce; an occasional waft of chilli catches the back of the throat. Walls are clad with split bamboo or something that looks cunningly like it. Pot plants the size of a tall man reinforce the Indochine vibe. A beautiful, studded copper counter – perhaps a hipster take on the classic French zinc bar – contains the contours of the kitchen. Coppery pillars break up the dining area; a strip of warm colonial red runs under cornicing. Lighting doesn’t intrude, but when you look it’s trendily classy, creating an easy, relaxed mood that sparkly halogen or dazzling LED bulbs will never give you. In an un-showy way, Mamafubu is cleverly kitted out.

We’re off to a good start with the potsticker dumplings, no fewer than 10, a good two mouthfuls of juicy pork and vegetable in each one, for a bargain £6.95. The fried sides are a little blonde perhaps, but that’s a quibble. Two Taiwanese bao (steamed buns) establish that Mamafubu can hit a high note. The bao are particularly light and sweetly steamy. Generous chunks of beef flank, braised into swooning submission in soy sauce, rice wine, star anise perhaps, spill out of them. A smear of pungent, exhilarating Korean khakdugi kimchi (fermented radish) livens the mellow combination. The chilli in it has flavour as well as heat.

None of us is thrilled with the banh mi, the Vietnamese-style filled baguette. With its white pork belly slices that are a bit tough and dry, the industrial bread, and its coleslaw-like salad with oddly bland Sriracha mayonnaise, it looks like something M&S product developers would work up into another dumbed-down, over-priced sandwich offering. A side of otherwise fresh and likeable kimchi is spoiled by the pondweed stink of stale garlic. Garlic doesn’t keep well, folks!

No-one likes the chewy Chinese lamb shish kebab, but there’s multilateral enthusiasm for the Vietnamese salad, a lip-smacking mountain of spiralised carrot and mooli, crispy shallot, roasted cashew nuts, cucumber, green beans, in piquant, sharp-sweet dressing. We disagree about the Wuhan hot and dry noodles, apparently a Chinese breakfast favourite. I really like the springy yellow coils in their tahini sauce, which is spiked with a minute dice of something sharp and pickled, mushroom or turnip possibly, but it’s too much of an acquired taste for others.

Taiwanese bento, served hot not cold like the Japanese equivalent, is another steal. The pork cutlet is once again too close to dry for comfort, but its undulating, rustic breadcrumb coating tastes good, as does the fresh brown rice, and the large bowl of mild, creamy curry sauce. Crunchy, slippery, diaphanous seaweed salad and a tangle of sesame-dressed spinach turn the bento into a healthy, sustaining meal at an affordable £8.50. Out of curiosity we sample the chilled mango sago, soft, little transparent balls suspended in mango coulis; a hit with me, if not the sago hater at the table.

Would we go out of our way to eat here? Probably not, but on a day when we were in the area, hungry, and wanted something hot and tasty that won’t break the bank, we’d certainly be happy to step over the threshold. It’s so much better than Wagamama.