Da Long Yi London Hot Pot Restaurant Review
“Have you ever tried hot pot before?”
A simple question that set us off on a quest to Da Long Yi, a Sichuan restaurant tucked just off Oxford Street.
As a self-proclaimed food aficionado, I was almost embarrassed to admit I’d never tried it before, a confession that caught me so off guard I nearly laughed at myself.
Da Long Yi’s interior radiates warmth. The wooden benches, warm lighting, and faint hum of conversation create a sense of calm anticipation. Each table features a built-in hot pot, the centrepiece of a dining experience that is as tactile as it is theatrical. Led to our table by a kind member of staff, we were greeted by a fragrant swirl of spice that seemed to follow us, as though to hint at what was to come.
The process is methodical and strangely meditative. You begin by choosing your broth, the foundation of the meal. Because there were two of us, we were advised to try a dual pot, half tomato and fried egg soup, half pork bone broth. The former arrived rich and gently sweet, the latter silky and savoury, a reminder that even before the first bite, flavour here is layered and deliberate.
Then came the sides: rice or noodles, depending on how you intend to balance the richness of your broth. But before you get too comfortable, you’re ushered toward one of Da Long Yi’s defining features - the sauce bar, a gleaming altar of condiments and fresh herbs that lets diners mix and match their own combinations. There are recipe cards for guidance, though half the pleasure lies in experimentation. My mix was a mild chaos of sesame paste, garlic, coriander, and soy - messy to look at but deeply satisfying to taste.
Naturally, I had come prepared. A scroll through their social media had made it clear that the Volcano Beef was non-negotiable, and its arrival was as dramatic as expected. Delicate slices of marbled beef, arranged in a conical tower over crushed ice, glistened beneath the restaurant’s amber light. Once submerged in the tomato broth, the beef turned tender and buttery, absorbing the sweetness of the soup without losing its natural depth.
A one-metre platter of assorted meats followed, presented on a long wooden board that elicited a genuine gasp. Between bites of lamb, beef, and our earlier experiments from the sauce bar, we found ourselves caught in a rhythm of dipping, tasting, and comparing notes. There was a quiet joy to the process - the kind that happens when food becomes both conversation and experience.
For balance, we added a vegetable platter and a plate of beef tongue slices. The vegetables, remarkably fresh for winter in London, softened beautifully in the simmering broth. The beef tongue, sliced thin and cooked in seconds, was silky and surprisingly delicate.
For all its spectacle, Da Long Yi’s appeal lies in its authenticity. With over 300 restaurants worldwide, the brand is celebrated for its signature Sichuan spice, fiery yet balanced, numbing yet fragrant. The signature spicy broth, made with beef tallow, Sichuan peppercorns, and over twenty aromatics, offers complexity rather than aggression. It’s the kind of spice that builds slowly, rewarding rather than punishing.
Ordering is done digitally, but the experience feels deeply human. It’s communal dining reimagined for modern London: immersive, interactive, and genuinely memorable.
Da Long Yi isn’t simply a restaurant; it’s a reminder of how dining can still surprise us. It transforms the familiar act of eating into something closer to performance, and in doing so, restores a little sense of wonder to the city’s dining scene.