The Sunday Times - A A Gill Gives Bar Shu A Four Star Review

This had me crying with laughter over the weekend: "The reason I’m unsure about exactly what we ate is because almost everything looked like disembodied shards of gloop submerged in an oily miasma with a grated topping of chilli. The first mouthful thudded me back in my chair and I emitted a small strangulated, “Wow!” It was almost the last coherent thing I said. After that, a painful numbness spread through my mouth and each new dish was experienced as a mugger’s stab behind the eyes. It seemed as if an unseen hand was roughly injecting Algipan up my nose. My cheeks began to melt and my lips quivered with an involuntary palsy. Sticky sweat ran down my back into pools in my soggy underpants. With a strangulated falsetto, I managed to ask the waiter to bring the specially mixed offal stewed in medieval dragon spit. “Very hot,” said the waiter. “You sure?” Bring it on, China boy, I sighed. "What arrived was another cauldron — an inferno of blood-curdled oil, Bruegelishly bobbing with tripe and lurking flesh, scabbed with chilli. I prodded with my chopsticks and came out with a corner of pig’s liver that collapsed like hot jelly. The whole thing looked like nothing so much as the bucket under a field-hospital operating table. I put a piece of nameless gut in my mouth and it was as if everything that had come before had merely been toying with me. I heard a distant choir, a white light exploded in my head, and I went to a place beyond physical agony, beyond understanding, a place of pure pain outside worldly vanity. I looked down and could see myself, my face glazed with my own juices, my hair standing in sticky fronds, puce eyeballs protruding and revolving like dashboard compasses, my mouth codding with mumbles as I shook and hiccupped with involuntary spasms. All the major junctions of my body oozed with a noisome effluvium." Read the full review at Times Online