Dazzling choice at the Mayflower

Above: Mayflower

Austin is our friend from Beijing. His real name is Xu, pronounced ‘Shoo’ and his family name is Wang, which means his mum, for example, calls him Wang Xu. But like all Chinese people I know who work in England, he has chosen himself a European name to use, like a spare toothbrush, abroad. “I looked through the internet and found Austin,” he explains, in a way strangely reminiscent of Ford Prefect.
It was Austin who introduced me to chicken feet as a delicacy, an experience I’ve finally come to terms with. I thought, when he first mentioned them, that this was a witty euphemism for something delicious. I was wrong.
They say that when you’re drowning, your life flashes before you in an elongated second. Something similar happens when you realise it’s too late to back out of eating chicken feet. Somewhere between the bowl and your mouth, all the wrong things you’ve ever done come back to you with bitter clarity.
For one thing, they look so like – well, chicken feet. The taste is fine, but it’s the texture that haunts you. I’ve never eaten the sort of rubber mats you find in the foot-wells of cars, but I’m pretty certain they’d roam around your mouth like chicken feet do. Their reluctance to leave, and your keenness for them to do so, makes it hard to smile.
In a spirit of generous forgiveness – and because we like him so much – we invited Austin to join us at The Mayflower in Cirencester.
If you feel like showing off bits of England to Chinese friends, somewhere like The Mayflower is the place to do it. You can begin by walking your guest past Cirencester’s parish church and, as they gasp in awe, you suddenly remember how beautiful and surprising it is yourself. Then you enter the restaurant, where the staff unfailingly show the sort of courtesy that Austin demonstrates with every passing second.
We quickly pass Austin the menu so he can cleverly order for us, and we can look pityingly at the other diners who haven’t thought to bring Chinese friends. Austin just as quickly passes it back. He speaks excellent English, but these bizarre written characters are still something of a mystery to him.
So we order set menu ‘B’ for three people. I love set menus. At The Mayflower, you can order to your heart’s content from the a la carte, where you’re dazzled with choice under easy-to-understand sections: crab, fish, vegetarian mock duck, speciality duck, squid, lobster, beef, chow mein and vermicelli, to name but a few.
But how lovely to have your work done for you. Our menu comes with crispy fried shredded chicken with chilli, sesame seed prawn canapés, barbecued spare ribs, crispy fried wonton and crispy seaweed – and those are just the starters. Then comes a sizzlingly hot plate of chicken with ginger and onions (the next table’s sets off the fire alarm), crispy fried shredded beef with chilli, roast pork with stir-fried vegetables and yung chow fried rice. Austin also orders a vegetable and noodle soup with prawn crackers, for good measure, and Ian has a dry Chinese beer.
Austin isn’t easily impressed with the food served in England. He had a strange experience the night before in one of Swindon’s Italian restaurants; and his Chinese friend, Brian, is still receiving counselling after accidentally ordering a plate of fish and chips. But he lavishes praise on The Mayflower. It’s different from the Chinese food he would eat, he says, but fantastically well done.
He’s patient in coaching me in the use of chop sticks. Though, sad to say, when I’ve finished my meal, it still looks as if the waiter, on his way to feed a family of 20, tripped horribly just as he was passing me.
Even though we’re mid-week, the restaurant is bursting – a measure of its popularity. One of the parties, the waitress explains, comes unfailingly every Thursday.
We can’t manage dessert, though Austin is delighted to be served tea, included in our menu. He plumps for English over Chinese, which surprises me. He’s suffering from tea withdrawal symptoms after ordering a ‘large tea’ at a café earlier today and, to his surprise, being given a coffee. When he politely queried it, the woman replied, ‘Well you asked for a latte, didn’t you?’
Austin tells me that ‘thank you’ in Mandarin is Xie Xie (pronounced ‘she-she’). At The Mayflower, I guess, I should be saying it in Cantonese. But whichever, the sentiment is the same.
This restaurant, which has an older established sister in Cheltenham, is listed in the top guides, and deservedly so. It’s a first class experience. Even Austin thought so, and that’s saying something.

The Mayflower Restaurant is at 29 Sheep Street, Cirencester, tel: 01285 642777 and at 32-34 Clarence Street, Cheltenham, tel: 01242 522426.