
In our first-ever interview conducted fully in Cantonese, Chef Zeng Yue takes us through his three-decade journey mastering the intricate art of dim sum. From technique to tradition, he reveals what truly sets Cantonese dim sum apart from the rest—and why he’s still obsessed with it after all these years.
We’ll admit it—we walked into our first-ever Cantonese-language interview with a mix of excitement and the kind of nerves you get right before biting into a scalding-hot siu mai. But just a few minutes with Chef Zeng Yue of Shangri-La Shenzhen, and any lingering jitters melted away like steam rising from a bamboo basket.

Speaking in the language of dim sum’s birthplace felt like the truest way to dive into the roots of this centuries-old craft. And with more than 30 years in the kitchen, Chef Zeng Yue was ready to pull back the curtain—not just on technique, but on philosophy, patience, and the quiet poetry behind every pleat and fold.
What followed was a heartwarming, humbling conversation about tradition, innovation, and why dim sum is never just a snack.
What drew me in was the charm behind the tradition of “one pot of tea and two dim sum dishes.” That everyday warmth and community spirit captured in this simple ritual truly fascinated me.
In my younger years, I focused on techniques. Thin wrappers, large fillings, and perfect shapes. Over the time, I have come to realise that dim sum is really an art of time. The time for the dough to rise, the time spent mixing and pounding the filling until it’s just right and the years of experience that slowly builds up in a chef’s hand.
It’s a balance between tradition and creativity. Tradition is my root. It gives me a strong foundation. But times are changing, and so are the tastes of younger diners. Hearing their surprised delight when they try a new flavour or finding inspiration from other cuisines or even nature itself, reminds me that this craft is alive. There’s always something new to learn and new heights to reach.

It’s about “having a craftsman’s heart that can endure the quiet and repetition.” Making dim sum is detailed and repetitive work that starts during midnight. There are no spotlights, only steam rising and the heat of the kitchen. That’s why patience, care, and a bit of obsession with perfection are the foundation of the craft. A good chef also needs a sharp sense of “taste”, to catch even the tiniest changes in flavour and an open mind to accept new ideas and keep creating.
Refined and detailed, Cantonese dim sum places great importance on presentation and it should look, smell, and taste beautiful. The ingredients take centre stage, with clean, balanced flavours that let the natural taste and texture of shrimp, scallops, vegetables, and more shine through. The craft spans countless techniques like steaming, pan-frying, deep-frying, and baking, especially when working with delicate doughs. And, of course, dim sum is inseparable from tea culture: a yum cha tradition that is as much about social connection as it is about the food, whether you prefer it calm and leisurely or lively and bustling.
That really shows how adaptable Cantonese dim sum is. Shenzhen is close to Hong Kong, and it keeps the classic Cantonese taste but also embraces creativity and fusion. The pace is fast, new-style dim sum appears all the time, and the ingredients are more international and health-focused.
In Kuala Lumpur, dim sum is influenced by Southeast Asian culture, and the flavours are bolder and stronger. You might find local spices added or unique dipping sauces with more sweetness, spices or sourness, creating a distinctive ‘Nanyang-style Cantonese dim sum.’

It all comes down to the feel of it in your hands and experience. Recipes are fixed, but the ingredients change slightly everyday (the moisture in the flour and the water content in the shrimp). We rely on our eyes to judge the dough’s sheen, our hands to feel its elasticity, and our ears to listen to the sound of frying. This balance cannot be measured by weight alone; it is the result of years of practice and experience.
‘Har Gao’, known as shrimp dumpling. It is known as the leader of the ‘Four Heavenly Kings’ of dim sum, they are the ultimate test of a chef’s skill. While it may look simple to create the perfect shrimp dumpling, thin yet resilient skin with over thirteen delicate pleats and a plump, juicy filling requires mastery of dough, filling, hand technique, and heat control. It was the starting point of my career and remains a daily challenge I must face.
My guiding principle is: “Rooted in tradition, branches free to innovate.” Core remains unchanged: Traditional techniques, flavour philosophy, and respect for ingredients are the “roots” that cannot be compromised. Form can evolve: In fillings, I experiment with premium ingredients like black truffle or cheese. In presentation, I borrow Western plating techniques, such as using passion fruit for visual appeal. Innovation doesn’t mean overturning tradition; it’s about making it shine in a modern context.

Precision through standards: Clear, executable operating procedures, reinforced through repeated training and supervision. Timing through communication: Like a conductor, I keep my eyes and ears open, using brief commands and subtle cues to coordinate steaming, frying, and pan-frying stations, ensuring a smooth workflow. Teamwork through culture: I foster an environment of mutual respect and support, where each team member understands that we are one unit, sharing both success and responsibility.
The biggest misconception is people often have about dim sum is “just a snack” or “easy to make”. I hope people can understand that behind every tiny dim sum dish lies years of a chef’s dedication and intricate craftsmanship. Dim sum is a refined culinary art that deserves respect. When tasting it, take a moment to appreciate the dough, the filling, the form, and the flavour. It’s the highest tribute you can give a chef.

“Honeycomb Taro Puff” (also known as Wu Kok in Cantonese). Its creation perfectly reflects my career, simple on the outside, intricate in the inside. Through complex techniques, taro paste is made into a delicate outer shell, fried to achieve an incredibly crisp, thin honeycomb structure with warm, fragrant fillings inside. It reflects the thirty years of my journey. Only through repeated practice and refinement (frying) can ordinary ingredients evolve into extraordinary layers of flavour and texture, humble on the outside, yet rich within.

Start with the basics: Clear your mind and establish solid foundations. Don’t aim too high too soon. Practice fundamental skills like dough shaping and filling preparation until they become muscle memory. Learn to taste: Cooking is not enough.
You must also develop your palate to recognise quality, so you can create excellent dishes. Stay passionate and patient: This is a long, sometimes tedious path. Only genuine love for the craft will sustain your focus and calm in the kitchen at 3 am. Respect tradition, but don’t be constrained by it. Once your fundamentals are strong, inspiration for innovation will naturally follow.






