Jiang's Kitchen
Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

Eric Jiang appears to be toeing the line between dynamic chef and unhinged restaurateur. Since moving to Orlando from Syracuse, the man opened Sushi Izuki, a star-chasing omakase joint in O-Town West last summer, and then, a couple of months ago, his downtown dumpling spot Jiang’s Kitchen. But he and his wife, Miaozhen Zhang, will also open Fan Hwa, a tong sui (dessert soup) and bao house, on North Mills Avenue next month, followed by another Jiang’s Kitchen on Millenia Plaza Way in December and a noodle-focused Jiang’s Kitchen on East Colonial Drive in January. There’s another Jiang’s Kitchen being planned for the Fairbanks Crossing development in Winter Park and two more in upstate New York and, oh, did I mention he’s developing a Japanese live-eel restaurant centered around charcoal grilling?

No, I didn’t, but point is, it’s easy to see why he and his better half have been running on fumes of late. 

“We got two hours of sleep for a couple of weeks when we opened Jiang’s,” he says about their wabi-sabi’ed wrapper’s delight of a restaurant. When I see the pair for the first time, they’re inside a glowing glass box rolling out dough, scooping in the fillings, folding and pinching 18-20 creases into every flawlessly constructed, 31-gram, chicken-broth soup dumpling. And perfect they are. The skins are as smooth as a Buddhist monk’s bald head, only considerably more delicious (just trust me on that one). That gelatinized, three-hour broth renders clean when slurped from a pierced pearly pocket filled with beef ($14), crabmeat and pork ($14), or truffle and pork ($16), the undeniable star of Jiang’s soup dumpling affair and the one that most closely mimicked the inviolable pouches served at the globally lauded Din Tai Fung.

Jiang's Kitchen
Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

In the shrimp and corn ($14) xiaolongbao, the broth felt about a hundred degrees hotter than the others. A niblet positioned atop the crown of the dumpling served a purpose other than looks — it locked in the heat, resulting in a liquid that left my wife’s scorched tongue searching for the nearest ice cube to make out with. Slurp with caution.

But about that caution, just throw it to the wind when ordering any of the soup-less dumplings, and that includes such unsung choices as pan-fried chicken and cheese dumplings ($10.50), an unexpected fave of ours, and meatless steamed dumplings ($10.50) that, well, sang. Stuffed into those spinach-dyed, crescent-shaped pockets: a perfect orchestration of carrots, shiitake, cabbage and bok choy.

Incidentally, the recipes for Jiang’s offerings are all under the direction of his wife. “She’s the brains behind it all,” he says about Miaozhen when the pair emerge from their viewing cube looking none the worse for wear. Her menu, for the most part, slaps and slaps hard in the case of the cucumber salad ($8). On one visit, the liberal use of Sichuan peppercorns and house-made chili oil elicited an equine bray from the dining pal. No doubt, this is one of the more nostril-flaring preparations you’ll find in the city. Poofy buns ($9.50), cuddling superbly crisp chicken glazed in a house-made spicy mayo, were another unexpected hit.

Jiang's Kitchen
Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

Not that everything wowed — beef pancake rolls ($12) packed plenty of flavor, particularly the scallion wrap, but serving it at room temperature tempered the comforting aspects. In the braised beef noodle soup ($16), another Taiwanese specialty, the broth lacked the characteristic complexity and nuance that comes from a stock rich with sweet, herbaceous and spicy notes. Another server-touted item — crispy rock shrimp ($12) — gave Nobu vibes, but they were so battered and slicked that the crustacean’s subtle, lobster-like flavor was all but lost. It could’ve been chicken and we’d have been none the wiser. 

Sushi rolls carry high profit margins, so I understand their inclusion on Jiang’s menu. But am I filling up on volcano rolls ($12) at the expense of eating even more dumplings? Or, perhaps, capping things off with a delightful yuzu cheesecake ($10)? No. No, I’m not.

Jiang's Kitchen
Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

But credit to Jiang and Zhang. The husband-and-wife duo have powered through the city’s restaurant grid like a couple of dynamos since coming on the scene last year. They’re running on sleep-deprived ambition, but one thing’s for sure — their dumplings never look tired.

Jiang’s Kitchen, 27 E. Robinson St., 407-203-4107, jiangskitchen.com.



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Orlando restaurant critic. Orlando Weekly restaurant critic since 2006.