Decide Whether You Want the Room, the Room Above, or the Room 26 Floors Down
Vicky Cheng's tasting-only room on the 29th floor of The Wellington, 26 floors above The Chairman. The question is which of the two you want.
The crispy sea cucumber spring roll arrives on the second or third pass, depending on how the kitchen has shaped the night, and it is the dish that explains Vicky Cheng's whole project in a single bite. Sea cucumber is a texture most Western diners meet as a concession — soft, glutinous, slightly medicinal. Here it is inside a spring roll shell in spring onion sauce, the shatter of the wrapper giving way to something that reads as clean protein and almost sweet. It is a Cantonese ingredient handled with French discipline, and it does what modern Chinese cooking so often only claims to do.
WING sits on the 29th floor of The Wellington, one floor below Cheng's VEA and 26 floors above The Chairman. Three of Asia's most decorated dining rooms in one lift shaft. The name means eternity — it is Cheng's Chinese given name — and the restaurant seats 38 people a night across six main-room tables and two private rooms. Tasting menu only. Ranked #3 on Asia's 50 Best in 2025 and #11 on the World's list, with the biggest year-on-year climb in the Highest Entry ranking. This is the room the industry is currently arguing about, in the building where the argument makes the most sense.
The room is quieter than its ranking, and the technique is louder than its cuisine.
Editorial Deep
Not every course lands. The lion head croaker in yellow wine sauce is the kind of dish that sits between two traditions without fully committing to either — the wine reduction reads more European than the fish wants it to, and the pairing is more interesting than it is resolved. This kitchen takes swings, and not every swing connects with every diner.
The 29th floor of The Wellington is not a floor you accidentally arrive on. The lifts move quickly, the corridor is quiet, and there is a moment at the door where nothing about the entrance suggests what is behind it. Inside, the room opens into jade and beige, the palette of a Chinese tea house rather than a fine-dining room trying to look like one. The windows on the 29th floor are dense with vegetation planted on the terrace outside — enough that the view reads as a hanging garden rather than a Central skyline, which is the more original choice.
The service is genuinely warm. Courses are introduced with the kind of specificity that only comes from staff who have eaten the food many times, and the pacing across 13-ish courses over roughly three hours is handled without a diner having to think about it. The shrimp and crab courses in particular get walked through carefully. This is service that reads the table — a couple gets a different rhythm from a four-top of regulars — rather than service that follows a script.
The fish maw rice with abalone sauce alone defends a meaningful share of the ticket. Fish maw at this concentration, finished with an abalone reduction that reads as glaze rather than sauce, is a labour-intensive dish that most Cantonese kitchens in the city no longer make with this level of care. On its own it is worth the seat.
The first visit tends to fixate on the spring roll and the fish maw rice, because those are the dishes everyone has read about. The second visit is where you order the king crab cheung fun with attention on the wrapper rather than the crab, and where you push the pairing conversation harder — the wine service here can go further than a first-time diner usually asks it to, and the kitchen's swings read differently once you know which way it is swinging.
What to eat
Don't miss.
Crispy sea cucumber spring roll; fish maw rice with abalone sauce; fragrant chilli Alaskan king crab crispy cheung fun
“Three courses land at the top of the Chinese tasting-room category in Hong Kong; the format asks you to pay for the whole arc.”
Book WING if you can plan well ahead and have a specific occasion — the spring roll, the fish maw rice and the crab cheung fun earn the seat. If the booking friction is bigger than the appetite, The Chairman 26 floors down in the same building serves à la carte Cantonese at the very top of the city.
The Verdict
