You've probably seen the videos. Someone pulls apart a steaming bun, the custard oozes out just right, and suddenly every food influencer in Brooklyn is claiming they've found the "best" spot in the city. Usually, it's a letdown. But Sheng Hui Dim Sum is different. It’s one of those rare places where the reality of the food actually matches the filtered photos on your feed.
Located in the heart of Brooklyn's bustling 8th Avenue Chinatown—the "real" Chinatown for those in the know—Sheng Hui isn't trying to be fancy. It's a no-frills, high-volume operation. If you’re looking for white tablecloths and a quiet ambiance, you’re in the wrong place. This is loud. It’s chaotic. It’s exactly what dim sum should be.
The staff moves with a frantic sort of grace. You see them weaving between tables with trays of har gow and chicken feet, shouting out orders over the din of families catching up on a Sunday morning. It’s a sensory overload. Honestly, if you aren't prepared for the pace, it can be a bit much. But that energy is part of the secret sauce. High turnover means the food doesn’t sit around. Everything is fresh.
What Most People Get Wrong About Ordering at Sheng Hui Dim Sum
Most newcomers make the same mistake. They wait for the carts. While Sheng Hui does have cart service, especially during peak weekend hours, the real pros know to look at the paper menu first.
Why? Because the best stuff often sells out before the cart even makes a full lap of the dining room.
Take the Baked Roast Pork Buns (Char Siu Bao). At many spots, these are doughy, heavy, and frankly, a bit of a slog to eat. At Sheng Hui, the topping has that distinct "pineapple bun" crust—crumbly, sweet, and buttery—that shatters when you bite into it. The pork inside isn't just red-dyed mystery meat. It’s chunks of actual roasted shoulder in a sauce that isn't cloyingly sweet.
Then there are the Rice Noodle Rolls (Cheong Fun).
If they're gummy, they're garbage. That’s a rule.
Sheng Hui manages to keep theirs thin and translucent. You can see the pink of the shrimp or the green of the scallions through the skin. They douse it in a sweetened soy sauce that ties the whole thing together. It’s simple. It’s classic. It’s incredibly hard to get right when you’re serving hundreds of people an hour, yet they do it.
The Science of the Soup Dumpling (Xiao Long Bao)
Let’s talk about the XLB. Everyone wants to talk about soup dumplings.
At Sheng Hui Dim Sum, the soup dumplings are a point of contention among regulars. Some say they aren't as delicate as the ones you’d find at a specialized Shanghai house like Joe’s Ginger or Din Tai Fung. They’re right, sort of. The skins here are slightly thicker.
But here’s the thing: in a high-volume dim sum environment, a thicker skin is a feature, not a bug. It prevents the dumpling from breaking the moment the chopsticks touch it. There is nothing worse than losing all your soup to the bottom of the steamer basket. The broth inside is rich, fatty, and hits you with a punch of ginger that cuts through the pork fat. It’s soulful food.
Navigating the 8th Avenue Chaos
If you're heading to 8th Avenue in Sunset Park, you need a game plan.
Parking is a nightmare. Don't even try. Take the N or Q train to 8th Ave and walk. You'll walk past fruit stalls, fish markets, and herbalists. It’s an experience. When you get to Sheng Hui, there will likely be a crowd outside.
✨ Don't miss: 10 day weather forecast chester cheshire: What Most People Get Wrong
- Push through to the front.
- Get a number.
- Stay close.
If they call your number and you’re down the street looking at dragon fruit, they will skip you. No mercy.
The price point is another reason this place stays packed. In an era where a "trendy" dim sum brunch in Manhattan can easily run you $60 per person, Sheng Hui remains stubbornly affordable. You can feast like a king—shumai, tripe, turnip cakes, the works—and still walk out with change from a twenty if you’re sharing with a group.
Beyond the Basics: The Dishes You’re Ignoring
Everyone gets the shrimp dumplings. Try something else.
The Chicken Feet (Phoenix Claws) at Sheng Hui are fermented with black beans and have a deep, savory funk that is addictive once you get past the texture. If you’re squeamish, I get it. But you’re missing out on some of the best collagen-rich sauce in the game.
Also, look for the Fried Taro Dumplings. They look like little birds' nests. The exterior is lacy and crisp, while the interior is a creamy, earthy taro mash with savory pork. It’s a texture play that most Western fried foods can’t touch.
Why Authenticity Isn't Just a Buzzword Here
"Authentic" is a word that gets thrown around until it loses all meaning. In the context of Sheng Hui Dim Sum, it basically means they aren't catering to a Western palate.
They aren't toning down the flavors or softening the textures. You will find gristle. You will find bones. You will find bold, unapologetic seasoning. This is food made for the local community that just happens to be so good that people are traveling from across the city to eat it.
There’s a nuance to the way they handle their seafood, too. The Stuffed Eggplant with Shrimp Paste is a masterclass in balance. The eggplant is soft but not mushy, and the shrimp paste has a "snap" to it that indicates fresh ingredients and proper hand-mincing rather than a food processor slurry.
The Tea Culture
Don't ignore the tea. It’s not just a beverage; it’s a palate cleanser.
When the server pours your first cup, you’ll notice the older diners tapping two fingers on the table. It’s a silent "thank you." It’s a tradition that dates back to the Qing Dynasty. Using these little cultural cues makes the experience feel less like a transaction and more like a participation in a long-standing ritual.
If your teapot runs dry, don’t wave your arms like you’re flagging down a taxi. Just flip the lid over or leave it propped open. The servers know the signal. They’ll be over with a kettle of boiling water faster than you can say "jasmine."
The Reality of the Experience
Is it perfect? No.
Sometimes the service is curt. Sometimes you’ll be seated at a large round table with strangers. You might have to wait 45 minutes on a Sunday.
But that’s the deal.
You’re trading the comforts of a sanitized, corporate restaurant for the soul of a community hub. The floors might be a little slick. The noise level might give you a headache. But then that plate of Salt and Pepper Squid arrives—piping hot, perfectly seasoned, and impossibly tender—and none of that matters anymore.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
To get the most out of your trip to Sheng Hui, follow this checklist:
💡 You might also like: Why blue eyes on ordinary people aren't actually blue
- Go Early or Late: Peak hours are 10:30 AM to 1:30 PM. If you show up at 9:00 AM, you’ll breeze in. If you go at 2:00 PM, the selection might be thinner, but the vibe is much more relaxed.
- Bring Cash: While many places are moving toward cards, cash is still king in Sunset Park. It makes splitting the bill with friends infinitely easier and sometimes helps speed up the checkout process.
- Order the Specials: Look at the walls. Often, there are handwritten signs (usually in Chinese, but you can use a translation app) for seasonal dishes or daily specials that aren't on the main menu.
- Check the "Big Three": A dim sum house is judged by its Har Gow (Shrimp Dumpling), Shumai (Pork/Shrimp Dumpling), and Char Siu Bao. If a place nails these three, the rest of the menu is usually solid. Sheng Hui consistently hits the mark on all three.
- Don't Be Shy: If you see something interesting on a passing cart, point to it. Ask what it is. The best way to discover new favorites is to be adventurous.
Sheng Hui Dim Sum represents a slice of New York that is rapidly disappearing. It's unpretentious, high-quality, and deeply rooted in its neighborhood. Whether you're a dim sum veteran or a first-timer, it offers a benchmark for what this cuisine should be: fresh, fast, and incredibly satisfying. Pack your patience, bring your appetite, and get ready for one of the best meals in Brooklyn.