For years this has been something close to the default name for Uyghur cooking in Sydney, a Central Asian kitchen where the grill does much of the talking. Skewers of lamb come cumin-dusted and charred at the edges, moist with a pleasant chew, while whole racks of lamb ribs carry the same smoke and spice. The other half of the menu is built on dough: hand-pulled laghman noodles, springy and chewy, tossed with peppers and tomato, and the communal sprawl of dapanji, the big plate of chicken, potato and wide noodles meant to be worked through by a table. It is food that sits at the meeting point of western China and the steppe, warmly spiced rather than fiery, generous by design. The room is homely and unfussy, the kind of place that runs first-come, first-served and takes its bookings by message rather than through any polished system. Being a halal, Muslim-run kitchen, there is no alcohol, though diners are welcome to bring their own. Portions are large and the value is real. For anyone curious about a cuisine still under-represented across the city, this remains the steady, reliable introduction, and for many the benchmark others are measured against.