‘Outrageously juicy’: Lamb skewers are non-negotiable at inner-east Uyghur eatery Nur

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It was probably inevitable. As one of five brothers, with a dad who runs Melbourne’s oldest Uyghur restaurant, a mum who everyone agrees is the best cook in the family (maybe the world), and a childhood spent making noodles from scratch, Rifat Nur was always likely to fall into restaurants. A year and a half ago, he opened Nur, a place that brings the family name and all the flavour that goes with it to Melbourne’s inner east.

Nur is a lovely little restaurant, driven by a passion to carry on the proud legacy brought from Urumqi in north-western China’s Xinjiang province, home to the Uyghur ethnic group.

Rif’s mum Reyhan took care of the decor for the 40-seat eatery, sourcing embroidered tablecloths (and protecting them with sensible plastic covers), displaying a collection of doppa (Uyghur skullcaps) and pinning up a joyful tapestry depicting traditional musicians.

Uyghurs are mostly Muslim and this restaurant is halal, though BYO alcohol is permitted. Ordering is cute: you write down dish numbers on a sheet of paper to pass to your waiter.

Rifat’s father Halil has run Anayurt in Springvale for two decades, expanding the menu over time to include many Chinese regional specialties. His son’s menu at Nur is more concise and focused, homing in on the noodles, bread and kebabs that are key to the family’s cuisine. It’s a good way to go, I reckon, steering people to dishes that may be less familiar and giving them a good chance of falling in love with bouncy hand-pulled noodles, fresh-baked pies, crisp salads, and extraordinarily tender lamb skewers.

Unless you’re vegetarian, the skewers are non-negotiable. Lamb shoulder pieces are marinated in raw onion overnight, cooked over charcoal and seasoned with cumin. They’re outrageously – almost unbelievably – juicy.

Good vego dishes include a simple but surprisingly beguiling chopped salad with a light, bright vinegar dressing. The fried eggplant with onion and capsicum is another fine example of turning basic ingredients into sublime dishes.

Rifat won’t start making your noodles until he receives your order. At that time, he takes a hunk of basic flour, water and oil dough and starts pulling and stretching, pulling and stretching, turning a squidgy mound into marvellous arm-length squiggles.

“My dad always says cooking is like a dance,” Rif told me. “Stretching the noodles is a flow, a form of art.” While the noodles are cooking, he makes the sauce. The classic lagmen (a stir fry) is a tumble of onion, capsicum, lamb pieces and black fungus with a smidge of tomato and soy.

It’s usual to enthusiastically slurp your noodles – I have the splats on my shirt as a souvenir – but you can ask for scissors to snip them into manageable lengths. No matter how you eat them, they’re thick, hearty and bold, with a curl and snap that is testament to the dough.

Maybe you’re feeling bread rather than pasta: crisp naan is stuffed with lamb and onion, and there’s cosy, comforting samsa, which sees soft dough encasing meaty filling.

And just in case you thought there were no other ways to combine lamb and dough, there’s a naan toss, which sees fillet and flatbread stir-fried together until crisp.

Nur’s thick yoghurt drink partners beautifully with any of the lamb dishes, and there’s sweet milky tea served in charming, sturdy pots.

Nur is running as usual through Ramadan, which starts on the evening of February 17 when the moon is sighted, and continues for the lunar cycle. It’s the holiest month for observant Muslims, who abstain from food and drink between sunrise and sunset. At night, gathering with family and friends for fast-breaking tends to be festive and communal, a time of gratitude and celebration. You could do a lot worse than mark the moment with springy noodles.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.