The market for dim sum here is one that’s been relatively stable year after year. Every Chinese family has its favorite handful of restaurants for weekend gatherings, and every once in a while, a new restaurant opens to keep the scene a little interesting.

With budget spots firmly established, the newbies — such as Morimoto Asia and Yauatcha — tend to offer more upscale ambience. Tim Ho Wan has now opened, angling for a sweet spot in between, offering finer quality than what you’d typically find in Chinatown, at mid-tier cost.

I was told by a newscaster from China that in Hong Kong, where Tim Ho Wan originated, the food is considered so good that people are willing to wait in lines for two or three hours for a bite. I find that hard to imagine in a place with hundreds of banquet-size dim-sum restaurants. With so many to choose from, I would never stand in line for any particular restaurant, but this little story just conveys diners’ regard for the chain.

It all goes back to the restaurant’s co-founders, Leung Fai Keung and Mak Kwai Pui. Pui was the chef at Lung King Heen, a Michelin three-star restaurant, and at Four Seasons Hotel Hong Kong. When they met, Keung was the chef at a luxury dim-sum restaurant. Listening to criticism that the Michelin system appeared elitist in emphasizing high-end restaurants, the chefs wanted to make the point that they could bring inexpensive, Michelin star-worthy cuisine to the masses.

Mission accomplished. In 2010, a year after opening in Hong Kong’s Mong Kok neighborhood, Tim Ho Wan earned a single Michelin star, giving it status as the “World’s Most Inexpensive Michelin-Starred Restaurant,” a designation that has fueled its expansion around the globe.

The Waikiki restaurant occupies a space in the middle of Royal Hawaiian Center. The bright, clean facility, with indoor and outdoor seating, is well-suited to those who don’t care for the atmosphere of Chinatown.

THE LOCAL operation is not quite the budget establishment it is in China. Most dishes are about $5, $2 more than in Chinatown. On top of that, the dim sum is so light and more Hong Kong-size than American super-sized, so I felt as though I could just inhale them.

You may find yourself ordering more than you normally would. For instance, I normally eat only one siu mai when dining in Chinatown. Here, a friend and I ordered one round of four, and found them so delicate and delicious that we ordered a second round, polishing off four pieces each.

Given the small kitchen, offerings are minimal, but I think they’ve managed to home in on a few of the most popular. These basics include har gow (shrimp dumplings, $5.25), pork-and-shrimp siu mai ($5.25), shrimp-and-chive dumplings ($5), steamed beef balls ($5), bean curd rolls ($4.75) and braised chicken feet ($4.50).

Dumplings are densely packed in wrappers noticeably thinner than most around town, delivering the desired see-through effect.

This far from home, the main concern will be consistency. All was wonderful upon opening, with the founding chefs in town. But a few days later, wrappers were already becoming thicker, and stickier from over-steaming. Oh well, even when not perfect, the dumplings are delicious, the fillings noticeably fresh.

Siu mai is impressively filled with chunky pork and generous quantities of diced shrimp. The only problem is in the random mix of ingredients. Because of the large dice, instead of the usual ground meat, you get the luck of the draw. On one occasion we marveled at the abundance of shrimp in the siu mai. It was so good that we ordered that second batch, which was mostly pork.

Either is fine with me, but some people have a preference for a more common ratio of 80 percent pork to 20 percent shrimp. Creating that balance would require getting the kitchen staff to pay more attention to the filling as it goes into the wrapper. Each siu mai is capped with a sweet goji berry.

BEYOND DUMPLINGS, I suspect that a lot of local people — those raised on dishes full of salt, shoyu and fat — will find the rest of the food here underseasoned.

This includes single-serving rice bowls of steamed chicken ($5.25); pork spareribs and chicken feet ($5.25); and a loco moco- style dish of rice with minced, steamed beef ($5.25) that’s topped with a fried egg. If you’re not familiar with Chinese minced beef, you may be averse to the jellylike consistency that’s more like fishcake than hamburger, without much of the beef essence Americans expect.

I appreciate the clean flavors, but many will find themselves reaching for the soy sauce. Also available on the table is chili sauce, but just as with most contemporary Chinese restaurants, you won’t find that old-fashioned staple of Chinese mustard.

I didn’t mind the clean pork and beef, but thought the pan-fried noodles ($5.75) were underwhelming and needed a dash of soy sauce.

Deep-fried dishes include a spring roll filled with delicate egg white and shrimp ($5.75) and mochi-style jin dui with a wonderful filling of sweet pork and dried shrimp ($4.75).

But the dish everyone comes for is Tim Ho Wan’s signature baked barbecued pork buns ($5.75). I have an aversion to bad carbs, so when I looked at that bread on an already full stomach, I didn’t want to eat it, imagining the stiff, thick, dry bread so common here.

But it was a marvel of barely-there pastry, with a crisp “snow mountain” baked sugar crust. It crackles and disappears like a cloud, revealing the sweet pork filling inside. I’ve noticed that it’s the food of choice for employees on break.

For dessert, there’s a sweet jelly made from the osmanthus flower, filled with pieces of goji berry ($4.50), and black-rice mochi with a center of pineapple ($5), exclusive to the Hawaii market.

A few more dishes are to come, and I’m eager to go back once they are able to introduce look funn rolls, a necessity for any dim-sum house.

Nadine Kam’s restaurant reviews are conducted anonymously and paid for by the Star-Advertiser. Reach her at nkam@staradvertiser.com.