Oh yes, pictures are included.
I tend to think that you can get a lot out of a culture by looking into the qualities of their food. People tend to put a lot of soul in their food, and hence, have qualities that mirror the people, or at least what they aspire to be. Also relates strongly to the available ingredients, and thus, what kinds of flavors they have to work with, showing the cyclical nature of culture on the landscape and landscape on the culture. Food from the southwest? Fiery, powerful, not afraid to make you cry. Food from San Fransisco? A bit quirky, no real established rules, definitely fun. New York? Eh. That's a tough one.
And you can't really apply this to the uppity food and the chain restaurants. What do the regulars eat? What flavors will the majority of the population identify with?
I tried this with Hong Kong this weekend.
Keep in mind the things I've already tried up to this point: jellyfish tentacles, octopus, assorted sea critters, fish eyes, chicken butt, seaweed, and a lot of tofu-like things. Definitely getting a palette for this whether I like it or not.
First, the street food, especially the desserts and the street vendor fare.
On Saturday, we headed out to Mong Kok for some random sightseeing/people watching/shopping and whatnot. The region will get its own post soon. But here, here is where you can find where most of the Hong Kong population, brand conscious, but not necessarily able to afford the high end stuff on Causeway Bay or by Tsim Sha Tsui, shop. Literally, an entire block-long street, both sides, are dedicated to selling sneakers. Nike, Adidas, whatever. All kinds are sold. Each possibly illegal. But who cares.
The point is, with such a large gathering of people here, food vendors must also make stops, as well as small, somewhat affordable restaurants. First, a stand.
Hey, it's fresh, okay.
There were probably some mushrooms in it, maybe, as well. I don't really know. But the sauces, one vaguely resembling a soy sauce or a fish sauce, and the other a pepper sauce of some kind, really drove the dish to perfection. At about $1.25 in US dollars, it was a great snack.
On to dinner, which was a restaurant located off of some alley. A local pointed us there (Ainhi, from Penn State, can speak Cantonese, so we get pointers where possible). This place specialized in a special kind of dish where they take a meat and some veggies, put it in a clay or ceramic pot with rice, and steam the bajeezus out of it with open flames. In doing so, the meat cooks, the veggies steam, and the rice cooks (and burns at the edges of the pot), giving everything a bit of a smoky flavor. Unfortunately, it was called a "hotpot", meaning that the translation was a bit off. Oh well. Pictures.
And the eel! It was so interesting. The meat was very mild, and quickly seized up any soy sauce you put on it, but when you took a bit, it was a curious experience, because it wouldn't chew... There was a bone in the way. Apparently, eels have bones.
Shut up, science majors.
My duck was outstanding as well. Also chopped with the bone in, I could pick around and get some really choice bites of amazing flavor. It was crispy at parts, with great meat inside, still tender. Very salty compared to the other dishes, and the soy sauce exacerbated that fact. Loved every bite I could muster, until only the matted remains of rice burnt to the pot were intact.
And that was essentially that day. Another small remark: a famous vending dessert here is actually the crepe, both with savory and sweet fillings. Being the American I am, I gorged myself with a sweet offering.
For the record, it included the following: banana, whipped cream, vanilla ice cream, cheesecake, and chocolate sauce. How amazing. Gave me some stomach pains later, but totally worth it at the time.
--------------------
Next day. Sunday. Sunday was a special day. Today would be the day I lose my Michelin Star virginity. What this means is that I was going to get dim sum, a special Hong Kong brunch, at an internationally acclaimed restaurant, meriting it a heralded Michelin star rating. The best of the best of the best can only get one. We're talking upper ninety-ninth percentile of all restaurants on Earth.
This restaurant was special, though. The Tim Ho Wan restaurant (Google it to get more accolades), known for its waits as much as its fare, is known as the cheapest restaurant to ever receive a Michelin Star. Considering that the top of the top in American cuisine all vie to get one with the most upscale, expensive gastro-hybrids of fancy and experimental cuisine, for a little shop in nowhere, Hong Kong (Mong Kok East, to be exact) is saying a LOT.
But it meant that we would have to wait. So we went there for 11:30. Big mistake. Line already could have gone down a block and a half if the nearby stores hadn't already threatened to call the cops for blocking business. But we got our number: 69.
They just called 24. The place had been open for two hours now.
This could be a problem.
The irritable hostess told us in fragmented English to go shopping or something, so long as we weren't there. So we did.
To cure my breakfast hunger, with realization that we wouldn't be seated for a while, I invested in my new all-time favorite dessert: dan tat. I found my new dessert obsession: it's can "dan tat". Roughly, it's an egg cream tart... But it is so sweet, so delicate, so flaky like a biscuit at the crust, so perfectly sweet but not too sweet... That I've had too many since coming here. The egg is there, but doesn't taste like it, and the center is like a custard, almost. And served warm from the local bakers... the center just melts in your mouth, and you get to do the happy dance. Simply outstanding. Might be my new favorite dessert ever. Recipes already stored.
For snacks and treats on the go, the place to go in Hong Kong is a bakery or cake shop, where desserts are always ready, or perhaps a savory roll with a filling like preserved pork and vegetables or cheese and hot dog... But also, these tasty little treats everywhere. Bakeries are ubiquitous... I like that idea. So we headed back.
59. For another hour, we waited. In fact, we were almost forgotten because so many parties of 2 had already passed us. It reached into the 80s for parties of 2. Our party of 5 had to suffer the consequences.
And finally, the magic number was called. Which meant that they took our order and we waited for the next group to pay their bill and leave. This place seated maybe 40. Maybe.
Then, 3 hours after putting our number in, we were pushed from the rowdy crowds, all grappling to their numbers like lottery tickets, to be swept into the aromas pulsating with every sweep of the door opening. It was a veritable oasis.
We crammed into a tiny booth for 4 in America. There's been worse.
And then nearly immediately, we were given tea and then a surge of waiters began to hand us baskets of food. Oh, literally, by the way.
First these shrimp dumplings. Then spring rolls, pork something, barbecued pork buns (THE BEST IN THE WORLD, seen in my hand in the picture), steamed vegetable dumplings, meat balls, chicken's feet, other buns, sponge cake (to die for), shrimp and pork dumplings, rice-dumpling with pork and vegetables... Everything.
Literally was full then.
Oh wait. We ordered two sets.
So then wave two began. All of the same stuff, served steaming hot, in small recepticles, 3 at a time. We fought the wave, consuming it as if we hadn't eaten in weeks. And eventually, the waves subsided. Less and less waiters.
We apparently ordered enough for 8 or 9 people here. Whoops.
We sat there, basking in the eternal happiness of food coma, all of a sudden realizing that the 3 hour wait was so worth it. I even had chicken feet. Cooked so that the small amount of meat literally fell off of the bone when you grabbed it with your chopsticks, in the most perfectly balanced glaze of a sweet sauce ever. It was perfect.
And we hadn't even had dessert yet. In fact, we still had a serving of sticky fried rice (again, amazing... Chinese food is forever soiled because of this) to go. We consumed it slowly. It was all we could do.
About to wave the white flag, dessert was brought. Two dishes. One was a pumpkin and cinnamon soup. Best bite of food I had, by far. Not too sweet, not too heavy... I could eat it forever. I don't even like pumpkin. It was that good. And then the other one was like a gelatin... But within it, there were lotus flowers, and some berry I had never heard of. I was about to eat a flower for dessert. Cautious? As always, I tried it. The taste reminded me of a spring morning. Minus the hay fever. But still. I had never imagined that a flower taste would be appealing. But I was wrong.
We sat there, dazed. We just ate two or three meals' worth in 45 minutes. We had won. It was all worth it.
Michelin star quality? Yes. Michelin star bill for about 20something dishes? Not at all.
For the equivalent of about US$10 each, we had the dim sum of our lives. It was so worth the wait. So worth the company.
On the way back, we looked around at the Tai Po Market, which was a poorer suburban (ha, yeah right) district, close to University Station. There, I had more dan tat, but also bought grapes from one of the fruit markets. Open air, sampling as you please, maybe a bargain or two, but definitely delicious food. The entire experience in that town was, in a word, authentic. No glitz, no billboards... Just real people trying to really get by and sell goods to their neighbors. We helped, as always.
And our trip ended there. The foodie's weekend had passed. I still have one more adventure about visiting a Buddhist temple with some surprise guests, but needless to say, my stomach got a lot of characteristics... Based on the food characteristic measurement, the Hong Kong people are efficient (even the pork livers were served in the Michelin restaurant - not my favorite thing in the world), fresh, diverse in the tastes that they like, yet centric to the family, as every dish is meant to be shared, helped through by chopsticks.
A meal can always say plenty.
No comments:
Post a Comment