If you've ever wondered if making bad puns is a marketable skill, the answer is yes.
Before I
left, my mother said, “It will be nice for you to have the support of your Hong
Kong colleagues over there.” Rather than
tell her the truth that I would actually have no colleagues, office, internet, or
resources, I responded with “Yes.”
But I can’t
say that I've been lonely though I have been alone. I would like to dedicate Week Stew to finding
friends in unexpected places and my love for soup evolving towards clay pot stews.
When my boss
came to visit, he asked if I’d been lonely.
I told him no because I had The Soup Man (see previous post). Besides, when I visit The Soup Man I get to
dine with some of Hong Kong’s finest and we have a lot of great conversations
about how great our table manners are in between slurping bites and spitting
bones directly onto the table.
I stumbled
upon this place in Wanchai for lunch.
There is only one man who directs the crowds. Like the sorcerer’s apprentice, he sends
groups of hungry diners to several different corners of the restaurant at
once. Note: If you order the “beef
brisket soup” and expect beef brisket, you will be disappointed when you
receive pork feet. I intentionally
ordered beef brisket for the pork feet though.
I met a very
nice man named Yossi who owns a pastry shop called 126 grammes. They specialize in choux. I chatted with him for a long time, and we
had such a good time talking that I forgot to pay for my pistachio crème and
cherry confit choux. It was
delicious. For the record, I ran back up
the hill to pay him when I realized that I’d just become a thief of 18 HKD.
This is a
pretty kitty with a merciless heart. She
nearly successfully pounced on a bird mid-flight. I could tell she was going for the kill, and
I like that about her.
My Hong Kong
obsession with food in clay pots began after a trip to Yau Mau Tei with a
friend to enjoy some 煲仔飯.
Then I remembered everything tastes better in a clay pot because it
makes and keeps your food super hot. As
in, this-food-is-only-for-looking-and-not-for-eating hot. The result is a nice crispy char on your rice
and a really happy Alexa with yet another burned tongue.
This group
of friends seemed to be having a really great time. They kept yelling “Squid!” in Mandarin and
laughing. I didn’t really understand the
punch line, but I went ahead and laughed with them.
This taxi
made fun of me when I said “I want to go here” in Mandarin and then handed him
an address card. He said, “No! Read
it!” It felt a lot like I was in Chinese
school again, especially when I filled in the words I didn’t know with
“something, something” and he finished the phrase for me. Then he made me practice saying numbers in
Cantonese when we got to the apartments.
This taxi was the nicest taxi I’d ever met. I needed to visit a storage warehouse far away in Kai Chung, and when he wasn’t exactly sure how to get there he called the number and asked for directions. He told me how he believed Taiwanese people have the best-sounding Mandarin, how people from the PRC are rude, and how impressed he was that my Chinese didn’t even have an accent. He was probably flattering me for extra tips, but I didn’t fall for it. I believe in China thriftiness even if this is a Special Administrative Region.
I met some
relatives I didn’t know I had. The
little one got restless at lunch and went outside with their nanny. He returned with an entire bunch of balloons
and a huge smile. Watch the video to see what the older one named me. I think I’ll officially adopt this name when I have the chance.
Here, the
little one is concentrating on pooping.
I was shaky-hungry one day and decided to try a place I’d read about. I ordered laksa, a vegetable, and some tea. I was served laksa, a vegetable, and some very medicinal-smelling herbal bone soup. When he first put it down, I clapped and thought, “Soup!” but then I wondered out loud if I had actually ordered this. The nice girls who had just sat down at my table figured it out for me – it turns out that Mandarin for “tea” sounds a lot like “bone soup” in Cantonese. They were really hungry from just running 12K, and they also ordered a lot of food (though intentional). We decided to share our feast as new friends, and the waiter laughed at our greedy Canadian-American appetites.
This is a
clay pot stew of pork knuckles. I think
my neighbors may have been a little disgusted at how quickly I inhaled
this. I was hungry.
My cousin I’d
never met invited me to hike with her and some friends. We went out to the new territories to Yuen
Long, a place I could never figure out how to get to on my own. Her friends also ordered a feast of dim sum
for us followed by many tasty and local desserts.
For my last
Hong Kong dinner, I chose one more fish ball clay pot stew. It was awesome.
This is
Kitty Ting Ting and Sweet Sweet the Rabbit.
They love to talk about pockets.
I learned a lot about friendship and self-worth from reading this
book. Thanks for the life lesson, Tin
Hau library!
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