Articles about HONG KONG dim sum

Hong Kong

As we climbed the stairs to the first floor of the Lei Garden dim sum restaurant in Mongkok, on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong, the sights and sounds of the lunch hour seemed to coalesce. There was the noise of the customers; the orders the waitresses passed to the kitchen; the clatter of bowls and chopsticks. And dressed entirely in white other than her black waterproof boots, one woman was keeping the whole enterprise going by taking care of the vast dishwashing challenge that a dim sum restaurant poses.

This business has been famous for its dim sum for over 20 years. At this branch we ate in a small private dining room for seven, with the best view in town of the local Water Supplies Department, and its sign proudly proclaiming "Water Tanks Cleaned Every Three Months". Around the table sat two British wine merchants who had relocated from London's St James's to Hong Kong, two American-educated bond traders, and an old Chinese friend, whom we immediately entrusted with ordering the food.

No sooner had she done so than she gave us a lesson in the etiquette for enjoying what was to follow. The dark chopsticks on the outside were for serving oneself and others; the pale pair on the inside were for eating with. There would be a series of hot and spicy sauces to accompany the dim sum - but no soy sauce. "So western," she said, with obvious disdain.

At which point, one of the wine merchants said something that I thought could have had him dismissed from the table. He opined that, while he was enjoying Chinese food in Hong Kong, nothing he had so far eaten had touched the heights of the very best Japanese food in Tokyo. Fortunately, the possibility of a diplomatic incident was averted by the arrival of several waitresses with the first wave of dim sum.

Over this meal, and an excellent Cantonese dinner later that day at Celebrity Cuisine on the first floor of the Lan Kwai Fong Hotel in Central district, I bore this comment in mind as I analysed not only what I ate but also how it was presented. My deliberations led me finally to disagree with his verdict.

There is admittedly one respect in which the Japanese do outshine the Chinese, and that is in the presentation of their food. If I had to dine only with my eyes I would choose Japanese food every day for its colour, the precision with which it is arranged and its overall aesthetic appeal. A plate of Japanese food brings a smile to my face even before I have tasted it.

Lei Garden's dim sum were distinguished by their thin wrapping, the freshness of the steamed dishes, particularly the char sui buns, and the clean taste of the fried dishes, but their range of colours was indeed limited. The only dish that ventured beyond a pale-to-dark-brown spectrum was the thin slices of green pepper topped with minced fish that was served alongside braised tofu with peanuts and excellent barbecued pork. After that came three clay-pot dishes of rice, topped with chicken with mushrooms, spare ribs with black beans and, our particular favourite, spicy Chinese sausage.

A similarly limited range of colours, but happily the same delicious flavours, were in evidence at Celebrity Cuisine where, despite the glamorous name, the plastic-coated menu comes with photos that do the dishes no justice. We began with the classic turnip cake with spicy sausage, which was light brown in colour, and again proceeded quickly along the spectrum to dark brown.

There was a small stuffed crab shell; then deep fried oysters with leeks; then their version of eight-treasure duck, a whole duck stuffed with chestnuts, ginko nuts, barley, lotus seeds and more, roasted and then quickly fried; and finally an unctuous rendition of pork belly with preserved vegetables that was lip-smackingly good. The bowl of almond paste and egg white to finish was light relief, certainly visually.

Over my final dinner - an excellent western meal at The Principal, recently opened - I expressed my curiosity about the apparent Chinese disinterest in the colour and presentation of food to Lingling Huang, an art curator who has lived in Beijing and Shanghai. When I asked whether it would ever change, she was adamant that it would not.

"We're very practical people," she explained, "and in this area looks do not matter for us. After all, when you are served a clay-pot dish, invariably the best bits are those at the bottom that have been closest to the flame. They may not look too attractive but they always have the best flavour." I have to agree.

WORKS CITED

Nicholas Lander.  "Hong Kong dim sum. " FT.com  23 Mar. 2012: ABI/INFORM Global, ProQuest. Web.  16 Apr. 2012.