Category Archives: Food

The Pawn restaurant review – the Pawn identity

UPDATE: The Pawn has since been renovated with an entirely new menu!

So we’ve talked history, we’ve worried about heritage and we’ve waxed lyrical about the views – but what about the restaurant itself? Well, it’s safe to say that The Pawn acquits itself fairly nicely on the food front as well.

So what does The Pawn have in common with The Press Room Group’s other restaurants (The Press Room and SML)? Amazing attention to detail, that’s what. Part of what makes all three of those places real dining experiences is that no expense has been spared on the décor, the ambience and the little niggly things that all contribute to giving you a great feeling about eating there. Consequently, The Pawn makes the most of its old shophouse setting – airy high ceilings, balcony seating, long iron-grilled windows and decoration that totally fits with the simple grandeur of the place.

It feels like a comfy dining room. Not a posh snooty one where you daren’t clatter your cutlery, not the one in your gran’s sitting room with the conked-out sofas, but somewhere nice in-between. The chairs are proper rustic wooden dining chairs, with embroidered cushions and arts and crafts style engravings, but all slightly different so it’s obvious they weren’t just bulk bought from Ikea. There are strips of beautiful bespoke floral wallpaper (designed by HK artist Tsang Kin-Wah) that, when viewed up-close, is basically pretty graffiti. There’s lots more honest brown furniture that feels old without feeling ancient, like it had a life before The Pawn rather than being created especially for it, whilst the famous HK pawnshop symbol recurs throughout, on their personalised crockery, restored on the wall outside and even on the platter that your bill arrives on. Add a few Hong Kong touches, like simple dangling plastic ceiling lamps and views over bustling Wan Chai with the audible dinging of passing trams and you have beautifully-executed design that’s obviously had hours of thought poured into it but that still feels relaxed and unobtrusive, rather than fake and try-hard. As you may be able to tell, I loved it.

Meanwhile, the menu is pure British gastropub. Ham hock, bone marrow, liver, hearty portions of red meat and mash in various guises, sticky toffee pudding, apple crumble… but all posh-ed up, with modern chef-y twists and served in a becoming manner, hence just about justifying charging $180 for a plate of fish and chips.

The lunch deal, however, is pretty amazing. $150 for three generously-sized courses of such quality is fantastic value and bizarrely, cheaper than ordering any single main from the a la carte menu.

I started things off with pumpkin and ginger soup, definitely only suitable for those that don’t mind their soups being sweet. Despite it being part of the set, I was pleasantly surprised to see that they hadn’t stinted on portion size and despite it being a piping hot day, I was pleasantly surprised that my piping hot soup still felt summery. It was rich, thick and creamily sweet and I loved the warm fuzzy kick that the ginger gave. There were also two glazed crispy toast type things providing a snappy crunch that complemented the soup perfectly.

Onto my main of Dover sole, with a lemon butter sauce, mash and assorted leaves. When my boyfriend tasted it, he commented ‘The sauce is the best thing on there.’ He was absolutely right, begging the question: why wasn’t there more of it?! One of my pet hates (can you tell I watch too much Masterchef?!) is when sauces are dribbled about for artistic effect rather than actual consumption. Yes, it looked pretty, but it tasted even better and I wanted more! My fish was nicely-cooked and, combined with what little drizzle there was, tasted lightly lovely, but the mash was oddly cold and there was too much of it (a problem endemic with mash in general). And, to me, leaves will always be just leaves.

My boyfriend had the fish and chips. I tested the waiter was genuinely curious and asked what type of fish it was – sole again, apparently. Given how thin sole is, chef did well to fry this without making it dry and flaky. It was soft and moist, coated in golden crispy batter that was just about the right thickness. We knew it’d be a good ‘un when my boyfriend stuck his knife in and it crackled and crunched nicely! The boring peas would have been better as mushy peas, with some appropriately chef-y twist like mint and again, the overall portion was huge. But the chips were the star. In Hong Kong, you’ll get served a lot of supposed chips, with very few of them equating to anything like a British chip. French fries, frites, wedges, criss-cut, curly, julienne, slightly fatter frites but still definitely not chips, very obviously formerly-frozen chips out a bag – we’ve seen it all. These chips were the real deal. Reassuringly fat, crispy on the outside, meltingly soft on the inside, piping hot and made from quality spuds, they were just about the closest I’ve come to real chips so far in Hong Kong. Steak-cut slabs of gold.

Finally, dessert. Otherwise known as heaven. It was a banana walnut cake with toffee sauce, which I was ordering mainly for the toffee sauce, hoping it would be similar to the a-maz-ing butterscotch sauce in SML’s profiteroles. I don’t even like banana walnut cake… I’m now banana walnut cake’s biggest fan. Often, banana can be an overpowering presence but here it was a pleasant fruity undertone and the earthy flavour and crunch of walnuts ran through the cake, in addition to some very Chinese candied walnut clusters on the top (often seen as appetisers in Chinese restaurants). The sponge was light and I’d practically scoffed it all before I realised I’d started. But oh, the toffee sauce! I’m in raptures just reliving it now. Sticky, gooey, dark, rich, sweet, syrupy caramel. I would have licked the plate clean if I could (and as you can see, I gave it a good go with my spoon!). My boyfriend kept catching me give little gleeful grins as I set about demolishing it; I think I was hugging myself with delight by the end. Imagine the infamous scene from When Harry Met Sally and you’re probably not far off.

So yes, the prices are a little steep. Yes, the food is not really aiming at Michelin-starred ingenuity. And yes, you’re paying as much for the atmosphere as for the ingredients. But for a special occasion, a luxurious lunch or just because you fancy treating yourself, I think it’s worth it. And if you really can’t stretch to it, just shimmy up to the roof garden instead!

The Pawn, 2F, 62 Johnston Road, Wan Chai, 2866 3444

Banner photo from Urban Renewal Authority’s website

Little Sheep, HIPOT, Mou Mou Club and Gyu Yin hotpot restaurant reviews – top of the pots!

Is it wrong that I define my seasons more by food than the colour of leaves on trees? If summer’s all about salads, ice cream sundaes and sizzling barbeques in the sun, then the arrival of autumn makes my mouth water over the prospect of hearty stews, heart-warming curries and now I live in Hong Kong, hotpot.

In England, hotpot is normally of the Lancashire kind, filled with day-long baked mutton, root vegetables and lashings of gravy. But any Brit wandering into a Chinese hotpot restaurant expecting more of the same will be in for a shock!

As with most of the best Chinese eating experiences, having a hotpot is best done as a communal experience. As many people as possible gathered round a steaming pot of stock into which goes… nearly any type of food you can think of! Seriously, we aren’t fussy. Meat, fish, seafood, veggies, dumplings, tofu, noodles… if it can be cooked, chuck it in! And if you aren’t too sure… well, chuck it in anyway!

Everything comes dished up to you raw and it’s down to you to do the cooking by submerging the items in the boiling soup base. Consequently, all the meat is sliced see-through thin and the fattier, the better to keep it as tender as possible. [As someone who’s lived my life picking all traces of fat off my meat, this came as a bit of a shock but trust me, it cooks beautifully and doesn’t go rubbery or chewy as you might expect.] You also get a choice of stock, from the bland to the spicy, and different sets of chopsticks for handling raw and cooked food (although I’m terrible at remembering to do this as I’m in such a hurry to get the grub in my gob). No need to painstakingly let the waiter know your dietary requirements or your life-long hatred of fungi – if you don’t want it, don’t cook it. Simple as that.

The most traditional hotpot restaurant I’ve been to is Little Sheep, a franchise so huge that you can even buy their own branded hotpot stock from supermarkets. Here, the huge metal pot is sunk into the middle of the table with a Lazy Susan round it, so everyone mucks in, cooking bits either for themselves or leaving them to stew for communal consumption! It all gets a bit hot and steamy so they even put covers over your chairs (and coats hanging on the back of them) to prevent you getting too much hotpot vapour on your stuff!

This place has a banquet feel and is definitely one for parties or family gatherings. As a result, there were masses of beautifully-presented items to choose from – my favourites were the huge variety of different meatballs and these amazing tofu spheres that started out crispy (like latticed batter) but once submerged, collapsed in on themselves to become a gooey delicious mess. The best thing is that even though you only have one pot between everyone, it’s divided into two sections so you can get two different soups going on – especially useful if you’ve got some spice fiends and others that spontaneously combust on the sight of the stuff. We seemed to have endless platters of food arriving and in the end, it only came to about $100 each. The meat if top quality and apparently, staff sometimes answer the phone ‘Baaa! I’m a little sheep!’ What’s not to love?

Little Sheep is styled after Mongolian hotpots, but Japanese hotpots are increasingly gaining in popularity here. Also known as shabu-shabu (Japanese for ‘swish swish’ to describe the sound of stirring stuff in the pot) or suriyaki, the two restaurants I’ve tried offered buffets rather than set platters (see above), with the hotpot a saucepan brewing on an electric hob in the centre of your table where you control the heat (see below), rather than the huge metal vat boiling away at Little Sheep. Given the cost of all-you-can-eat, plus side platters of fatty beef/pork, the choice and quality of ingredients is a little lower. Cocktail sausages, fish balls, leafy veggies and different kinds of bean curd, mushrooms and noodles are the main players. You also get a sauce bar (see above), where you fill a dish with whatever condiments you choose, most notably chilli, garlic and spring onions (and you can never go wrong with extra soya, right?) to dip your food in after cooking. Although I saw one person chucking their dishes of sauce into their hotpot, so anything goes. There is also a time limit, normally of an hour at lunch, 90 minutes at dinner.

At Mou Mou Club, we opted for the spicy soup base, which was really moreish, even if it did boast a bit of a kick! Their beef was an absolute delight as well – really flavoursome and tender – and it came piled high! The price varies depending on the quality of meat you pick and whether you’re content to stick to just one platter or want the option of getting more. Including a soft drink, it came to about $100 and there’s also all-you-can-eat ice-cream, including lots of toppings destined to take you back to your childhood. And everyone knows that rainbow sprinkles make everything better. Alas, no-one saying ‘Moo! I’m a cow!’ here though.

Over at Gyu Yin, it was much of the same. Their buffet was a bit better stocked but there was a bit less beef for your buck and our choice of soup base was bland. But the main draw of this joint (also coming in at around $100) was an unlimited supply of Häagen-Daazs ice-cream in four different flavours, which change regularly. My dining companion and I had absolutely no compunction in cutting short our stewing time to devote ourselves to dessert – and wielding that ice-cream scoop was a bit of a work-out, let me tell you!

My favourite, however, is HIPOT (which was the banner photo). This seems to be a fusion of all styles of hotpot (bar Lancashire) with a HK twist – there’s the Japanese array of dipping sauces yet also a more eclectic range of soups and ingredients. I absolutely adore their satay soup, super-tasty, just that little bit spicy and with that unique satay taste. Perfect for those like me who want a bit of a kick without having our socks blown off, it’s wonderfully moreish and the flavour really seeps into your food. But there is a stock for every taste, from the more aromatic mild coriander to the super-spicy ‘devil’ brew!

You can either opt for a set platter or individual dishes, ordering them like dim-sum. I had a set for lunch (a bowl of veg, a bowl of your choice of noodle and a bowl of ‘other’) and added a plate of beef extra, which still came to a quite ridiculously-cheap $58. The beef was surprisingly good, given its cost (although I could have done with another plate) and I really loved the dumplings. The yellow-and-white striped one was cheesy and creamy and generally lush. There was also a yummy veggie one and although the prawn/shrimp/crab ones looked a little dubious, they tasted lovely and the sweetness of the meat really came through. I gave the dry and unloved looking seafood a miss though, especially as it tends to overcook and get tough easily (especially if you forget about and later discover a rubbery lump at the bottom of your pan).

I also went a la carte at dinner and even with twenty or so dishes headed at our party of four, it came to just under $100 each, including an unlimited flow of soft drinks and juices of your choice. I’d highly recommend their range of bean curd (the wrinkly tofu skin becomes chewy milky deliciousness upon getting the hotpot treatment), the fish balls, the prawn dumplings and the smaller slices of fresh beef. Sorry I can’t be more exact but here we come to HIPOT’s downfall – the menu is only in Chinese! So I’m not sure if we ordered the wrong thing, but that night, the fatty beef was really tough and grisly whereas the ‘fresh’ beef was much nicer.

The real bonus about HIPOT is that you all get individual saucepans, which is great if you have a vegetarian in your midst or fancy trying a few different stocks. For those hygiene-inclined, it also means you are less likely to be sharing your germs with the entire table! It’s great for mulling over, having a chat and getting gradually full as you go, although you might initially be a bit pushed for space on your table!

[In general, I also can’t get enough of having udon noodles in hotpot. There’s just something about their fat, chewy, slippery unctuousness that tastes extraordinary in hotpot.]

So Hong Kong hotpots are cheap, tasty, filling and fun. With autumn well and truly here, there’s only question – what are you waiting for?!

– See all branches of Little Sheep in Hong Kong here
See all branches of Mou Mou Club in Hong Kong here
See all branches of GyuJin in Hong Kong here
See all branches of HIPOT in Hong Kong here

 

Qinghai Tibet Noodles (青藏牛肉麵 Noodles) restaurant review – have a knife(cut) day

NOTE: This restaurant has now moved two doors down and *HORROR* no longer serves knife-cut noodles. The lo mein is still fantastic though.

Recently, I feel like I’ve hit my rice ceiling – and you thought it was impossible for a Chinese to ever tire of the stuff! As a result, I’ve found myself on a bit of a noodles drive and (you’d never guess it given the name!) Quinghai Tibet Noodles (青藏牛肉麵 Noodles) is one of my favourites.

It’s a tiny little cha chan teng, tucked away down a side-street which is eternally wet from dripping air-cons. Inside, however, it’s clean, modern and relatively comfortable with that staple of any good local eaterie – a tv for everyone (including staff) to gawp at, regardless of what rubbish is on. In fact, you could say there are two forms of entertainment since the kitchen is also on-show (if you can see through the steam!).

Unsurprisingly, the signature dish of 青藏牛肉麵 Noodles is their beef soup noodle (note the little ox horns and tail in their logo), famous in Tibet and Northern parts of China. [The Chinese name of the shop, phonetically along the lines of ‘tsing djor ngau yuk’, is that famous region of China plus the word for beef.] The white noodles are knife-cut (also called hand-pulled), meaning they’re all irregular sizes and thicknesses and it’s fun to watch the chefs hack away at them in the kitchen. Prior to eating here, I’d never tried these before and I have to declare, I’m in love. Chewy, slippery shavings of noodle, swimming in a clear strong beefy stock – absolutely delicious.

The beef itself is cut into thin lean slices – a pleasant change from the fatty slivers intended for hot-potting or the MSG-laden hunks that you usually get in local restaurants. On a few occasions, it has been a little tough (I believe it’s cut from the brisket) but it never falls short on flavour. Well, for me anyway. My boyfriend finds both the beef and the soup bland but given that I was once given the nickname ‘Red Beef Girl’ by hotel staff, I absolutely lap up the iron-rich flavour of the dish. It’s brilliantly un-greasy and feels clean and fresh, yet mature and wintry. Given the rustic presentation (check out that huge wooden ladle!) and defiantly handcrafted preparation, it’s the furthest you can get from a pack of instant noodles down your local Park N Shop. The regular portion clocks in at $29 (X-Large, $42) and I have never once managed to finish it. It’s a grown-up dish for grown-up people. The boss barely needs to ask me what I want anymore!

[Incidentally, my boyfriend once had the non-soup non-knife-cut noodles – fool! – in the homemade spicy garlic sauce ($38) and said they were absolutely brilliant. He didn’t even touch the beef that came with it.]

There are also lots of little appetisers and side-dishes that are great for sharing. I’m actually quite obsessed with their crispy chicken (it comes with veggie rice for $36), which I rate higher than KFC. Partly, that’s because KFC here isn’t very good but partly, that’s because these are so SO yummy. It’s all lean, tender, flavoursome chicken and the crispy coating is just addictive. It’s exactly the right texture – not so much of it that it overpowers the chicken but a scrumptious crunch that augments the flavour. I have been known to eat a whole plate on my own, much to the dismay of whoever ordered the rice in the first place!

This bean curd pickle thing always seems to turn up with our meal (it comes with the set but you can get a starter sampler of three mini-dishes of your own choosing at $36) and I surprised myself by being quite into this as well. I can’t be certain what’s in the dressing but it’s a quirky blend of spicy-salty-sour, with the earthy nuttiness of the sesame seeds coming through too. I really like the play of textures between the soft, smooth, milky bean curd and the crunch of the pickled cucumber, although I’ve yet to master the art of eating it (that darn bean curd is a slippy beast!).

In my time, I’ve also tried their chicken dumplings (very good), various other pickles (pretty similar to the stuff with the bean curd) and a really horrible spicy chicken drumstick thing that they tried to fob me off with once when they said I couldn’t have the crispy chicken. Seriously, there was so much curry powder on it that I started sneezing as soon as it was put down on the table! However, it’s really popular so I guess it’s an acquired taste.

The two things that I was going to mention as downsides – lack of an English menu and lack of a smile from the manager – have recently been rectified. The former now exists, whilst, in the time-honoured tradition of all seemingly surly cha cha teng waiters, we’ve gradually broken down the manager by our sheer number of visits and he’s become much friendlier (he was always efficient and courteous, even when he wasn’t smiling much). Turns out he can also speak English really well, which I wish he’d told me earlier so I didn’t just sit there like a mute on our first few trips.

This is simply one of my favourite local restaurants (it’s only about 3 minutes from where I live). Reasonably-priced food, in reasonably-personable surroundings, offering something I can’t get from everywhere else at an extremely high quality. Definitely worth running the gauntlet of the dripping air-cons for. Oodles o’ Noodles? Yes please!

(And yes, that last line was a Neighbours joke).

青藏牛肉麵 Noodles, G/F 27A Kam Ping Street, North Point, Hong Kong, 2151 0506, closed every Tuesday

The Peak Lookout restaurant review – peak-a-boo!

Ask me my favourite restaurant in Hong Kong and The Peak Lookout comes close to the top of my list. It’s not so much the food – though delicious, it’s nothing to get excited about – more the location, the ambience and the heritage of place. It has an unhurried old-time elegance, plus obligatory stunning views, that make it the perfect place to while a way a few hours on the Peak.

The Peak Lookout Hong Kong

In a place where restaurants come and go practically before you’ve finished your starter, The Peak Lookout is actually a site with history. Back in the day, it was a resting shelter for the poor sods that had to cart about rich expats on sedan chairs whilst the building we know became an eaterie, called The Old Peak Café, in 1947. This was before the days of the two giant malls that now hold fort at The Peak and it was practically the only (decent) place to eat there for a good fifty years. The Old Peak Café was listed as a Grade II Historic Building in 1981 following a petition against its demolition and Café Deco lost the lease of it in 1989, whereupon it was renovated and re-opened as  The Peak Lookout in 2001. Oddly enough, Café Deco’s eponymous flagship restaurant now sits in The Peak Galleria nearby (with a near identical menu), whilst their Peak Café resides near Central’s Mid-Level Escalators.

Peak Café, in the 1960s, from Gwulo.com

The Peak Lookout is now owned by the Epicurean Group, who also own that other famous long-standing Western restaurant, Jimmy’s Kitchen. The building itself is still recognisable from its 50s and 60s heyday and has been faithfully restored with a faintly colonial décor. It’s all rattan chairs, timbered high ceilings and sepia photos… I say this and I don’t even think there were rattan chairs but that’s the vibe they’re going for and it definitely works. Floor-to-ceiling windows look onto the terrace outside, complete with stone walls, shrubs and stunning vistas over the rest of Hong Kong. The suited-up staff come from the more reverential age of dining and the ambience is pleasant, genteel and relaxed. I particularly love the building lit-up at night, where they somehow manage to turn what are essentially fairy lights into the first word in sophistication.

The menu itself “takes inspiration from” various cuisines i.e. is a bit all over the place. It basically does classic dishes and does them very well, even if it’s at premium prices. However, The Peak Lookout, or whoever is the chef there, will forever hold a place in my heart for knowing what gravy is. I have been at supposed steakhouses and had requests for ‘gravy’ met with blank stares and no, I do not mean mushroom jus or garlic sauce or black pepper. I mean gravy. It’s on the menu here, as ‘gravy’, and that makes me very happy indeed.

I find it very difficult to not order the 8oz filet steak from their ‘garden charcoal barbeque’ when I’m here ($328, plus potato, side, sauce of your choice and coleslaw). This is because, in addition to knowing what gravy is, the chef knows how to cook a steak. I don’t even want to think about the number of cows that have died in vain when, on requesting a medium-rare steak, I’ve been met with a bloody blue mess or a dry tasteless brick. Here, it’s always been cooked superbly – perfectly pink in the middle, juicy, beefy and not oozing so much liquid that you just know it hasn’t been rested.

I’m also a big fan of the risotto balls ($108), something a little different that I’ve not seen on many other menus in Hong Kong. Crispy breadcrumb-coated balls of creamy, rich risotto in a tangy tomato sauce, these are absolutely divine but definitely too filling for one or even two people. I’ve also had the nachos, which are probably the nicest I’ve had in Hong Kong thus far (and at $108, they bloody well should be!). For me, the key to good nachos is to cover them in as much cheese, guacamole and sour cream as their little tortilla bodies can take without burning them – it sounds simple, but you’d be surprised how many places get it wrong. The chicken quesadillas ($98) are also amongst the tastiest I’ve tried.

I had high hopes for the escargots ($98), as the soft garlicky buttery ones at Jimmy’s Kitchen are divine, but these were buried under far too much mashed potato and not served in their shell, which always means they’re going to be the wrong side of rubbery. And a Caesar Salad ($126 – and that’s without chicken!) will always essentially be a Caesar Salad.

As I never stray from my steak, I can’t comment first-hand on any of the other mains. My boyfriend had the chicken vindaloo ($166) and gave it 7.5 out of 10, saying it was infinitely better than Jimmy’s Kitchen’s famed curry (which he likened to the boil-in-a-bag English variety). My mum had the vegetable curry ($152), my auntie stir-fried mixed vegetables ($146) and whilst had no complaints about the taste, they had plenty to say about the inflated prices. Whilst I think you can justify paying a few hundred for quality pieces of meat (especially as these are usually imported cuts), I’m not sure you can charge that much for well-dressed vegetables.

But in the end, you know you’re not actually paying for the food itself (sorry, I’ve not once managed to have enough room for dessert). You’re paying for the ambience, the environment and the views – and they’re totally worth it. With the birds twittering, the sun shining and HK’s harbour just being its usual beautiful self, it takes some beating. And if you face that way, you can pretend the two ugly malls on The Peak don’t exist either.

The Peak Lookout, 121 The Peak, Hong Kong, 2849 1000

Crabtree & Evelyn Tearoom review – tea for two?

UPDATE: Crabtree & Evelyn Tearoom is now closed.

Afternoon tea with jam, cream and scones is practically a British institution, right? Except I know of not one person in Blighty that partakes of this quintessentially English meal.

Of course, that hasn’t stopped the art of afternoon tea being embraced by most luxury hotels and their dining establishments here in Hong Kong… and even some not so luxury ones, if the ‘high tea set’ at Spaghetti House is anything to go by (it includes crisps and chicken wings… high tea at a five year old’s birthday party perhaps). In fact, enjoying the tea set at the Peninsula has become one of those ‘must-do’ things here (I’ve done it twice and yes, it goes on the long list of things I mean to write about eventually). However, the Crabtree & Evelyn Tearoom must be one of the few places in HK that specialises only in serving afternoon tea – well that and being quality purveyors of nice-smelling hand cream.

You’d never guess that this quaint little corner of Little England would be tucked away in a nondescript office building in Wan Chai. Crabtree & Evelyn has always cultivated a traditionally English image so I was somewhat surprised to discover that the company is actually American and was founded in the late 1970s. They certainly had me fooled – and with their Tearoom, complete with floral crockery, relaxed atmosphere and scones laden with cream and a variety of jams, they’ve successfully managed to keep up the illusion of being every bit as old-world as the tearooms you might find in an Agatha Christie novel.

Enjoying your tea set – and you really should take time to enjoy it, as that’s practically the whole charm of the thing – is as much about lusting after the pretty-as-a-picture tableware as it is about the food itself. I knew I’d died and gone to chintzy heaven when even the printed napkins matched the teapots. (So much so I banned my boyfriend from using his, so I could take them home to stroke lovingly).

I opted for the rose tea, whilst the boyfriend went for lavender with the menu listing the various health properties each type of tea has – let’s say the rose tea was a little too good for my digestion, if you catch my drift! But it’s always fun to see what looks like pot-pourri floating in your brew and the fragrance was really rather pleasant. The lavender one did taste a bit too much of garden but the rose was not too strong and had a nice, clean taste, both getting considerably better once you stirred in some honey!

The food itself was a little hit and miss. The undoubted star of the set were the scones, which came with enough types of jam to make the WI’s stall at the village fête look positively understocked in comparison. They were warm, buttery, claggy mounds of scrumptious, especially when smeared with liberal lashings of cream and jam. The only sad thing is that scones are so filling, we didn’t manage to polish off the lot! I’d say they were superior to the ones at the Peninsula, to be honest.


The rest of the sweets were decidedly less sensational. There were some fruit tarts that looked better than they tasted, with the fresh fruit element much nicer than the bland hard pastry. The kiwi-topped one had some kind of custard in it that was far too sickly sweet; sorry Mr Crabtree, but Maxims can do better. Eating the four small chocolates was like a confectionary-based form of Russian roulette – my first attempt was a marzipan one, which was disgusting, mainly because I hate marzipan. My boyfriend got luckier with a plain chocolate one with a gorgeously gooey centre, and there was another nice one that had crispy bits in. The final one had the word Amaretto on it, so at least the rich kick of alcohol was expected. It reminded me of that chocolate-eating face-off ad for Revels (‘Coffee!!!’); since they’re small and all different, it makes sharing with your partner-in-crime a little difficult!

Finally, the savouries. To be honest, I was unable to distinguish any difference between the pastries so could not begin to guess what they were filled with! They were acceptable but not exceptional. The sandwiches, however, were in a different league. Then again, I’m a big fan of sandwiches as part of afternoon tea although in any other setting, I won’t touch them! Lovely, soft, fresh white bread (can’t stand places that try and fob me off with brown or worse, wholemeal), filled with lovely soft fresh fillings. Delightful. One was the classic combination of tuna and cucumber (again, I won’t touch cucumber in any other setting!), the other was sliced chicken. There’s nothing more simple than a sandwich but I guess the genius of these were that they really reminded me of what I’d get back home. The best sandwiches are so light you don’t even realise they’re gone until your hands are empty and these were exactly that.


The tea set for two clocks in at $298, which I’d describe as reasonable value for the whole experience rather than just the food itself (HSBC credit card holders also get 10%, which basically cancels out the service charge). I think The Tearoom is also the only place where Crabtree & Evelyn’s beautifully-packaged cookies and preserves are available for sale. It’s best for a lazy day where you can enjoy the meal in the lovely atmosphere – namely, with the divine scent of Crabtree & Evelyn toiletries floating in the air (you actually get a gift-boxed hand cream free; alas, the jar of honey that other reviewers have commented on is now reduced to a jug of the stuff that cannot be taken away!). Even the furniture has an English country house feel, with plush high-backed chairs, marble tables and a pretty veiled gazebo outside if you dare to brave non air-conditioned HK weather. There are only a few tables and given that it is still a shop, you do get customers wandering in, which can feel a little weird as you’re scoffing down your scones. We went on a weekday afternoon, meaning we were the only customers and able to enjoy our meal in peace, quiet and luxury although I imagine weekends are much busier and you’d have to book.


Overall, I had a luverly time but I’m not sure I’m in a hurry to go again, especially as there are so many tea sets to try out in HK. But it was worth it for the atmosphere, which really did feel like home – or at least, the chocolate-box version of it. I even felt like I had to watch my table manners (of course, I always do!), hold my teacup with my pinkie sticking out and come suitably attired (I wore a dress)! Definitely one for girlie girls looking to coo over pretty plates – just don’t hold me responsible if you find yourself disillusioned with Ikea’s finest afterwards!

Shop 126, Sun Hung Kai Centre, 30 Harbour Road, Wan Chai, Hong Kong 2511 0868

Afternoon tea with jam, cream and scones is practically a British institution, right? Except I know of not one person in Blighty that partakes of this quintessentially English meal.

Of course, that hasn’t stopped the art of afternoon tea being embraced by most luxury hotels and their dining establishments here in Hong Kong… and even some not so luxury ones, if the ‘high tea set’ at Spaghetti House is anything to go by (it includes crisps and chicken wings… high tea at a five year old’s birthday party perhaps). In fact, enjoying the tea set at the Peninsula has become one of those ‘must-do’ things here (I’ve done it twice and yes, it goes on the long list of things I mean to write about eventually). However, the Crabtree & Evelyn Tearoom must be one of the few places in HK that specialises only in serving afternoon tea – well that and being quality purveyors of nice-smelling hand cream.

You’d never guess that this quaint little corner of Little England would be tucked away in a nondescript office building in Wan Chai. Crabtree & Evelyn has always cultivated a traditionally English image so I was somewhat surprised to discover that the company is actually American and was founded in the late 1970s. They certainly had me fooled – and with their Tearoom, complete with floral crockery, relaxed atmosphere and scones laden with cream and a variety of jams, they’ve successfully managed to keep up the illusion of being every bit as old-world as the tearooms you might find in an Agatha Christie novel.

Enjoying your tea set – and you really should take time to enjoy it, as that’s practically the whole charm of the thing – is as much about lusting after the pretty-as-a-picture tableware as it is about the food itself. I knew I’d died and gone to chintzy heaven when even the printed napkins matched the teapots. (So much so I banned my boyfriend from using his, so I could take them home to stroke lovingly).

I opted for the rose tea, whilst the boyfriend went for lavender with the menu listing the various health properties each type of tea has – let’s say the rose tea was a little too good for my digestion, if you catch my drift! But it’s always fun to see what looks like pot-pourri floating in your brew and the fragrance was really rather pleasant. The lavender one did taste a bit too much of garden but the rose was not too strong and had a nice, clean taste, both getting considerably better once you stirred in some honey!

The food itself was a little hit and miss. The undoubted star of the set were the scones, which came with enough types of jam to make the WI’s stall at the village fête look positively understocked in comparison. They were warm, buttery, claggy mounds of scrumptious, especially when smeared with liberal lashings of cream and jam. The only sad thing is that scones are so filling, we didn’t manage to polish off the lot! I’d say they were superior to the ones at the Peninsula, to be honest.

The rest of the sweets were decidedly less sensational. There were some fruit tarts that looked better than they tasted, with the fresh fruit element much nicer than the bland hard pastry. The kiwi-topped one had some kind of custard in it that was far too sickly sweet; sorry Mr Crabtree, but Maxims can do better. Eating the four small chocolates was like a confectionary-based form of Russian roulette – my first attempt was a marzipan one, which was disgusting, mainly because I hate marzipan. My boyfriend got luckier with a plain chocolate one with a gorgeously gooey centre, and there was another nice one that had crispy bits in. The final one had the word Amaretto on it, so at least the rich kick of alcohol was expected. It reminded me of that chocolate-eating face-off ad for Revels, which spoofs the scene from Deer Hunter (‘Coffee!!!’); since they’re so small and all different, it makes sharing with your partner-in-crime a little difficult!

Finally, the savouries. To be honest, I was unable to distinguish any difference between the pastries so could not begin to guess what they were filled with! They were acceptable but not exceptional. The sandwiches, however, were in a different league. Then again, I’m a big fan of sandwiches as part of afternoon tea although in any other setting, I won’t touch them! Lovely, soft, fresh white bread (can’t stand places that try and fob me off with brown or worse, wholemeal), filled with lovely soft fresh fillings. Delightful. One was the classic combination of tuna and cucumber (again, I won’t touch cucumber in any other setting!), the other was sliced chicken. There’s nothing more simple than a sandwich but I guess the genius of these were that they really reminded me of what I’d get back home. The best sandwiches are so light you don’t even realise they’re gone until your hands are empty and these were exactly that.

The tea set for two clocks in at $298, which I’d describe as reasonable value for the whole experience rather than just the food itself (HSBC credit card holders also get 10%, which basically cancels out the service charge). I think The Tearoom is also the only place where Crabtree & Evelyn’s beautifully-packaged cookies and preserves are available for sale. It’s best for a lazy day where you can enjoy the meal in the lovely atmosphere – namely, with the divine scent of Crabtree & Evelyn toiletries floating in the air (you actually get a gift-boxed hand cream free; alas, the jar of honey that other reviewers have commented on is now reduced to a jug of the stuff that cannot be taken away!). Even the furniture has an English country house feel, with plush high-backed chairs, marble tables and a pretty veiled gazebo outside if you dare to brave non air-conditioned HK weather. There are only a few tables and given that it is still a shop, you do get customers wandering in, which can feel a little weird as you’re scoffing down your scones. We went on a weekday afternoon, meaning we were the only customers and able to enjoy our meal in peace, quiet and luxury although I imagine weekends are much busier and you’d have to book.

Overall, I had a luverly time but I’m not sure I’m in a hurry to go again, especially as there are so many tea sets to try out in HK. But it was worth it for the atmosphere, which really did feel like home – or at least, the chocolate-box version of it. I even felt like I had to watch my table manners (of course, I always do!), hold my teacup with my pinkie sticking out and come suitably attired (I wore a dress)! Definitely one for girlie girls looking to coo over pretty plates – just don’t hold me responsible if you find yourself disillusioned with Ikea’s finest afterwards!

Shop 126, Sun Hung Kai Centre, 30 Harbour Road, Wan Chai, 2511 0868

Stick Stick Desserts – oooh, stick you!

UPDATE: All Stick Stick locations are now closed.

Came across these perfect little tea-time snacks in the shopping mall at Hang Hau and just had to try them. We tried the Tiramisu, Chestnut Mont Blanc, Marble Cheesecake, Strawberry Cheesecake, Apple Cinnamon and Brownie (top to bottom, left to right).

The shop is called Stick Stick – all their cakes come in these small but perfectly-formed slices, or rather, sticks. So in-keeping with the small but perfectly-formed theme, I’ll try and keep my it brief as to why I thought this was such a cute concept:

  • Each one was $10. No messing about with cents or odd numbers. Easy.
  • The perfect size – not so big that you feel fat, bored or full but big enough to quell any dessert craving….
  • And small and cheap enough to justify buying plenty of different varieties! (As if I need much excuse!)
  • Neat and tidy – biscuit base stops it from falling apart, stick shape made it easy to pop in mouth and polish off far too quickly = no mess and no washing-up!
  • YUMMY! The cheesecakes were just the right amount of sweet, the apple cinnamon was like a delicious mini apple crumble and the brownie was gooey chocolate goodness with a satisfying nutty crunch.

Decisions, decisions… (click to enlarge)

I find a lot of HK desserts overly creamy and soft so the biscuit base of these makes for a nice change. In fact, the only way Stick Stick could get any better is if it offered a few comfy chairs and coffee to make it a great stop-off for shopped-out feet in the mall!

The proof of the pudding is in the eating – literally. So here’s a picture of my auntie enjoying her Mango Stick Stick with such gusto that I didn’t even manage to get a photo of it!

The ninja of cake-eating

Stick Stick, $10 each, Hollywood Plaza (Diamond Hill MTR) and East Point City (Hang Hau MTR). Their concessions rotate round various malls and department stores in Hong Kong, so if you find one, grab some!

Isola restaurant review – that’s amore!

Isola is one of those restaurants that routinely crops up in magazines, reviews and forums as one of HK’s best – whether it’s for being the best Italian, the best pizza or the best view in town. Surely it can’t be all three?

Nevertheless, anyone with eyes and a functioning brain could cast an easy vote for ‘best view’, as seen above. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows not only give Isola a wonderfully light and airy atmosphere, but also allow you to soak up an unimpinged vista of HK’s harbour, beautiful both by day or night (save for HK’s never-ending construction sites). Isola also offers terrace dining for those of you courageous enough to brave potential downpours and bloodthirsty mosquitoes in order to enjoy the view. But a great view alone is not enough to make a great restaurant so onto the food.

Firstly, if your idea of ‘best Italian in town’ constitutes hearty dishes in ‘Mama’s favourite’ style portions served to you by jovial Italian gentlemen to the tune of That’s Amore (this idealised image may have spawned directly from The Lady & The Tramp, damn you Disney!), then Isola may not be your cup of tea, or indeed glass of vino. This is modern Italian dining in a refined setting (I loved the clean chic white décor and the beautiful lace-like woodcut details), with a menu stuffed with lots of fancy names, premium ingredients and nary a bolognaise in sight.

The bread was lovely and fresh, even if no-one bothered to explain to us the different varieties. No-one bothered to explain the sludge-coloured spread either; my boyfriend suggested it might be bread in paste form (!) and from the nondescript taste, his guess is as good as any. Answers on a postcard please.

Whenever I see scallops on a menu, I am powerless to resist so we kicked things off with scallops wrapped in pancetta on white polenta with black truffle ($208). These were as delicious as scallops should be – meaty, juicy and with that trademark hint of sweetness. Pairing scallops with some sort of cured pork product is a classic combination and justifiably so – the crispy salty pancetta complemented the sweet shellfish perfectly. Elsewhere, the black truffle dressing added an earthy little kick and the wisps of crispy onion on top were a decent addition. But the polenta, which I think was the white foam on the bottom, was one texture too far. I’d say it was one taste too far as well, but I can’t really say it tasted of anything. I don’t think it added anything to the dish.

For mains, I went for the strozapretti – hand twisted pasta with mixed seafood and fresh tomatoes ($188). This, again, was absolutely delicious. On first taste, you might think the sauce was a little bland but with each mouthful, it builds into something light yet really appetising. The pasta was gorgeous as well; you can definitely tell it’s fresh and hand-made, as it practically melts in the mouth (something I didn’t think pasta could do!). I was also pleasantly surprised by the amount and variety of seafood – and thankfully, it’s miles away from the pre-packed ‘fruits de mer’ other restaurants dish up. There were prawns, shrimp meat, scallops and squid, all in plentiful supply and all sweet, fresh, meaty and delicious.

The boyfriend opted for a stone-baked pizza and c’mon, even the photo is good enough to eat, right? It’s also far too big for one person! He went for the Piccante ($168), which was topped with spicy Italian salame (not a typo, that’s how the menu spells it!), mozzarella, tomato and black olive. It was good to see (and eat!) a salame that was not razor-thin slices of cured meat you can get from any old Park n’ Shop; this stuff felt like it had actually started life as a sausage and rather than just being salty, was robust and delightfully spicy. The pizza base was the thinner, crispier kind that I love and yes, it was possibly the best pizza I’ve had in HK. Admittedly, more the gourmet variety rather than comfort food designed for noshing whilst slobbed out on the sofa in front of America’s Next Top Model.

With no room (and no money!) left for pudding, we were served some complimentary petit-fours with the bill. I don’t really think this is an Italian tradition, more a signal of Isola’s high-end dining ethos and it was nice touch, albeit one nicer in conception than in digestion. They were a bit dry and the bow-shaped ones were utterly tasteless (the whirl-shaped ones were softer, sweeter and much nicer though).

A few more tips – have the strength of character to say no to mineral water, however snooty the waiter seems! We caved in to the suggestion of still water, hence adding a mighty $75 to our bill ($68 plus 10% service charge), enough for a whole meal down the cha cha deng! Others have commented that Isola is a little tricky to find – we cut through Lane Crawford to reach it, and following signs directing you to the roof verandah should lead you in the right direction (and provide that stunning view for free, which is actually where I took my photos). And if you’re hoping to do dinner before going to the cinema in the IFC (as we did), bear in mind Isola doesn’t open for the evening until 6.30pm.

So best view? Check. Best pizza? Check. Best Italian? For me, Isola doesn’t have enough range in its menu or offer enough traditional staples to make it the best Italian in town, per se. However, the combination of view, décor and quality of food do make it one of the best restaurants in HK, if a little overpriced. Save those pennies and share that pizza, next time!

Isola Bar + Grill, Shop 3071-75, Level 3, IFC Mall, Central, Hong Kong, 2383 8765.

Tapas Pizza: Would not tap that

From the sublime to the ridiculous…

A moment please for the sheer gross-ness of this new pizza from Pizza Hut. No words can do justice…

And yes, those are shrimps and squid you see stuffed in the crusts. Balk.

The Press Room restaurant review – read all about it!

UPDATE: The Press Room is now closed.

Many reviews of The Press Room seem to begin and end with their frites (chips to us Brits). Or should that be FRITES!!! And yes, they are delicious but there’s more to The Press Room than that.

Aiming for a modern European brasserie style, with menus on blackboards and pictures scattered at random on the walls (a random-ness I’m sure took hours to achieve!), it has a nice relaxed atmosphere. For dinner, the lights are dimmed and it’s a rather cosy kind of darkness, even when the place started to get packed around 8pm.

When the boyfriend and I arrived around 7pm, we were the first diners in, meaning our service was second to none. Bread (below right) was served almost immediately and our dishes (all hot, I should mention) arrived within 10 minutes of their being ordered, with mains rolling up almost as soon as we’d polished off our starter.

We both opted for the 2-course menu at $260, where you can choose any starter/soup/dessert from the regular menu, with a choice between lamb, sea bass, skate, pork belly or hanger steak as your main. Go with your significant other, with one of you opting for starter and one for dessert, and (as long as your partner isn’t a total gannet) you effectively get a 3-course menu that, given the quality of the food, is a bit of a bargain.

We started with escargots de bourguignon (snails to us Brits, normally $92; above left, click for enlargement ). At many HK restaurants, these are often cooked to the point of apocalypse and arrive at your table dried-up, shrivelled, rubbery imitations of their former sluggy selves, with some overpowering cheese sauce drenched on top attempting to disguise this fact. Here, they were cooked perfectly, allowing their unique texture and subtle taste to shine through. Garlic butter is the norm for escargots but there was an interesting addition of almonds here that was just as tasty – a shame that there wasn’t the usual bed of mashed potato to mop this scrummy juice up!

We tried to use our bread to soak it up and alas, this was the only disappointing aspect of our meal. My boyfriend (ever the comedian) commented that ‘this bread must have lost its absorbing properties a day ago’; I don’t think the bread was actually stale, just that fancy bread that was never soft to start off with. Not a fan – given that the menu is vaguely Gallic in its feel and the French practically orgasm over the breaking of the bread, I did expect better.

Anyway, onto the mains. Only one word: divine.

For those seeking a few more words, I had the roast pork belly with pomme purée (mash to us Brits), apple sauce and cider jus (sauce to us Brits, $202 ; shown left, click for enlargement). The pork belly was absolutely sublime – stupidly delicious, ridiculously soft and tender and dreamy, with fantastically crispy crackling on top. I hate restaurants that give you one artful drizzle of sauce that isn’t enough to wet your upper lip never mind your whole dish, so I was very pleased at the amount of cider jus, which had just the right amount of tang to bring out even more lush flavours from the pork. One of the best mains I’ve had in HK, no question.

The boyfriend (a chip connoisseur fyi) went for the hanger steak and frites (above right, $248). Again, there was a decent amount of sumptuously rich red wine sauce to complement the beautifully tender and juicy strips of steak. It came on a bed of spinach that my boyfriend, not being one for greenery, largely ignored so I have no idea how that tasted. And, of course, the frites…

They arrive in their own canister, they’re so special. What more can be said about them that hasn’t already been said? Crunchy on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside, just the right side of salty and with the texture and taste of having come from a quality spud. Chips that have some skin on are always the best kind, aren’t they? You may remember me being similarly cock-a-hoop about the chips at SMLSML, The Press Room and The Pawn are all run by the same group, so I’ve only got to try the latter to confirm that their chips are uniformly good (edit: I have and they were!). What’s more, they’re incredibly more-ish; even though I couldn’t finish my mash, I found my fingers creeping to them far too often! The chip connoisseur was happy too (less happy that I munched my way through so many though!).

We rounded things off with the baked chocolate (above, $78) and quite frankly, I could have put away two of these on my own. I’m not entirely sure what it was – some hybrid between cake, sponge, brownie, fudge and warm chocolate – but it was definitely good. The consistency was wonderfully smooth and light but the hit of richness felt like pure chocolatey goodness and its soft creaminess contrasted well with the crunch of the tuile biscuits. The raspberry sauce was a little too tart for me but the waiter did offer to leave it on the side rather than pouring it over, so it’s my own fault (tbf, it did look prettier)!

A few hints for any prospective diners – the Hollywood Road address may fool you into getting off at Central MTR but it’s actually way closer to Sheung Wan (albeit uphill – work up that appetite!) and pretty easy to find as it’s just a stone’s throw along from Man Mo Temple (even if you have no idea what it looks like beforehand, you really can’t miss it). I also noticed an early-bird dinner offer, which looked amazing value, but even so, try and get there earlier if you want a quieter dinner as it clearly attracts a lot of custom from folk in Central getting straight off work.

I’m practically chomping at the bit to visit again, in case this review leaves you in any doubt. Don’t believe everything you read in the papers but do believe all the good stuff you’ve heard about The Press Room – it offers a quality dining experience. And the FRITES!!! aren’t bad either.

The Press Room, 108 Hollywood Road, Central, Hong Kong, 2525 3444


Tapeo restaurant review – I’d tap that

UPDATE: Tapeo is *SOB* now closed.

If I had to name my favourite restaurants in HK, Tapeo would come fairly high in the list. So imagine my excitement on learning that another branch of the tapas joint (run by Concept Creations, who also own Belgian eaterie, Frites) had opened nearer my neck of the woods in Sai Wan Ho, even if I was a little nonplussed at the idea. The Chai Wan side of the Island seems to have an air of unloved cousin about it compared to the high-end, gweilo-filled Central side and Tapeo’s other location is right at the beating heart of the desirable Soho area in Central.

However, once I got there, it made perfect sense. Located next to stunning harbour-side views with some clever tables that are actually windows too, it feels totally fitting for Spanish cuisine – what could be more Mediterranean than a fun casual dinner followed by a stroll along the harbour to walk off those calories after?

The view is better than this picture

In fact, I prefer the Sai Wan Ho Tapeo to the one in Central, where it’s all bar seating (all of about 20 seats – and I’m being generous) and the mood often feels set more to ‘hip bar’ than ‘fine dining’, which is a shame as the food definitely justifies the latter tag. The Sai Wan Ho branch actually has tables (gasp!) and lighting that (heavens above!) actually allows you to see what you’re eating (as well as appreciate the skill that goes into it at the open kitchen). And thanks to those open windows and more generous seating arrangements, it’s an altogether less cramped and more comfortable dining experience than in Central – so take that, Soho!

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