Tag Archives: F&B

Dessert of the day – get a Sift of that!

So you’ve already worked out my predilection towards afternoon tea and its cakey delights. Well, I’m not fussy. I can do afternoon tea in the comfort of my own home too!

However, given my cooking skills (I once exploded a bowl of rice in a microwave), I prefer to leave the baking to the professionals. I’d heard that Sift cupcakes were the best in town so decided to grab a few from their Wan Chai patisserie to devour back at the ranch.

Almost all the gush I’d heard had been for their Red Velvet cupcakes so they were top of my must-try list. As I weighed up my other options (there were over a dozen different varieties of cupcake to choose from, all $22), a girl giggled her way in, queue-jumped me and promptly pinched the last two Red Velvet cakes on display. Never mind red velvet, red smoke began flaring from my nostrils. ‘Are the cakes on display all you have?’ I asked counter girl #1. She informed me that this was the case. My growls probably reverberated all the way down Queen’s Road!

I was just about to do an indignant huff out of the shop, when counter girl #2 (i.e. competent counter girl) located a Red Velvet lurking round the back. I rounded up my order with a Luscious Chocolate and an Oreo (catering to my boyfriend’s specific pre-request of chocolate cake with vanilla frosting!) and skipped happily out of the shop, hoping that for $66, I was about to get the cupcake experience of my life. I wasn’t far wrong.

I’ve often found American-style cupcakes, toppling over with a top-heavy frosting to sponge ratio, have a tendency to be too heavy, too rich and simply too sickly-sweet. Indulgent paradise for the first few mouthfuls; claggy sticky death by cupcake towards the end. Sift’s, however, were none of the above. I have to complement their sponge the most – light, smooth and fluffy but moist and rich, the went down far too easily and quickly given the amount of calories involved!

The much-heralded Red Velvet (light chocolate cake dyed red, Madagascar Bourbon vanilla cream cheese frosting): The moist but feather-light sponge with a soft dainty chocolate taste was a delight but I wasn’t so keen on the topping. Admittedly, I wasn’t actually aware that it was cream cheese… An immediately potent punch of ultra-sweet, super-smooth cream, almost like custard, with a twangy tangy hit. Not my favourite but that’s purely personal taste.

Luscious Chocolate (Valrhona dark chocolate cake, dark chocolate buttercream frosting): In the words of Apprentice Season 4 winner, Lee McQueen – ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ One for all the chocoholics out there (I’m a fully-paid, season-ticket holder), this was pure indulgence in a cupcake liner. The thicker consistency of the frosting was more what I expect of buttercream whilst the whole thing was rich, dense, dark heady hit after hit of intense chocolate flavour but without being overpowering. Yum.

Oreo (Valrhona dark chocolate cake, Madagascar Bourbon vanilla buttercream): Smells like an Oreo, tastes like an Oreo but apparently, not an Oreo… Again, the sponge was a decadent dream of deep chocolate whilst the topping was, by some strange cupcake sorcery, pure Oreo although it seems no Oreos were hurt in the making of this cake. The two sides complemented each other perfectly whilst the stiffer, more icing-like texture of the frosting made it a pleasantly less gooey gobble. The boyfriend was all smiles with this one.

So… orgasmic noises all round, much licking of chocolate-y smears from lips/fingers/plate, two cupcake-scented happy customers. Best cupcakes in Hong Kong? Definite contenders for the crown… and there’s a whole pantheon of other cakes, pastries and cookies to try yet! As long as giggling girl doesn’t thwart my plans, that is…!

Sift Patisserie, 43 Queen’s Road East, Wan Chai, Hong Kong, 2528 0084, closed Mondays

Pomme café review – the apple of my eye

As regular readers may have established (from here… or here… or even here!), I may have a bit of a sweet tooth. Everyone knows dessert occupies a different space in the stomach, right?! So it may come as no surprise to learn that one of my favourite “meals” of the day is afternoon tea.

Afternoon tea in Hong Kong can be a little strange; whilst many chan chan tengs do offer afternoon ‘tea sets’, these often include pork chops, chicken wings, bowls of macaroni and wedges of toast about the thickness of The Bible. Not exactly jam and scones, is it? So the rise of the Western coffee shop, and a mid-afternoon pit-stop to refuel after a hard day’s shopping, is something I wholeheartedly champion!

Pomme is exactly the sort of place that comes to mind. A little haven of Continental peace and quiet in bustling Wan Chai, it’s one of those places where I find myself wanting to buy not just everything on the menu, but everything decorating the place too!

I loved the colourful pretty prints of French shops on the wall. I loved the cabinet of antique copper teaware. I loved the door handle shaped like a whisk, the baby Eiffel tower made out of baguettes and the numerous ornaments inspired by their name (French for apple). Most of all, I loved their delectable range of cakes on display at the counter – great for hungry eyes to feast on, not so great for poor decision-makers (especially when your inner 5 year old wants to go for the signature cupcake decorated to look like a donkey)!

In the end, I settled for a chocolate hazelnut tart whilst my auntie went for lemon cheesecake (both $28). Thankfully, Pomme didn’t go for the cheat’s option of spreading the tart base with Nutella to achieve the chocolate hazelnut effect! Instead the filling was decadently rich, creamily smooth and with little crunch explosions of hazelnut pieces inside. However, although the tart shell was utterly buttery, it was a too hard and came away from the ganache-esque filling too easily.

The lemon cheesecake was a beauty. Light, tangy and neither too sweet, too tart or too heavy, it came complete with crumbly buttery biscuit base, silky smooth topping and just enough zing of lemon to keep things interesting. Textbook stuff.

Finally, a nice cuppa char to wash things down. I particularly liked how the menu told you which kind of teas were suited to which desserts – although I subsequently ignored all advice and went for the one with the prettiest name. My Vanilla Sencha (around $24) was delicately but not overwhelmingly sweet; a good clean fresh brew! I was rather taken with Pomme’s classy teacups – check out those fluid flowing lines!

Although a little pricey, it’s pretty much what I’d expect from a coffee shop in England and certainly no worse but far tastier than the likes of the dreaded Starbucks and Pacific Coffee. For the serene ambience, beautiful décor and an extensive menu I look forward to working my way through, Pomme is definitely deserving of ‘regular pit-stop’ status!

Pomme, G/F Southern Commercial Building, 11 Luard Road, Wan Chai, Hong Kong, 2527 9933

Nitaya Thai House restaurant review – straighten up and Thai right

I’m fond of telling people that it would be impossible to eat at every restaurant in Hong Kong in a lifetime. By that logic, you’d probably need to spend at least a few months in Tai Hang alone.

Why did no-one tell me about Tai Hang before?! A gnat’s sneeze away from the hysterical hustle of Causeway Bay, it’s a relaxed residential area within easy walking distance of Tin Hau and Victoria Park that has an entire winding road dedicated to food. What’s more, in a country where the dining chain is king, the majority are reasonably-priced independent local joints, with more charm going for them than Michael Buble’s eye twinkle. Forget the snooty grandeur of the somewhat similar Happy Valley hood, Tai Hang is where it’s at. Nothing to do with the fact that it’s also within easy walking distance of my home too (when I’m feeling fit that is!)…

It’s easy to get good Thai food in HK. It’s easy to get average Thai food too. I can safely say that Nitaya Thai House is in the former category.

The interior can best be described as homely (estate agent’s word for a bit cramped), with the resulting décor looking like a Thai thrift store sneezed over the premises, scattering its goods willy-nilly on the walls. But with its French window front, charming knick-knacks and convivial atmosphere, it feels like you’ve just wandered into someone’s front room for dinner – except that someone can rustle up a mean Thai feast!

Prices are very reasonable (averaging around $30-40 for most dishes), although portions are on the smaller size. We kicked things off with one of my favourite Thai dishes – clams with chilli paste ($58). Tiny tender morsels swimming in sweet, spicy chilli sauce = heaven. Thai spicy is about the only kind of spicy I can take i.e. mitigated by swathes of sweet coconut milk. The combination of flavours is intense but just right and I love having enough sauce to drench my other dishes in! These things are simply addictive!

Next up, another perennial favourite – Thai-style morning glory (ong choi, $38). I’m used to this being spicier (more ma la chun style); this sauce was actually rather sweet, perhaps due to the kind of fish sauce used or a hefty dose of oyster sauce. Either way, it was still very tasty and the veggies were fresh and tender.

I’m still going through my noodle phase so it was pad thai all the way ($35). This is such an oft poorly executed staple across so many restaurants in HK (not necessarily even Thai ones!) that I’d forgotten how utterly delicious it could be when cooked right. All the vital ingredients were present and correct – egg (not rubbery), bean curd (not rubbery x2), succulent prawns (not rubbery x3), bean sprouts (not masquerading as noodles), heaps of chilli and crushed peanuts (not dumped in a heap in the middle of the dish) and a squeeze of fresh lime juice on the side. The rice noodles were so light, fresh and tasty that they disappeared down our throats without our even noticing (especially once we doused them in that ultra-appetising clam sauce). This portion was barely big enough for two and we soon found ourselves chomping through another!

Finally, we tried Nitaya’s signature dish, which adorns various magazine cuttings presented with your menu and is my banner picture, and their curry steamed prawns ($68) were definitely something a little bit different. Prawns stuffed with what seems to be baby prawn meat mixed with some strong curry spices then drizzled with some soothing coconut milk on top. I’m not sure these were really my bag, as there was too much too thick coconut milk (almost congealed) and I didn’t like the texture of the stuffing (too close to baby food). However, the prawns themselves were delicately sweet, if a little overwhelmed by the somewhat forceful other flavours. A dish worth trying but not really my cup of char.

I’d head to Nitaya again, even though competition in Tai Hang is pretty stiff. Service is friendly, the atmosphere is lively and I haven’t even tried their curry yet! Yup, that settles it… I’ll definitely be back!

Nitaya Thai House, 140 Tong Lo Wan Road, Tai Hang, Hong Kong, 3483 3497

Frites restaurant review – a meal to moule over

UPDATE: Frites’ Central location has now closed – but their other branches in Quarry Bay and Wan Chai are still just as good! See their full addresses at the bottom of this post.

Concept Creations is definitely one of my favourite restaurant groups in Hong Kong. Whilst they’re somewhat dwarfed by dining behemoths like King Parrot, Igor’s and Dining Concepts, it’s quality not quantity, right? I’ve already banged on about how great Tapeo is here (and I was a big fan of their homely little Italian in Soho, Mrs Jones, that they sadly decided to shut down earlier in the year) so now it’s the turn of their other flagship restaurant, Frites.

Frites has bagged a prime location in Central (before all those steep slopes, perfect for lazy arses like me) and unlike many restaurants in the area, its premises are larger than a postage stamp. With a lofty, grand but relaxed ambience, it’s frankly nice to enjoy some high ceilings in this city for a change!

There’s a distinctly Bavarian feel to both the place and the menu – think lederhosen, bratwurst and beerhall and you’re not far off. Sturdy wood furniture, long wooden tables, dark green leather, chequered floors and, most importantly, a very big bar! Screw Hong Kong’s interminably long Oktoberfests, it’s like this at Frites all year round!

But the word Frites isn’t German, I hear you cry! So where’s the common ground between French for chips and Bavarian architecture… why, Belgium, of course.

Continue reading

BLT Burger restaurant review – nice buns!

For more refined diners out there, the term BLT no doubt obviously stands for Bistro Laurent Tourondel, the chain of restaurants started by its eponymous celebrity chef. For any Brits out there, it’s a plain old bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Which, I suppose, isn’t so far from the main offerings at BLT Burger.

Think of BLT Burger as the diffusion line to the more-high end BLT Steak. Offering a menu of burgers and little else, it allows you to get the BLT experience for a fraction of the price. But if you don’t like burgers, you’re screwed.

Both BLT Steak and BLT Burger reside in Tsim Sha Tsui’s luxury mall, Harbour City. But whilst BLT Steak has a prime spot with a gorgeous harbour view to justify those prime prices, BLT Burger is tucked away in the thick of the mall itself. It’s not the biggest shop space and tables are crammed in like jostling mainlanders to the Louis Vuitton shop nearby, but it does have a pleasant cosy feel. Décor is a half-hearted attempt at a 50s diner but the most attractive parts of the room are the platters of lip-smacking cupcakes slap-bang in the middle of the joint. Kudos to whoever decided to use up precious floor space with this display – I imagine they get double the amount of dessert orders because of it.

But onto the food. May I reiterate that if you don’t like burgers, you’re screwed. Although if you’re dumb enough to come into a restaurant with burger in the title, perhaps you deserve to leave hungry! All burgers are made of 100% certified Black Angus beef from a combination of the sirloin, short rib, chuck and brisket. In eating terms, this translates as ‘no bits’. It’s all the good stuff, with none of those appetite-deserting moments where you crunch onto a globule of hard unidentifiable nastiness, still a little bit melt-in-the-mouth crumbly.

When dealing with burgers this big, I have a tip – remove the top bun. Bread is the stuff that fills you up and what’s that top layer doing for you anyway?! All the juicy action is going on in the bottom bun, which has lovingly soaked it all up for you. Then proceed with knife and fork. Why waste vital juices dripping away whilst you’re attempting a Krypton Factor-esque conundrum of squeezing something that big into something that’s so clearly not big enough?!

BLT Burger Roaring Forties 2

I opted for the Roaring Forties Blue burger ($98), because I was rather struck with a mental image of me chowing down whilst wearing a fetching flapper dress and string of pearls in a prohibition-era bar. Alas, that’s the Roaring Twenties and Roaring Forties refers to the type of blue cheese used, which was absolutely delicious. It’s creamily rich, with that heady strong blue cheese bite that was a little bit galling towards the end, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. But the star of the dish was the gloopy gluey goo of balsamic caramelised onions and mushrooms. Soft, tangy, sweet, sharp and sour, this stuff couldn’t have been more addictive had it been laden with MSG.

Since I find it an unfathomable concept that bacon is available and I’m not having it, I added it as an extra topping for $10. Crispy, salty, smoky, these were generously-sized rashers that probably didn’t really compliment the flavours of my burger but IT’S BACON. The only way it could be more irresistible is if Robert Pattinson came bearing it.

All burgers also come with coleslaw (too vinegary and sour) and a pickle that’s inexplicably not inside the bun. I saw most of these lying abandoned, confused and unloved, on people’s cleared plates.

They also do three combo deals, but with less exciting varieties of burger. My boyfriend had the BLT – where it really does stand for bacon, lettuce and tomato this time – which comes with fries and a soft drink for $148. We went for the fat fries; alas, not the steak-cut beauties found in 798 or The Pawn but plain old potato wedges. They came in the trademark BLT paper-lined tin and it was a good-sized portion, tasty but unexceptional.

You can add $25 to upgrade to a milkshake, which is actually a better deal (saving $31, rather than a measly $18). These milkshakes are meals in themselves! We got the Rocky Road, with more chocolate going on than in Willy Wonka’s wildest dreams! It was a creamy, thick, indulgent mix of ice-cream, brownies and blitzed almonds, with no other option than to slurp! Even between the two of us, we could barely get half-way.

I so badly wanted a dessert. Those cupcakes had been calling my name ever since I walked in the premises. There was also a Valrhona Chocolate Praline Cake whispering lovingly to me from the menu. But there was just no room at the inn. My boyfriend had to roll me onto the Star Ferry home.

For premium burgers, I don’t think you can go far wrong with BLT Burger. And if you plan on only ordering a Caesar Salad… just go away.

P.S. No natural place to fit this in, but some waitresses were wearing tops that said ‘If you are what you eat, then I’m quick and easy’. In Hooters perhaps but c’mon BLT, I thought this was a classy joint?!

All BLT Burger locations in Hong Kong:

– Shop 301, 3/F, Ocean Terminal, Harbour City, Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong, 2730 2338
– B224A, Times Square, 1 Matheson Street, Causeway Bay, Hong Kong (note: this branch is much less cramped!), 2506 1500

www.diningconcepts.com/blt_burger/

 

798 Unit & Co Gastropub restaurant review – rub-a-pub-grub

UPDATE: 798 is now closed.

Whilst Hong Kong seems to be getting the hang of pubs (Dickens, Delaneys and Trafalgar are all worth a punt and I’ve heard good things about The Globe… just don’t head to The Pickle & Pelican if you value your stomach), gastropubs are proving a bit more difficult for HK to get its head round.

I’m not looking for a Heston Blumenthal experience. For me, a gastropub means a bit of a fancier setting, a bit of a fancier menu (featuring regular pub grub but with a few twists) and an elevation in the quality of the food. I don’t think I’m shattering many illusions when I divulge that most standard pubs in the UK are operating an only slightly superior variant on “pinging” supermarket ready-meals, especially as many are now run by cut-and-paste chains. With a gastropub, I’m expecting fresh ingredients, some element of cooking as opposed to just sticking something in an oven and an environment that isn’t coated in sticky beer stains. Of course, with such benefits comes a hike in prices – but within reason!

So whither gastropubs in HK? The Pawn isn’t far off the mark, but it’s a la carte menu is just too pricey. I would classify Jimmy’s Kitchen’s menu as pure gastropub, but its staff and its prices seem to be under the illusion that it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant. Frites (run by Concept Creations, who also own the fabulous Tapeo) has the environment down pat, top-notch food, a quality beer selection and would perhaps rank as a gastropub – in Belgium. Good luck looking for a lasagne there! As such, 798 Unit & Co. Gastropub is probably your best bet.

The environment is perfectly-judged. Looming chandeliers on lofty ceilings, chunky dark-wood furniture and squishy sofas, blackboard menus and other quirky little touches. Food is served in hearty, hefty portion sizes, which should be a given in a gastropub.

As for the food, the lunch menu (available between 12-3pm) is spectacularly good value. $88 for three courses plus a drink is fantastic, especially given that you’re in a Western restaurant in the typically pricey Times Square in Causeway Bay (compare with The Pawn, $150 for three courses sans drink). They also do even cheaper sets if you fancy a salad ($78) or sandwiches/pizza ($68).

All this would be meaningless if the food was rubbish. But it isn’t. For my money, 798 does the best fish and chips in Hong Kong. That’s not a claim to be taken lightly but here’s the evidence. It comes wrapped in faux newspaper. This isn’t just a tacky design thing – it helps soak up the grease! So many restaurants here seem unable to comprehend this simple fact and serve you a fish sliming about in its own oil, a sad but inevitable by-product of deep-frying things. It’s served with a load of side condiments, including vinegar, which you could be forgiven for thinking is a prohibited ingredient out here (alas, not Sarsons Malt but red wine vinegar, still better than nothing).

You get a full fillet of fish, not a few strips, and said fish is moist, creamy but still flakes apart expertly. The batter is golden, crispy and has an actual taste (there may be beer involved), as opposed to the anodyne floury sometimes herby stuff most places do. The chips are steak-cut, golden, fluffy on the inside, crispy on the outside. I believe one of the main reasons chips in HK often suck is due to the quality of the spud (have you seen the sad specimens at the local wet market?!) but these ones have a yummy nutty flavour to savour.

[For those interested, I’d rank it alongside The Pawn’s extremely good version in terms of taste but it beats it in terms of presentation and price, even in its a la carte incarnation. And it pisses all over The Chippy from a great height.]

As for the rest of the set, starters are either soup or salad of the day. The rabbit food was underdressed but their soups are lovely. They taste homemade, as if they remembered being a fresh vegetable recently rather than in some dim and distant lifetime. The cauliflower soup was a little watery (a common problem in homemade soups) but the intense flavour came through nicely. It would be nice if you could use some hunks of bread to soak it up but I find 798’s wedges more suitable to propping up wobbly table legs rather than eating.

My auntie went for spaghetti for her main. Here we get a typical ‘gastropub’ twist – the ragu was made with lamb rather than beef. This works better than one of their other twists (for me, the taste and texture of duck just does not work with the taste and texture of lasagne, ok!) and the lamb was sweet, succulent and tender. And there’s lots of it. (I hate when you run out of meat in a pasta, and to keep costs down, it happens quite a lot out here). It’s balanced by a richly appetising ragu, with a heady hit of wine to boot!

No choice for dessert – you get the dessert of the day, although for $20 you can upgrade to an a la carte choice (which are uniformly scrumptious btw). Given the heavy main portions, it’s kept short and sweet. That day, it was a strawberry mousse cake – light and airy mousse, light and airy sponge, topped with a juicy fresh strawberry. Fragrantly sweet rather than overpoweringly so, it’s nothing groundbreaking but goes down a fluffy dreamy treat at the end of the meal.

Any future gastropubs opening in HK would do well to examine 798’s template. No molecular gastronomy, just good honest food at good honest prices. Just try and make it there in time for lunch!

Shop 1203, 12/F Food Forum, Times Square, Causeway Bay, Hong Kong, 2506 0611

Restaurant photo from 798 Unit & Co’s website.

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