Introduction

Last month I briefly visited Hong Kong. Hong Kong one of the world’s more vibrant, cosmopolitan cities, and if you hang out in the parts of the city that are the haunts of what might be described as “international professionals”, it is easy to dine in the same sorts of restaurants, drink in the same sorts of bars while watching Premiership football, and check your e-mail in the same sorts of coffee shops that one does in London. I don’t mean to disparage these parts of town – in relatively few cities are they as well developed as Hong Kong, and I like them a great deal. And they do have local colour, but the international colour is probably stronger than the local colour. Many of the restaurants might even be Chinese, but trendy restaurants are trendy in the same way that trendy restaurants are trendy elsewhere.

A Different Side: Exploring Kowloon City

But there is more to the city than that. I like to explore, and on my final morning in Hong Kong, I found myself in the neighbourhood of Kowloon City. This is a neighbourhood full of people doing the sort of essential but unglamorous work that holds the city together. It is full of mechanical workshops fixing things from cars to clocks to washing machines, little bits of light industry, bakeries, food markets, and various other such things.

A Unique Neighborhood with Rich History

It was lunchtime, and I was looking for something quite specific – a restaurant where local people come to have Dim Sum for lunch, and where they sit and have tea at various other times of day. Hong Kong is full of such places. That said, this was initially not that easy to find. Kowloon City is not a place where international professionals hang out, nor is it a place that tourists visit much, but it is, in a way, quite an international neighbourhood nonetheless. It is close to the location of the old, now closed, Kai Tak airport, and it used to provide a variety of support services for the airport, from mechanical (which may explain the preponderence of mecahnical repair shops) to culinary (a well known Kowloon City bakery used to sell custard tarts to people working at and travelling through the airport practically by the truckload).

One consequence of this airport-related internationality is that Kowloon City is famous for its Thai restaurants. Kowloon City was also right next to the now-demolished Walled City, which in colonial days was never technically part of China proper, and which was thus a den of drug dealing, prostitution, and illegal dentistry where the police and the law could not reach. This certainly added a certain colour to local neighbourhoods as well,

Kowloon City included.l.

But I didn’t want Thai food. I wanted ordinary day-to-day Cantonese cuisine. Which, after wandering down a few streets, I found. I stuck my head in the doorway of a restaurant, and suddenly I was greeted warmly by an elderly Chinese gentleman who, after ascertaining that I was indeed looking for lunch, insisted I come in. He sat me down at a table intended for about six people – it was a little late for lunch and the restaurant was lively but not full – and quickly asked me what kind of tea I wanted and went off and asked some other staff to get it for me.

He then asked if I wanted Dim Sum (I did) and directed me over to the various carts containing it that were at a corner of the room. I got some food and tucked in. It was excellent, the Sui Mai pork dumplings, the prawn dumplings, and the pork buns being particularly good.

A Social Hub, Not Just a Restaurant

This restaurant performed a social function equivalent to a French cafe. Local people caught up with one another and chatted over food and tea. People joked with people at other tables, and were quite eager to chat with me also, warning me if the food was likely to be hot, asking me if I liked it, and just seemingly making sure I was having a good time. The elderly gentleman who had greeted me asked if he could join me at my table, sat down, and praised me on my chopstick skills, asking me if I had Chinese friends who had taught me how to use them properly.

I answered in the affirmative, explaining that I had a friend from Taiwan. While I indeed did have a Taiwanese friend when I was at Cambridge, and he did indeed cook much fine food, he did not instruct me in the use of chopsticks. And in any event, my host in the restaurant was essentially just being polite.

After chatting to me a bit, the gentleman wished the people at the other tables a good day (at least I presume he did – I do not speak Cantonese), told me he hoped I enjoyed my meal, and left the restaurant. A younger man (presumably his son) had been doing most of the actual work of running the restaurant, and he later helped me settle my bill, tidied up my table, and thanked me as I left the restaurant.

Conclusion

Now this was much more fun than a restaurant in a tourist part of town, or an “international trendy” restaurant in Hollywood Road. What I was struck by, though, was just how the way in which the restaurant worked was so exactly like what one encounters in family-owned restaurants in other places, particularly Italy. The owner of the restaurant is greeting customers at the door, wandering around chatting to them, and making sure his regulars are happy. The younger members of the family are doing the actual work. And the warm, friendly atmosphere inside. And of course, the delicious, day-to-day food. From a culinary perspective, my trip to Hong Kong ended well.