Hong Kong eats (boy, does it ever!)

One of the great things about having a mom that lives in Hong Kong, is that when I find myself with a free month between the end of semester and the beginning of my summer study abroad program, I can actually say, Hey, why not hit up Hong Kong for a few weeks? While the freedom of a graduate student and the finances of a graduate student sadly don't always match up to make such a proposition possible, the generosity of my mom, aided by her United mileage rewards account, came to the rescue, and I got to spend what turned out to be 2 awesome weeks in the city of my childhood.


How to encapsulate the diversity that is the Hong Kong dining scene? I often tell people that what I love about Hong Kong is that you can have a five minute meal or a 3+ hour meal. You can sit on stools in the street, or in a plush armchair with mile-high windows overlooking the harbor. Your cutlery might consist of chopsticks from the communal container and a roll of toilet paper, or heavy silverware and new plates the second your first one gets the slightest bit dirty. You can cozy up to complete strangers at shared tables, or stick to your known entities at your own table. Interestingly, while Hong Kong and Macau only share 3 Michelin-starred restaurants for the area, that's already enough to encompass this diversity.

Some highlights of my own dining experiences:


Won ton mein (shrimp dumplings and egg noodles) and gai lan (Chinese broccoli) at Mak On's Noodles in Central. The awesome food aside, this restaurant is in what I've now decided is one of my favorites areas of Hong Kong. It's just around the corner from the famed Hong Kong style milk tea place, Lan Fong Yuen, and its neighboring streets are some very cool small alleys filled with fresh produce vendors.
5-minute meal (admittedly, my 5 minute meals -- I went back the next day -- actually lasted a bit longer. I'm a slow eater), shared tables, and chopsticks.



Sunday brunch at Spoon. (Special thanks to my mom's coworker, Charles, and his dad, the manager at Spoon, for pushing our reservation status from waiting list to confirmed). Sunday brunch in Hong Kong is a whole other category of dining in my book, which, for the purposes of this blog entry, might be summed up as fulfilling the 3+ hour, plush armchair and amazing harbor views, heavy silverware, and private table dining categories.


I would also add the category of incredibly good value for the luxury experience. The first glass of champagne and subsequent free-flowing red and white wines are included in the price of brunch; the Thai asparagus with black truffles and amazing beef tartare shown above were but two of the numerous offerings in the appetizer buffet. Cheers to mi madre!



Wet market and seafood lunch at Ap Lei Chau. You buy your produce/ingredients in the wet market downstairs, the fishmonger kills, cleans and bags the fish, and then you bring it upstairs to these "restaurants" that are really nothing more than small storefronts, and tell the cooks how you want it all prepared.


Your fish goes from water to plate in about 30 minutes (depending on how long you browse through the market). Not for the faint of heart, nor those who don't like to think about where their food comes from.
Stools (though not sitting in the street); chopsticks and toilet paper.



Dim sum at Tim Ho Wan. This is where the Michelin star reference comes in, although my family's opinion is that the place is okay, but not anything particularly special, and definitely not worth the wait to try more than once. When I was there with my dad at about 11 AM, the lady gave out numbers for tables saying, We'll honor your ticket any time before 4 pm. We ended up waiting about an hour. Personally, I think the prices and quality would make it a reasonable destination if the wait weren't so long.

Shared tables, slash, tiny tables crammed so close together you might as well be sharing a table. Unfortunately, my dad and I drew the short end of the stick and got seated at the outermost of 3 tables in a row. I had to get up to let people out and in about 4 times throughout my meal.

I've got some other dining experiences to report on, but they don't quite fit into the time/environment dichotomy I've set up here. Which probably just goes to show the danger of thinking in dichotomies...

Kiwiberry

Following up on foods as cultural ambassadors...

People might already associate New Zealand with kiwis, though they're probably thinking of the birds when they do so.* Yet when I think of kiwis, those bright green fleshy fruits, the first thing I think of is, Gosh darnit those things are a pain to peel! No matter how hard you try, you inevitably get some of that brown peachy fuzz (kiwi fuzz?) in your fruit somewhere. And, unless you're a master kiwi peeler, peeling kiwis generally results in a lot of wasted kiwi flesh clinging to the brown fuzzy skin. Word on the street is that the skin is edible, but I've tried before, and let me tell you, it might be edible, but it doesn't go down easy.

If you've never had the privilege of peeling a kiwi, imagine peeling an apple, where the skin has no natural proclivity for separating from the flesh (like, say, in citrus fruits), but where the flesh is soft and yielding (unless hard and unripe, in which case you probably don't want to bother to eat it at all), like a mango. Over the years, I've variously tried to slice the fruit into rounds, then unpeel each round (brown fuzz penetrates to green flesh; peeling still takes off more flesh than necessary); pare skin off flesh with a knife (brown fuzz penetrates to green flesh; hard to take off skin without taking off extra flesh); and, what is probably the most successful (though least adaptable to various serving purposes) method, cut the kiwi in half, then scoop out the flesh with a spoon.

I hardly think, whether technically accurate or not, synonymously associating one's country with an exotic and delicious yet pain-in-the-ass to peel fruit is appealing to anyone. Come to think of it, though, perhaps it is a rather apropos metaphor for New Zealand itself: exotic and beautiful, but, from most places in the world, a pain in the ass to get to.

Enter the kiwiberry, my package for which proclaimed it a "sweet tasting, healthy super snack that is ready to eat... just like a grape!"



And it's true. These little suckers are just like kiwis, sans fuzzy brown skin inconvenience. Rinse, pop in your mouth (or slice to get the full kiwi beauty effect), and you're good to go! Now, if only getting to New Zealand were so easy...




*Then again, maybe not. I'm inclined to believe that more people are familiar with the kiwi fruit rather than the kiwi bird, though, technically speaking, it's the bird that is the symbol for New Zealand, not the fruit.

As American as Apple Pie

Around the time of my last post, my friend Amy came down from New York to visit, a trip that happened to coincide with my birthday. Instead of a birthday cake, however, she came with a Sour Cream Apple Walnut Pie from the Little Pie Company.



People. PEOPLE. I cannot fully express how much I love this pie. I cannot tell you, nor can pictures really do justice to just how amazingly delicious this pie is.* The first time I tasted the gloriousness that is this pie, all I could think was, "Holy hell, this pie is GOOD." Science (and the shop's website) tells me that the amalgamation of crisp apples, brown sugar, cinnamon, and maybe some nutmeg has something to do with all this, but all I ever think is, "Holy hell this pie is GOOD." I've had good apple pies before -- a now-retired apple pie from San Francisco bakery, Just Desserts is legendary in my family, and I used to be addicted to a cafeteria apple pie in high school that had a great French crumb topping -- but none of them have made me say, "Holy hell this pie is GOOD."



Lest you think this a matter of personal taste, Exhibit A: two additional friends also in town for the weekend, skeptical of my profused love for this pie, but willing to indulge me in the partaking of my birthday deliciousness. Sam requested a small slice, nonchalantly took a bite, and then said, "Wow... this is GOOD." Minutes later, both friends were going back for (larger) seconds.



Okay, I said I couldn't fully express how much I love this pie, but I'll try to be more specific beyond just telling you that it's GOOD. There's no mass of syrupy sweet pie goo drowning everything else. The thinly sliced apples (way preferable to big hunks IMHO) are still firm with a little bite, not mushy like some overripe apple that's been sitting on your counter for too long. I have no idea where the sour cream comes in, but if that's what makes this pie so amazing, then I'm not questioning it. I'm not one to generally like nuts in my baked goods either, but if the absence of walnuts changed this pie in any way, I would have none of it.



Which brings me back to my last post, and the "most unloved" foods. Note that neither apples nor pie appear on the list (nor sour cream nor walnuts for that matter). Clearly, then, if any country was looking for a specific food to be its cultural ambassador to the world this would be it. I think adopting this pie as THE pie as in, "As American as apple pie" could even do wonders for internal patriotism. As it is, I'm sometimes skeptical of being labeled, "American" and its attendant connotations, but if someone ever likened me to the Little Pie Company's Sour Cream Apple Walnut Pie, I'd say, "Heck yes, with an oven and a fork at the ready!"

*Disregard the brick-like quality of the pie in these pictures; unfortunately the heated version wasn't quite as photogenic. That said, make no mistake: pictures or no pictures, this pie is delicious hot or cold.

Food diplomacists beware: The 10 Most Unloved Foods

A friend forwarded this to me the other day... perhaps something to keep in mind for governments trying to woo foreigners with their food: avoid these!*

The 10 Most Unloved Foods

*I, of course, happen to love almost half of the items on the list, maybe because I root for the underdog...

BBQ Diplomacy?

I can't decide if I'm further intrigued about this as a case of food diplomacy, or if Reuters just used the catchy title to hook us into what is ultimately a story about one guy's friendship with North Korean diplomats.

Restaurateur wages BBQ diplomacy with N. Korea

I also can't decide if this guy presents an interesting model for citizen diplomacy, or if he just had grandiose visions of being some kind of Cold War-esque spy.

Finally, and I'm only being slightly facetious here, was it the BBQ? And if so, are we talking Texas-style, Carolina mustard, Memphis dry rub, KC Masterpiece, or perhaps some kind of nouveau fashioning (my dad once made some delicious ribs with a blueberry based glaze...)? Or could he just as effectively waged peace with, I don't know... pancakes or pizza or tacos?

Global foodies unite!

Look, another one!

Great Dining Deals in Paris

I'm actually feeling okay about just posting this link without saying much about it because it pretty much captures most of my thoughts on food and the culture of fine dining in itself. I have yet to read any of David Lebovitz's books, but I visit his blog almost every day for the beautiful pictures, witty self-deprecations, and glimpse into the (sweet) life of an American transplant in Paris.

Coincidentally, I also ran across this interview with "celebrity" chef Thomas Keller, in which he asserts that diners across the country (like NYC vs. Napa valley) don't really differ from one another, "because when you're dealing at that high-end level, it's the same type of client. It's the person that appreciates the quality."

Thomas Keller on Running a Culinary Empire
(you may have to register to read the whole interview)

Which all, I think, speaks to a culture of fine dining and haute cuisine specifically, as well as a culture of foodie-ism more generally, that transcends geographical locations and even national cultures. Keller's empire doesn't yet extend outside the United States, and I'd be intrigued to see if his theory about high-end diners might change once it did. But even though national cultures might value food differently, I think he's onto something. Perhaps we can start thinking of foodies around the world as their own diaspora (can you have a diaspora without an originating homeland?), united in the imagined nation-state of deliciousness.

But only if our (imagined) national dish can be the strawberry ice cream with peanut brittle and brownie from Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc, the cookbook for which I, also coincidentally, just received as an early birthday gift yesterday.



*Full disclosure: Thomas Keller has yet to pay me to eat at Ad Hoc, but should he do so one day, I would accept in a heartbeat.

Know Thyself

When the idea of keeping a blog to track my own explorations of the ways in which food and culture and diplomacy intersect each other (with some identity, branding, and critical analysis thrown in) first germinated in my mind, I knew the biggest challenge was going to be myself. Specifically the part of me that can barely write a one-paragraph e-mail without rewriting each sentence 5+ times, without stopping after a few words to reread the whole thing to make sure the tone and flow are what I want it to be, without typing, then deleting, then retyping the same word several times before finally deciding that that is indeed the word I want to use. You know the idea of "dashing off" an e-mail or a blog post or even a quick text message? Yeah, doesn't happen with me.*

Add to that my desire to live up to the great writing, analysis, and wit of some of my favorite blogs, as well as the intense intimidation of knowing that at least a few of my colleagues who, with the same amount (if not more) of work and commitments and social lives, make this whole blogging thing look incredibly easy are, indeed, reading my blog, and perhaps you can sympathize with the psychological barriers that prevent me from actually, well... blogging.

That said, I also hate to fall into the "starts a blog, posts somewhat regularly for a few weeks, and then falls off the face of the earth" camp. So, here is my compromise: in an attempt to at least keep this blog train going at some sort of speed, I'm going to resign myself to only posting links from time to time, without the full-blown analysis that I would love to accompany said links. I'm still hoping, of course, that some analysis and original thoughts and ruminations can accompany these things from time to time, but if I spread some of these things and leave it up to you to come to your own conclusions (which I'm sure will be brilliant with or without my accompanying commentary), at least I don't have to sacrifice entirely the notion of blogging -- which I still aspire to embody in the full sense of the term at some point in the future.

With that, I would be incredibly remiss not to at least repost this recent blog by Paul Rockower on South Korea's missed opportunity in harnessing the power of the Kogi Taco Truck to further its gastrodiplomacy aims. (And thanks for following me now, Paul!). It would seem that something about LA is particularly conducive to these types of culinary fusions of cultures. The LA Times recently did a piece on the multitude of cultural appropriations of "pizza" on offer in the city of Angels, and while these specimens hardly come close to meeting DOC requirements**, my tastebuds aren't about to quibble with "authenticity". (For Paul's more timely assessment of these offerings, see here).

*Actually, it does happen sometimes, but it often involves me having to talk aloud as I write. Somehow saying things aloud curbs the revisionist in me...

**Link leads to my fave pizza place in DC, which offers both DOC and and non-DOC pizzas, both of which are crazy delicious.