Category Archives: Food

Krob Kreung Krob Ros for Thai food in Astoria, Queens

Posted on by
Reply

I am pretty certain that New York City is the most diverse city in the entire freaking world. The number of languages that are spoken here, especially in Queens, is somewhere as high as 800, the diversity of the socioeconomic demographics is vast, and the variety of cuisines across all its restaurants is likely unsurpassed in the entire world. Of course, that’s my unscientific, no-data backed opinion, but I know that when and if we leave New York City one day, I will be very sad to say goodbye to this diversity in every sense of the word.

Today, during our Saturday food crawl, we were in Astoria, Queens, where we had lunch at Krob Kreung Krob Ros. The name signifies the perfect balance of Thai flavors: sour, sweet, creamy, and salty. The owners opened this spot for those who miss authentic flavors of home-cooked Thai meals, and for those seeking genuine Thai cuisine. So many of the dishes on the menu were things I’d either never seen before or had seen quite sparingly, even across Queens Thai restaurants, which are already quite representative of authentic Thai cuisine. We had tod mun hua plee, or banana blossoms tossed in a red curry and fried into fritters, and a pik kai tod kra thiam, which were fried marinated chicken wings with fried garlic that were unlike any other chicken wings I’d had in my life. The banana blossoms were crunchy on the outside and deliciously meaty inside. The fried chicken wings had a really thin, crunchy breading that was deeply satisfying to bite into. One particularly notable dish was the som tam tod, a friend papaya and carrot salad. The papaya and carrot pieces come out coated in a deep fried batter, and you take each piece by hand and dip it into the sweet, sour, salty lime-based dressing. We had definitely never had that before! We probably overdid it with the fried items, but they were all so unique and different from even the Thai food we usually order that is not pad thai or red curry.

I also really enjoyed the khao hor bai bua siam, the lotus leaf wrapped sticky rice with sweet pork sausage, scallop, jumbo shrimp, shiitake mushroom, salted egg yolk, and cilantro. The rice had a really nice, savory, meaty flavor, and it was really fragrant from being steamed in the lotus leaf. It reminded me of the Thai take of zongzi, or Chinese tamales.

Little gems like Krob Kreung Krob Ros is why I love New York City so much; just when you think you might be tired of it here, a new interesting, homely restaurant opens up to wow your senses and taste buds.

Fun coffee shops during work travel

Posted on by
Reply

What makes work travel so fun is not so much prepping for meetings and transiting through airports and being in Ubers; it’s actually getting to discover and do new things, including eating and drinking new things. When I used to do work travel frequently pre-pandemic, even when I used to visit cities that people would oftentimes say were boring or lackluster, I always managed to find some restaurant or cafe that I liked, and that would be my “me” time to relax and enjoy a fun, new coffee drink or a new local dish.

The place I stumbled upon on my last Boston trip that I knew I wanted to go back to this time around was Phin Coffee House. It happens to be just a few minutes walk away from my customer’s office, and it’s also got a Vietnamese spin to it. This comfortable, trendy cafe has different variations of Vietnamese coffee, a few matcha and hojicha latte options, as well as a decent selection of breakfast and lunch items. They also offer free Wi-Fi, and ample, spacious seating. Last time, I kept it simple and just got the Vietnamese iced coffee since it’s classic. This time, I decided to get their Boston cream latte, which is a creamy Vietnamese iced coffee with your choice of whipped milk. I chose oat, and when it was presented to me, it was almost like a totally whipped coffee drink! I loved it from the very first sip — it was strong, creamy, and not too sweet, but sweet enough. If I’d had more time, I would have wanted to get a second one — that was how good this was.

If I’m lucky, I’ll be back in the next couple months and hope to get this drink again, along with maybe a matcha or hojicha latte, too, and even a quick bite!

Boston: Hello, again. I’m ready to eat you!

Posted on by
Reply

It’s my second time to Boston in six months. I’m here again to meet the same customer I met back in September, and I also had dinner tonight with the same friend I met with back in September. It’s always a fun thing to come back to a familiar city where there are people you know and want to see again. And it’s also especially fun to try new foods here (and revisit both old and new favorites).

When I reached out to my friend to see what she wanted to have for dinner when we met, she told me that I had come at a good time because it’s actually Dine Out Boston the next two weeks. So she sent me the website and suggested I choose a place walking distance from my hotel, and she’d meet me there. I chose a trendy, upscale Mexican spot called Taco Azul, which had recently opened its second location in the historic Beacon Hill area. The menu was very simple: guacamole and queso, freshly fried blue corn tortilla chips, a selection of tacos with freshly made blue corn tortillas, and two dessert options. The drinks were incredible: I had a classic margarita while my friend had a watermelon sugar margarita, and both were extremely well made, with just the right amount of sweet, tart, and alcoholic zing. This margarita was likely the best margarita I’ve had in years. The tortillas for the tacos themselves were so fresh and so delicious; I could have easily eaten just the tortillas on their own and been happy. And the fillings we chose — beef birria, shrimp al pastor, and crispy fish — were well executed and delicious.

If you asked me back in my college years from 2004 to 2008, if I would suggest any Mexican restaurants in Boston, I would have scoffed at you and said that was a crazy idea. Now, Mexican cuisine is taking over New York and Boston, and there seems to be endless options from both the no-frills/cheap end of the spectrum, all the way to the high-end, “tasting menu”-esque restaurants.

Tea preparation: the good vs. the bad

Posted on by
Reply

On Friday during lunch time, I took a break from my coworking space to head over to Matcha Cafe Maiko, a matcha spot close to Kaia’s school that I’ve been meaning to try. I ordered their cold matcha latte with cheese foam. It was carefully whisked with perfectly measured out matcha powder. It was sweetened to 50 percent as I requested. And when I had my first sip, I was obsessed. Was it expensive at $7.62 (that includes tax)? Yes. But I could see the entire process of the drink being made meticulously, and I knew the quality of the ingredients were high. So while it’s an indulgent treat to pay this much for tea, it’s an occasional indulgence I like to have because I think it’s worth it.

Let’s contrast that with Poppy’s Cafe on Henry Street in Brooklyn, where we did our Saturday food crawl this weekend. We popped in there after we had lunch, and Chris suggested we get a hojicha to go. He ordered it and asked for some whole milk in it. Then less than two minutes later, the guy at the cash register says, “Your tea is ready!”

That’s odd, I thought in my head as Chris took the tea. How could it already be done so quickly? Chris took one sip of it as we left the small cafe and told me it tasted weak. I sipped it and felt annoyed immediately. “This wasn’t steeped properly!” I said to him. I took a peek inside the cup under the lid to see that it was a hojicha tea bag that was just steeped in water. They probably dripped in a little whole milk before the bag had the time to steep properly and didn’t really care; they just wanted us to get our drink and get out.

Tea from a good tea bag can still be good if it’s steeped properly and for the adequate amount of time. I almost exclusively only drink loose leaf tea now. The only exceptions to that are when I’m not at home, or if I’m having Dilmah tea bags or powdered tea (matcha or hojicha). But here, they clearly did not care and just added water to a to-go cup, dropped the tea bag in, added some hot water, clamped on the lid, and handed it over. I wasn’t necessarily expecting a hojicha latte made with hojicha powder (which wasn’t an option, and wasn’t what Chris ordered, anyway), but this was just a disrespect to tea and tea preparation in general. Tea is oftentimes misunderstood and thus not prepared properly by a lot of people, but in this case, you’d expect more from a semi trendy cafe on Henry Street in Brooklyn. Just for this, I’d be highly unlikely to patronize this spot ever again.

Manhattan Chinatown in the morning: when everything comes alive, and you tiao (油条) can be discovered made fresh

Posted on by
Reply

I dropped Kaia off at school this morning since I had a 5pm work call that I couldn’t get out of, so Chris picked her up today. Since it’s technically mid-winter recess in New York City this week, kids who are opted in (and paying for) after-school hours can still attend school this week, just that the hours are slightly shorter. Drop-off this week is at 9am (instead of 8:30), and pickup can be no later than 5pm (it’s usually 6pm, but I usually try to pick up between 5-5:10).

Chris has said he prefers doing morning drop off and has gotten into a routine of it. When I have suggested in the past that he make use of that morning drop off time by buying some groceries and baked goods, he’s brushed it off, insisting he doesn’t have time and has a pseudo morning work schedule he has to adhere to. To be fair, he doesn’t really care to explore different shops in Chinatown the way I do, so it’s better that I do these things during the occasional times I do morning drop off. Like any decent sized Chinatown, the real life and energy of Manhattan Chinatown starts early in the morning, when all the produce and meats are getting delivered, when all the bakeries are churning out all their buns and breads and sweets fresh. The really good bakeries open as early as 8am; the shops tend to open around 9. This is the best time to come down here and buy all the freshly made staples for cooking Chinese food at home, such as freshly churned out and steaming hot rice noodles, fresh pressed tofu in endless forms, seitan, and soy milk. By the time I come between 4:30-5pm for school pickup, most of the best stuff has already sold out completely, or they’ve been sitting there, waiting to be purchased all day.

This morning, we arrived in Chinatown a bit early, so I decided to take Kaia into one of my favorite fresh food shops to pick up some things for cooking in the next week. This brought us to Kong Kee Food Corp, which is just a block over from her school. I discovered this spot maybe 10-ish years ago: they make fresh tofu and seitan in endless forms, as well as fresh rice noodles, herbal tea, and soy milk. They distribute to a lot of local supermarkets and restaurants. If you come early in the morning, they have stir fried noodles and rice noodle soup for breakfast that you can carry out. When we arrived, there were already some older ladies who were coming in to purchase breakfast noodles to go. A worker in the back was sitting at a table hand cutting noodles in bulk. Kaia curiously wandered around, looking at all the items in the glass cases and peering up at the female workers. She started giggling when one of them gave her attention; the woman behind the counter was so besotted by her that she took a package of fruit snacks and dangled them out as a gift for her. “So cute!” the woman kept exclaiming.

When I come in to Kong Kee, the items I get the most often are the pressed and five-spiced pressed tofu. I have also previously purchased and enjoyed their fresh rice noodles, which are cut thinly almost like pho noodles, thicker like ho fun/he fun (chow fun noodles), and also in huge sheets for large rice noodle rolls. I’ve also gotten their seitan and enjoyed it. This time, I purchased some seitan (kao fu), five spice pressed tofu as repeat buys. For new items to try, I finally got two sticks of you tiao (the Chinese donut crullers I wanted for jook at home), as morning is the best time to buy these sticks. I also chose a large container of their soy milk. They added some sugar at my request.

Well, according to the Shanghai saying, I already purchased two of the four warriors for Shanghainese breakfast – “四大金刚” Sìdà Jīngāng. The classic Shanghainese brekkie, heavy on the carbs of course, would be these four items: you tiao / Chinese donut stick, ci fan (pressed rice roll), shao bing (Shanghainese flat flaky sesame pancake), and fresh hot soy milk. I can’t wait to have my you tiao later! It’s the first time I’ve ever purchased these sticks whole anywhere in New York City!

When I look at whole long you tiao sticks in Chinese bakeries and food shops, I am reminded of the time shortly after my grandma passed when my mom made a big pot of jook. It was always a treat when we’d have jook at home and also have you tiao to dip into it. The textural contrast between the crisp chewiness of the you tiao against the soft creaminess of the jook was always so comforting and satisfying. My grandma would occasionally buy a bag of these freshly fried sticks from a local bakery, and when we’d have jook at the table, it would be a happy surprise when she’d lay out a plate of the you tiao, already neatly cut into bite sized pieces for us to dunk into our jook bowls. But it was always my grandma who bought them; we never knew what they were even called in Chinese then, and we didn’t know which bakeries to buy them from.

So one day, my mom was determined to resolve this issue. She said we would go out together searching and would find those donut sticks! My mom and I wandered around Clement Street (like San Francisco Richmond District’s mini Chinatown) and went bakery to bakery, peering in to see if anyone sold them. We used our broken Toisan to ask around, but we kept getting negative responses; none of these places made this donut stick. Finally, we got to a bakery off of 6th avenue that had them way in the back, in a big metal bin, all standing upright and tall, waiting to be purchased. We pointed passed the cashier guy and motioned towards the you tiao, and they got excited to have helped us solve our mystery of what it was that we were looking for. In Mandarin, you tiao are literally called “oil sticks/strips,” while in Cantonese, they are known as “oil fried ghosts” or yàuhjagwái. Since then, I’ve never forgotten the name of them. And since then, I’ve also learned that these delicious fried Chinese donut sticks are eaten not just with jook/congee, but also wrapped in fresh rice noodle rolls (a dim sum delight), tucked into Shanghainese shao bing pancakes, and simply ducked into hot soy milk and eaten.

Memories with food are usually the happiest memories from my childhood, but I don’t think that’s unique to me based on all the childhood stories I’ve heard over the years.

Dried scallops – a mother’s show of love

Posted on by
Reply

Growing up in an Asian household, I rarely got complimented. Though I did get told “I love you” quite a lot from my mom, a lot of the time it was hard to really hear and digest that when it was in the midst of a lot of criticisms and comparisons. I will say, though, that the one area where my parents have never, ever failed my brother and me is around feeding us. We’ve always, always had more than plenty of food to eat in the house and lots of variety. And it is always one of their very first questions they ask me when they see or talk to me: “Have you eaten yet?” It’s a classic Chinese/Vietnamese way of greeting someone you care about.

When I graduated from college and moved to New York City, one really sweet and generous thing my mom would do is pack me a one-pound, carefully wrapped box of super premium, extremely pricey dried scallops. They would always be huge, fat, uniform, and perfect. She’d check in with me on calls to see how my stash was going, and when I told her it was getting low, she’d go to her favorite herb shop in San Francisco Chinatown and buy me another pack. She would either have it ready for me to pack when I came home for the holidays, or if she were coming to visit me, she’d pack it in her suitcase and cart it over to me. If you know what I am referring to, you know that this product is likely one of *the* most expensive foods you can cook with in Cantonese cuisine. The highest quality, most beautiful and unblemished dried large scallops, oftentimes from Japan, can be sold for as much as $80-110 USD for a single pound. They are truly worth what they cost, though: dried scallops bring an incredible seafoody, umami burst to anything they are added to. There is really nothing that tastes like them that can mimic the richness they bring any single dish. I would always use them to make Chinese sticky rice, Chinese turnip cake, or savory taro cake, would occasionally add them to stir-fry dishes, and oftentimes would even add them to my jook/congee as a decadent treat. Some particular friends used to tell me that adding dried scallops to congee seemed a bit wasteful given what a premium item they are, but because my grandma and mom would always add a little to their congee, I continued doing this with mine when I had them on hand.

Well, since Kaia has been born, my mom hasn’t bought me any more scallops. In fact, she hasn’t even asked me once how my stash has been looking. Her whole focus now, predictably, is on her only grandchild. All the gifts she packs when I see her are all for Kaia. I’m not complaining — it is what it is, and I get it. Well, I finally used up the last bits of the last box of dried scallops she gave me this time last year to make Chinese sticky rice and radish and taro cakes. So this year, I had to go to a specialty shop to pick up my own because there was no way I was going to make Chinese turnip cake or sticky rice without it. I hesitated when I saw how much the fattest, plumpest, and most beautiful ones in the shop cost: $98/pound. Ouch. I looked at the next tier: $80. And the tier after that was $68. Okay, it’s okay, I told myself. I only need a small amount to make my dishes, so I’m just going to buy a quarter of a pound. I asked for 1/4 pound, the employee measured it out on a scale, priced it out and handed me the bag of my dried gold.

Well, that just did it: that is the single most expensive item I purchased for my Lunar New Year celebrations: about $17.50 for a quarter pound of semi-premium Japanese dried scallops. And I am pretty sure if my mom examined these, she would say these weren’t that good and that I probably got ripped off.

Lunar New Year’s lunch party – lots of food, and lots of people at our place today

Posted on by
Reply

Chris used to have this arbitrary “six person maximum” policy when we would host friends over for meals in the past. I decided to do away with this and basically invited all my friends I could think of to our Lunar New Year party today. I invited 14 people to our place today; two were out of town, one had a baby shower, and one had to work, so in the end, we had 10 guests plus the three of us. This is the most number of people we’ve ever had in our place at a single time.

“It’s going to be a zoo!” Chris grumbled the night before.

This was what I made and served:

Starters:

Luo bo gao – Pan-fried Chinese turnip cake slices

Goi cuon – Garlic shrimp summer rolls with Vietnamese herbs, dipped in nuoc cham

Nem nuong cuon – Nha Trang-style pork paste sausage summer rolls with Vietnamese herbs, dipped in peanut-hoisin sauce

Mains:

Burmese tea leaf salad

Thit kho – Vietnamese braised pork ribs and eggs in coconut water, with a side of pickled carrot and daikon

Chinese whole steamed black sea bass with fermented black beans and garlic

Nuo mi fan – Chinese sticky rice

Yi mian – Longevity noodles with carrot, bell peppers, chives, and king oyster/shiitake mushrooms

Stir-fried garlicky gai lan

Desserts:

Hei zhi ma tang yuan – Glutinous rice balls filled with sweet black sesame served in a brown sugar-ginger soup

Black sesame-swirled ube nian gao / Chinese New Year sticky rice cake

Chinese almond cookies

Other than the cha siu in the sticky rice, I made everything myself, from scratch. It was an endeavor, but I loved every minute of it!

It was boisterous, chaotic, loud, and lots of fun with lots of food, people, and laughter. Kaia had her little friend over to play and run around with. Everyone had plenty of savory and sweet food. I was shocked repeatedly when I found out how much people enjoyed dishes like my black sesame tang yuan; even people like my friend’s husband, who usually scoffs at Asian sweets for being “not too sweet” (“Desserts are supposed to be ‘too sweet’; it’s DESSERT!” he exclaimed). I had people who either don’t eat dessert or don’t eat Asian desserts ask for seconds and even thirds. In the end, I had to boil a second batch of tang yuan! I thought I’d have a ton of frozen tang yuan left over, but I actually only have about six or seven left.

I love preparing food for my people. I spent the last week cooking and preparing food for this. I devised my menu about a month ago with my list of ingredients and action plan. And I loved hearing the comments people made, which included:

“This shit is terrible (referring to my black sesame tang yuan), but if you have more of this shit, can I have some more, please?”

“I don’t normally like desserts, but these (black sesame tang yuan) are incredible. Can I have some more? (Then, when asked how many more): “How many more do you have ready?”

“This sticky rice is so good. It’s like being at dim sum, but even better because yours is packed with all the good stuff!”

“These almond cookies are so addictive! Could you share the recipe?”

“The sea bass was so good! It tasted like the steamed fish I had with black beans in Flushing when I went!”

“I just couldn’t stop eating! I can’t even decide what I liked best!”

“If I ate any more, I definitely would have regretted it. It was like being at a restaurant!”

It was a smart move to get disposable paper plates; it made cleanup so much easier. At the end of the night, the dishwasher was mostly filled with utensils, small serving bowls, and glasses. Now, I’m wondering when the next time will be when I can host another meal at home…

Eating in the Lower East Side in your late 30s

Posted on by
Reply

For most of my adult life, food has been one of the things in the center of my world. I think about what I am going to eat today, tomorrow, next week. I think about things I am going to make, ingredients I am going to buy for things I will make, and what and where I will eat which things. One of the fun parts about living in densely populated places like New York City is seeing how creative restaurants can get with a compact amount of space. It’s a bit dizzying at times to see how small the spaces are that restaurants cram their patrons into, and even more amusing to see how servers manage to get food out to diners without crashing into people and things.

In my early 20s, I always found this fun. I didn’t mind waiting in lines for highly sought after and trendy restaurants. Entering my 30s, I got more into making reservations and not waiting. And once I had a child, I definitely found my patience waning at the idea of queuing up to eat anywhere. Plus, I like having more space. I don’t veto crammed spaces, but I definitely do not seek them out at all.

Last night, I met my friend in the Lower East Side to eat at the super popular Okiboru House of Tsukemen. Tsukemen, as a ramen style, has never really picked up here in New York despite brothy ramen having its moment. I’ve always loved it, though, because with tsukemen, or dipping ramen, you get to appreciate the texture and taste of the noodles themselves more. The broth for dipping is also a lot more concentrated in flavor, so everything just has more of a punch. Okiboru has been a darling with food influencers across social media. When they first opened, people waited hours to eat here, as well as at their sister restaurant, Okiboru House of Udon, which specializes in Himokawa style udon — ultra wide, flat, and bouncy noodles. These are very unlike the long, fat, round udon that most of us have familiarity with. My only hesitancy with eating here was that I really did not want to wait, and I was banking on the fact that it was 26 F tonight, so maybe that would deter the crowds.

I was right. We met at 5:30 for our early dinner and got seated right away. As we slurped our noodles, though, more and more people came in. And with that, the acrobatics of the servers came to light. We saw so many close calls with bowls of broth, buns, and fries nearly getting knocked over because of the tiny counters and the extremely narrow walking space between the counters and the wall seating that it almost became a bit of a spectator sport, watching the servers get through. All it takes is one sudden, unexpected move by a seated patron to cause steaming bowls of broth to spill all over another. This is not a place I would ever take Pookster to, or really, any more than a single person. It just would be too hectic, not enjoyable, far too crowded and tight. Sometimes, you want to go out to eat to… relax. This is a place for a quick conversation to enjoy your food quickly, and then leave.

Of course I loved our tsukemen. This spot is a place I’d willingly go back to just for the quality of the food. There’s just a time and place for everything, and this is not a place that I’d ever think of to luxuriate or relax at all.

Double Crispy, aka Pu Ta Wang Bing Wu, and its popularity explosion

Posted on by
Reply

I’ve been going to Double Crispy Bakery, also known in Chinese as Dan Ta Wang Bing Wu on Grand Street in Manhattan Chinatown, since at least 2018 or 2019. Since 2020, I started going there more and buying things, partly because I love their baked goods, but also because I got really worried during the pandemic that my favorite old-school Chinese businesses in Chinatown wouldn’t survive COVID-19 and the anti-Asian hatred that was stoked back then. Now that Kaia’s school is literally two doors down from Double Crispy, I go there almost every week. Sometimes, it’s to purchase breakfast items for the whole family; other times, it’s to get a treat for Kaia. Kaia’s favorite bao is pork floss bao, for which Double Crispy does an excellent version. I also love their egg custard pineapple bao, their cha siu bao, and several others. Their frozen cai rou bao and ji bao (pork/cabbage and chicken bao) are also delicious and great value. Although I do not buy their Chinese or Portuguese-style egg tarts that often, they do great versions of both (and I suppose they should given their Chinese name). For specialty items, they do a delicious variety of mooncakes throughout the year and amp up the variety and size of moon cakes around Mid-Autumn Moon Festival. I especially like their durian mooncakes. And you can never go wrong with lotus seed paste.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that Double Crispy got featured in the New York Times Cooking section and was in a video they produced that went viral. The video highlights not only the bakery’s intense production of moon cakes, but also the family’s unity, perseverance, and drive to ensure the bakery is successful and that they are producing the very best products for their loyal customers. When I saw it last September, I nearly had tears in my eyes, seeing how much the owner’s sons helped out with their dad’s business and the very clear love they all had for each other and the bakery itself. And since that video came out, the virality was palpable: each day at school pickup when I’d pass by Double Crispy, entire shelves would be wiped clean of their buns, pastries, and breads. It was as though someone had come in and ordered every single darn item on the shelf. I was happy for them and how successful they were; I chuckled to myself when I’d see tourists gathering from outside, confirming this was the same place that was featured in the NYT video, then laugh even more when I saw they weren’t just buying one or two items, but dozens upon dozens of their baked goods.

I walked into the shop today to pick up a loaf of bread and was happy to see that one of the owner’s sons was manning the cash register. I greeted him and congratulated him on the NYT feature and said that I was proud to be a loyal customer for years and years before that video came out last autumn. We made some small talk about the business and how they could barely keep up with demand, and he thanked me for my repeat patronage. And as he bagged up my bread, he neatly wrapped two egg tarts for me and added it in. “This is just a little thanks for your loyalty and support all these years,” the owner’s son said with a big grin. “We wouldn’t be here without customers like you.”

That was so sweet and totally not needed at all; free egg tarts or not, I’d still support them anyway. And if I didn’t, Kaia would just repeatedly run in there and demand every bao on the shelf to eat! One of her favorite things to do on warmer days is to run through their open doors (only open during warmer months, obviously) and point at all the different baos she wants to eat!

Last bites in Guangzhou and back to Hong Kong for juicy buns, bouncy beef balls, more English/Cantonese on menus and signs, and a crab dish that unexpectedly broke the bank

Posted on by
Reply

Guangzhou came and went so quickly that it felt like we blinked and suddenly, it was already time to leave. We woke up earlier than usual this morning for our last breakfast and meal before taking the train to go back to Hong Kong for one night tonight. I got to indulge in my last breakfast buffet of dim sum delights like nuo mi ji (sticky rice with chicken and mushrooms, wrapped in fragrant lotus leaves), nai huang bao (hot egg custard buns), and decorated congee. I also had my last fresh sweet soy milk in Guangdong while dipping a you tiao (fried cruller) stick into it. Hot, fresh, sweet soy milk and a you tiao stick are extremely nostalgic for me, as they always remind me of my early morning walks alone around East China Normal University in Shanghai that summer of 2006, grabbing an early breakfast off street vendor carts and taking in all the chaos and fun of a new country. At that time of my life, I had never left the U.S.; that experience was my very first experience of China, as well as the world outside the U.S. Growing up, I enjoyed sweet soy milk as a stand-alone drink when my mom would buy it fresh from a local market. But we never dipped you tiao stick into them. Instead, when my mom or grandma would buy freshly fried you tiao sticks from a Chinese bakery, they would snip them into bite sized pieces. We’d then toss them into jook/congee for extra indulgence and extra texture/crunch. This seemed to be the Cantonese way of enjoying you tiao sticks. Well, I embrace every which way of eating you tiao sticks as well as drinking freshly pressed soybean milk, so I definitely do not discriminate.

When we originally left Hong Kong on Wednesday to arrive in Guangzhou, the biggest differences I felt immediately were:

  1. Less signs and/or no descriptions in English or even pinyin at times
  2. Squat toilets were the majority; seated toilets were the minority (if any) in a given restroom); most public restrooms here, unless at a nicer establishment, did not even have soap or toilet paper
  3. Cashless payments via WeChat or Alipay in Guangzhou only; virtually no cash, whereas in Hong Kong, endless businesses are cash-only
  4. More Mandarin Chinese spoken in Guangzhou predictably, but still a good amount of Cantonese spoken
  5. No Uber in Guangzhou; we used DiDi

So goodbye to squat toilets for us heading back to Hong Kong, and hello to more English and spoken Cantonese!

After we checked into our hotel, we went out and about again on the MTR, this time to Tsim Sha Shui (or Jian Sha Ju in Mandarin) on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong. We stopped at Cheung Hing Lee, a popular spot for Shanghainese sheng jian bao (fried, thicker skinned soup dumplings) at the recommendation of my friend who lived in Hong Kong for about nine months. The baos were exactly as advertised: thin skinned, super crispy bottoms, lots of clear, clean flavored broth that literally squirted out of the bao with each bite, and tender, fatty, tasty pork inside. And afterwards, we slithered our way into the Haiphong Road Temporary Food Market just a few minutes walk away, where we ate at Tak Fat (De Fa) Beef Ball stall, in what is now a semi dai pai dong.

Dai pai dong is an open-air food stall, and a term that was created in Hong Kong. In Cantonese, the name refers to “big license stall,” and they were historically tucked into alleys, next to buildings and on streets. What makes them fun, delicious, and nostalgic for many Hong Kongers is not only their cheap prices, but the “wok hei” flavor in many of the dishes offered, which were quick to come out and be devoured. In the late 20th century, the Hong Kong government started restricting the operations of dai pai dong to remove them from public streets; there were concerns around hygiene and sanitation. Given all this, many relocated into indoor cooked food markets that the government built, or they shut down altogether. The experience of eating in one, even a “semi” dai pai dong like Haiphong Road Temporary Food Market, feels fun, lively, chaotic, boisterous, and reminds many people of the old-school Hong Kong days when this was pretty much how everyday people ate and mingled with each other. It didn’t matter if you earned pennies or were a millionaire; you were eating at a dai pai dong. Back during our 2015-2016 trip, we ate at one dai pai dong, I believe either in Central or Sheung Wan. But I think this experience was even more fun and chaotic. I loved the hustle and bustle of the place, the quick turnover of the tables, the super fast ordering and serving of food. I even like the way the payment was set up, all centralized at one spot across all stalls. When we got into the eating area, Chris got us a table quickly, but it wasn’t assigned to the food stall I wanted to eat at. When I realized what had happened, I asked one of the servers if we could still eat at that table and order. She said it was fine. But apparently, the server I asked was for Tak Fat, not for the one we did NOT want to eat at. So while she was perfectly fine with it since her business would benefit from our seating arrangement, the place we did not want to eat at was not okay with it. So we ended up having to move tables. It was still very quick, and we were seated at a new table immediately. The hustle was real!

We had two Hong Kong style iced milk teas, one order of beef ball and beef brisket noodle soup, and an order that I was not 100 percent certain what I got, but ended up being exactly what the Chinese said, word for word: Fried chicken egg noodle soup. When this finally arrived a while after our noodle soup and teas came, it was two perfectly fried to order chicken wings and one fried egg on a plate, and a bowl of chicken broth with instant noodles in it. It was kind of hilarious, as I wasn’t totally expecting that, but it was truly a literal translation of the Chinese. It was a typical cha chaan teng meal, and one that Chris found very peculiar. We all enjoyed the chicken wings. The beef balls were very flavorful, super springy and bouncy. The beef brisket was also delicious — melt in your mouth tender and well seasoned. I can still smell the five-spiced / star anise aroma as I am writing this. Kaia really enjoyed the beef broth, and she tried to steal the bowl from me as I was enjoying the beef brisket and beef balls!

Our last meal of the day was at a seafood restaurant closer to our hotel, which I will definitely remember, but not necessarily for culinary or taste reasons. It felt very local and was in an area that had virtually no tourists. Plus, you had to go up a discreet elevator to get to the restaurant. Chris asked me what I wanted to eat as a last dinner before we left, and I told him we hadn’t had any crab, so I’d like to eat Cantonese style crab. Well, I didn’t realize that yet again, even after my first experience with our overpriced steamed whole fish at Shenggengwan Restaurant in Guangzhou, that “market price” can be a very dangerous label on a platter of seafood at any restaurant. I ordered the fried crab with ginger scallion. The sauce was delicious, as was the crab (which I pretty much ate all by myself since Chris thinks crab is just okay; he also hates all the work of getting the crab meat out of the shells and the mess… definitely his dad’s child). It was sweet, juicy, and perfectly cooked. I made a total mess, but in the end, it was enjoyable. Unfortunately, that single crab set us back $160 USD, which I found out when I went to pay the bill. That’s probably the most expensive crab I’d eaten in my entire life! My parents or grandparents NEVER would have paid that much for ginger scallion crab! At least I was on vacation, so I can justify it as a “vacation” expense.

Next time I order “market price,” I am most definitely asking for the price before committing. Ouch. Tasty, but still… ouch.