The last station on the Asia express line was Hong Kong.
Sunday afternoons in Hong Kong mean walking through covered subway overpasses filled with people just sitting around. These campers, who line their "spots" with cleverly folded cardboard boxes, blankets, and vinyl tarp, are almost entirely female, youngish, sturdy, and speak many languages besides the standard Cantonese. I think they make up the army of domestic workers in Hong Kong island who get Sunday off.
Hong Kong, with its impeccable English signage, open vibe, and plethora of dining options, is primarily a working person's city. I met with a friend in investment banking and another friend working with some bureau. Both put in long hours to maintain a decent standard of living in a city that is, shall we say, very space efficient.
My MO was to ride the ferry a bunch (yay ferries!) and eat dimsum. The mission was entirely successful.
TimeOut Hong Kong pointed me to a great corner dimsum place near our hotel in Mongkok, a little whiles away from the hustle and bustle of Nathan Road. And so it was that I decisively ordered the pork buns at Tim Ho Wan, after reading about them in a very fine TO article that described these buns as something special. If you are in Mongkok, I urge you to try it out. Don't worry about the line; it moves faster than it looks.
Wow, these were not like any other pork buns. But they were very familiar nonetheless. Instead of fluffy yeast bread, this "bun" was a shortening and buttermilk biscuit. With pork inside. And a sugar topping. It was at once Dixie and Cantonese. I don't speak with the drawl, but growing up with real biscuits and gravy is a privilege; so is cutting one's teeth on char siu. I told my partner in crime that I would never, ever eat a pork bun that was as good. It was a perfect reconciliation of my love for Southern food and my love of dimsum. And the next time I make buttermilk biscuits, I see no reason why I shouldn't also throw in some cantonese bbq pork. Such a combo makes me happy to be alive.
If Chinese culture and American culture were circles of a Venn Diagram, I think "country: banjos, mountain people, fallen confederations" would be in the intersecting section of both. Having biscuits in China made me recall the first time I met a friend's dad, who is very proud to be Chinese. I asked him who his favorite musician is, expecting to hear of a Shanghainese or maybe a mainland singer. He said, with no irony, John Denver. It's a small world.
No comments:
Post a Comment