It's my last day in Hong Kong. My suitcase is full, so I can't do any more shopping. Which means I don't need to squeeze my American-sized ass into more Hong-Kong-sized fitting rooms or -- worse, much worse -- Hong-Kong-sized pants. (My derriere is totally miffed that an American size 4 or 6 is apparently a 42 -- a large -- in Hong Kong.)
This is all to say that I finally get to eat to my heart's delight.
And how very delighted is my belly today! It's in such a good mood, it's willing to share documentary evidence of its happiness.
|Image Source: I Eat Therefore I Am|
I, of course, was unfazed. I am half-Singaporean and half-Vietnamese/Chinese; I use red pepper in my cooking the way most people use salt.
Bring it on, nameless sichuan restaurant.
Half an hour later, I was sweating like Richard Simmons at the nursing home disco. My tongue felt alternately on fire and -- I know this doesn't seem possible -- painfully numb. Everything tasted like chili -- or, more accurately, like CHILI. Every dish we ordered -- dan dan mien (spicy noodles with meat sauce), sichuan chicken, paper-thinned sliced pork belly, chilled braised eggplant -- was delicious, I think (after a while my taste buds were so scorched I really couldn't tell whether something was yummy or awful). But every dish we ordered was en fuego.
I chugged a glass of iced tea and a bowl of chicken soup, but the burn was persistent.
Nameless sichuan restaurant kicked my ass and made me its bitch.
And I think I liked it.
|Image Source: OpenRice.com|
The "snowflake ice" is created using a special machine that integrates the flavoring right into the ice itself, so that every bite tastes like mango or green tea or chocolate . . . or whichever flavor you choose. Also, the consistency of the dessert is more like a snowflake and less like ice: it's soft, almost creamy in texture, and very light. The best part of the dessert is that you get to select any number of delicious "toppings" (well, more accurately, "bottomings," as they sit under the pile of ice).
I have a huge crush on the mango ice, but they ran out of mango today, so I had to go with the banana flavored ice instead. With it, I got tapioca balls, little cubes of flavored jello, aloe, and -- my personal favorite -- passionfruit pearls. The latter (pictured in the lower right quadrant above) look like the tapioca balls you find in boba tea, but are actually juicy little balls that "pop" when you bite into them.
Wait -- that sounded really dirty.
Anyway, they are passionfruit flavor bombs.
This Belgian waffle, I'm telling you, is unreal. The scent of it fills the entire market section of CitySuper with vanillaliciousness. It's warm, delightfully chewy (not dry and insubstantial like regular waffles), a little sticky, and just perfectly glazed with sugar or honey or nectar of the gods or crack (who knows what it is, it's good). You can order it with Nutella, but I find it scrumptious plain.
And since I was already at CitySuper, I figured I should take a visit to their bakery to carbo-load for my flight tomorrow. The Little Mermaid Bakery makes the most amazing brioche sucre (above right): The brioche is buttery and delicate, but the very best part of it is the little wells in which more butter has been poured. Then the whole thing gets a sanding of sugar and a sugar glaze.
It's a pillow of buttery goodness.
|Image Source: I Eat Therefore I Am|
Something so good though needs to be chased with something equally delicious. So I picked up a few pandan buns from the Toast Box, a Singaporean snack shack, to go with the brioche.
What? I have an EIGHTEEN-hour flight tomorrow. A girl's gotta be prepared.
|Top Image: I Eat Therefore I Am; Bottom Images: Tai Hing Roast|
Before I get on the plane, however, there's still the issue of dinner. Dinner at my grandparents' house is pretty much the same every night. Every night, there's a steamed fish course. Every night, there're two vegetables. Every night, there're two meat dishes, usually a braised dish and a pan-friend one.
But tonight, since it's my last meal, the usual courses were supplemented by char siu (barbecue pork) from Tai Hing, which is widely considered the best Chinese barbecue place in Hong Kong (see my sister's review here).
Tai Hing's barbecue is great, but I probably find it more delicious since I generally don't eat pork back in Boston. (The rules of Chewish living provide that prohibitions against tref foods don't apply when we're traveling in Asia. If you have a porcine aversion in Hong Kong, you'll starve.) I know Americans think they've got a monopoly on BBQ, but I assure you that a really good roast meats place in Asia -- not the gross, red-dyed spareribs you get at fake Chinese restaurants in the States -- can go toe-to-toe with a Memphis barbecue joint and win, Shaolin Master style.
And that's my last day of eating in Hong Kong. Back to Boston, back to lettuce, back to low carbs.