Tucked amid the pastel-coloured tong lau (historic tenement buildings dating back to the 20th century), the street stalls selling gadgets and other knickknacks are still waking up in Sham Shui Po when I arrive. “We used to say this was one of the enclaves that had escaped urban renewal. We love it because there’s such a community spirit,” explains Cecilia Leung, co-founder of Hong Kong Foodie Tasting Tours, who peppers her dine-around experiences with historical details.
In recent years, this district, one of the city’s oldest, has seen some of its heritage architecture torn down to make way for new development, but it still retains a retro, working-class character. I’ve come to Hong Kong to revel in the comfort-food flavours I wistfully associate with childhood, and there’s no more classic way to start than here, with a bo lo bao (pineapple bun) still warm from the oven, and a steaming cup of nai cha (HK-style milk tea).
The pineapple bun and HK-style milk tea are both beloved staples of Hong Kong’s intangible cultural heritage.
Wing Sze Tang
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“They bake everything on-site and really monitor how much they’re selling. When they’re almost sold out, they start baking more, so the pineapple buns are always fresh,” says Leung as we settle in for breakfast at Kowloon Restaurant, a quintessential cha chaan teng (a casual, café-style joint that translates to “tea restaurant”).
Both the pineapple bun and milk tea are beloved staples of Hong Kong’s intangible cultural heritage. Western-style foods were once a luxury inaccessible to the general populace here, so the bun originated in the 1940s as an affordable, homegrown take on a Western pastry, made soft and fluffy to suit the local palate. There’s no actual pineapple; the name comes from the pattern of its golden crust.
HK-style milk tea being made at Kowloon Restaurant in Sham Shui Po.
Wing Sze Tang
Similarly, milk tea has a cross-cultural backstory: It borrows from a British love of tea, instilled in the colonial era, but it’s brewed with a technique uniquely Hong Kong’s, with leaves traditionally filtered through cloth resembling a silk stocking. The richly steeped result is sweetened with evaporated or condensed milk, and I can rarely find a version in Toronto that’s as satisfying as it is here.
There’s something intensely nostalgic about visiting Hong Kong, maybe because historic waves of migration have left people all over the world who know it through fading memories. So many of us landed in Canada that Hong Kong’s flag carrier, Cathay Pacific, just marked 40 years of flying to and from Vancouver — its first North American nonstop route. My late father grew up in Hong Kong, and the city is like a language I only half-understand.
There’s also a palpable feeling that what’s here today could be gone tomorrow. This isn’t new, but the pandemic’s impact on little, labourious eateries with already noodle-thin margins didn’t help. As I dive into a bowl of hearty, unreasonably inexpensive watercress and pork dumplings at another stop on Leung’s tour, I watch the women on staff prep them fresh at a nearby table, a ritual I’ve never had the patience to learn.
Leung brings me to a small restaurant that Anthony Bourdain visited for his 2018 Hong Kong episode of “Parts Unknown,” where he mourned disappearing traditions. There are hardly any places left in the city still doing it like Lau Sum Kee.
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The third-generation, family-run business makes jook sing noodles the old, time-consuming (and painful) way: kneading from-scratch dough with a bamboo pole, which entails riding the cane as if it were a particularly awkward pony. The effort yields springy, more al dente egg noodles, which you can enjoy simply with dried egg roe.
While I could happily spend my whole trip eating wonton mein, it’s time to explore the other end of the city’s high-low dining. Among the new openings is Café Bau, from restaurateur, chef and MasterChef Canada judge Alvin Leung. The dishes are presented with theatrical flair; the whole-roasted Ping Yuen yellow chicken arrives with tendrils of smoke wafting, ready for its Insta close-up (before it’s spirited away to be carved).
Despite the menu being officially described as “Western fine dining,” there’s obvious Hong Kong pride, with almost all ingredients being locally sourced. The signature bird is delivered daily straight from the farm. It’s served with fluffy Yi O rice, cultivated on Lantau Island in paddy fields watered by mountain streams. I’m heartened to see that even small details pay tribute to the traditional; the first-pressed soy sauce comes from Mee Chun Canning Co., a century-old local label that has remained faithful to natural brewing with its sun-dried method (even though the made-by-machine way is faster).
The longest line I encounter on this trip isn’t for a shiny, new kid on the block, however. When I arrive at Australia Dairy Company, the queue is snaking around the corner but moving briskly — there’s no dawdling while dining here. Despite the name, it’s a homegrown institution and one of the city’s most famous cha chaan tengs, dating back to 1970.
The lightning-quick service is no-nonsense (some say rude). The prices are a deal, the bowls slightly chipped, the small tables crowded with young Hongkongers. Showing no attention to pretty presentation, the dishes are the stuff of old-school HK cafés: macaroni in chicken soup topped with ham; toast served with a mess of scrambled eggs, basic-looking but famously velvety.
The steamed egg pudding is one of the specialties inspiring lineups at Australia Dairy Company.
Wing Sze Tang
I order another house specialty, the silky steamed egg pudding, savouring a sense of the familiar. I think about why this restaurant has remained so enduringly popular, the bustle unflagging after decades, and conclude it’s because it has endured.
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Colonial-era Hong Kong was popularly described as “a borrowed place on borrowed time,” and the city still feels like it’s always on the cusp of change. Despite that — or because of it — an appetite for the nostalgic runs deep.
Wing Sze Tang travelled as a guest of the Hong Kong Tourism Board and Cathay Pacific, which did not review or approve this article.
If you go
How to get there:Cathay Pacific currently operates the only nonstop flights from Toronto to Hong Kong (15 hours, 50 minutes). On your way home, if you’re lucky enough to have access to the airline’s swanky, business-class lounges at HKG, dining at the popular Noodle Bar for one last wistful meal before boarding is a must.
Where to stay: Opened in 2018,the Murray is an upscale hotel with little resemblance to its staid former life as a government office building. The rooms are spacious and well-appointed in contemporary style, and its address in Central is prime: the Peak Tram, which will escort you to the city’s highest point, is practically next door.
What else to do: To see a new side of Hong Kong, visit the West Kowloon Cultural District, a buzzy arts destination set on 40 acres of reclaimed land. The impressive venues include the M+ museum of contemporary visual culture, where the 2024 exhibitions span everything from architecture to couture.
Fashion is also the draw at the K11 Musea complex, in the new Victoria Dockside quarter, where you can shop luxury labels, dine at upscale restaurants (including Niras, the sister spot of Bangkok’s Michelin-starred Le Du) and admire gallery-worthy art displayed throughout.
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