Chiu Chow Cuisine, Hong Kong

Aside from dumplings at dim sum packed with peanuts, Chiu Chow cuisine isn't one I remember trying. Dad was excited about the prospect - "goose blood!" which filled me with a slight apprehension.

Sheung Hing restaurant is a no-frills affair but reputedly very good for this cuisine. Typically of the cuisine, little thimble-sized cups of tea are served as we sat down. We kicked off with the dumplings, fried, which were perfectly nice. The goose blood with pieces of squid turned up; annoyingly, I forgot to take a photo of it. It had the texture of soft silken tofu, and the flavour, slightly iron-rich was mild. I enjoyed it far more than I thought I would.

The dishes then arrived in quick succession and our table groaned under the weight of it all. Baby oyster congee was very different to Cantonese congee; rather than thick and slightly gloopy, it was more of a rice soup, some of the grains still intact. Little baby oysters along with minced pork bobbed around and gave the soup a subtle seafood flavour and were sweet in the mouth.

Steamed goose, resting atop cubes of fried tofu was excellent. Moist, tender and a flavourful strip of fat, dribbling all its juices onto the sponge-like tofu underneath.

Surf clams were served in their shell. The flesh was sweet and chewy, coated lightly with a black bean sauce. It was a shame more shells were empty than I'd have liked.

A soup of skinned mung beans, on the house, was hot, sweet and slightly bland.

These taro sticks, coated in sugar and deep fried were intensely sweet. I really dislike taro as a dessert but stuffed one down in politeness. My teeth ached a bit afterwards.

Far more to my taste were these crystal balls, also served hot and filled with either yellow bean paste or red bean paste. They were little squidgy balls of joy.

This was one of the best meals we ate in Hong Kong; that baby oyster congee was such a great balance of meatiness, tastes of the sea and light in flavour. Now, where can I find Chiu Chow in London?

Sheung Hing Chiu Chow Restaurant

29 Queen's Road West,
Hong Kong

Noodle Frenzy

It's impossible to go to Hong Kong and not eat your body weight in noodles. Frankly, I'd be seriously disappointed if I didn't do so. A favourite of mine is ngau lam ho fun, or beef brisket soup noodles, the wide flat rice ones. I was encouraged to visit Kau Kee for a decent version; at 7pm on a Saturday night, they had sadly run out of ho fun. Vermicelli noodles made a good enough substitute. The beef was tender, strands falling apart and the curry soup broth rich and oily. Pieces of beef tendon gave a good squidgy texture contrast. For roughly £4 with a milk tea it was terribly good value.

Kau Kee

G/F, 21 Gough Street
Central



This particular noodle place was located right opposite our hotel in Western, on Centre Street. I don't have the exact address (I'm guessing it's 6 - 14 by the sign above) but it was newly opened. We popped in for breakfast. The menu is dedicated to noodle soups; pork, beef or fish. Our waitress told us they were famous for the pork, so I elected to have ho fun with pork lung, heart, tongue and intestine (no liver please), topped with some seaweed. The broth was light, the meats giving a great textures of chewiness with the slippery ho fun. A fine breakfast. A side portion of crispy fish skin was really moreish; the pieces crackled in the soup to soften slightly. Squid balls, fish cake and fish won ton were equally excellent; great, bouncy textures. Since returning I've found my bowl of muesli, eaten al desko, to be a tear-inducing bump back to reality when compared with this.

We had this dish a couple of times, it's quite common. Cold shredded chicken atop cold rice noodles in a peanut sauce. Cooling, creamy and light.

More beef, this time at Mak's Noodle. Tendon and brisket again, the brisket with some excellent prawn wontons. Silky skins and packed full of the seafood, they seemed a touch incongruous with the beef but still went well together. We also ordered a dish of noodles sprinkled with prawn roe; served with a little bowl of soup to moisten it, it was so tasty. Very prawny and the noodles were wonderfully springy and elastic. It was a messy business eating it all - in fact, all noodle soups are, and I came back with a suitcase full of soup-splattered clothes.

Mak's Noodle

G/F, 77 Wellington Street,
Lan Kwai Fong,
Central

Yung Kee - Roast Goose & Century Eggs in Hong Kong

From one Michelin starred joint to the next, this time entirely different in both character and style. My mum first laughed at me when I whipped out my list and suggested we go to Yung Kee for a dinner; "I used to get my takeaway lunches from here when I was a girl!".

Situated in the busy and bustling night life of Lan Kwai Fong, it is huge. Set over two floors, it is typically Chinese in style. Large round tables, loud chatter and plain unfussy furnishings.

We came here for two things really, what Yung Kee are known for. Roast goose is surprisingly difficult to find in London; when my mum asked why they didn't do it at a Chinese restaurant, we were told they weren't allowed to and it was something to do with legalities - can anyone confirm? - so we were very excited to get this on the table. The goose with it's sweet, crisp skin yielded to a soft layer of fat and slightly gamey, extremely moreish meat. Goose is usually quite a rich and filling meat due to the bird's fat content but I could have easily munched through the entire plate myself.

Century eggs were fine specimens. Served with sweet pickled ginger, the yolks were runny and gooey, a sure sign of top quality. They didn't have that slightly off-putting ammonia-like overtly eggy flavour either, which was a relief.

A mere two dishes for the three of us would have been a bit silly so we supplemented our meal with some fried scallops served with vegetables. Nothing earth-shattering, just fine. Sweet, tender scallops atop crunchy vegetables, this concluded our meal nicely.

From what I've seen, Michelin starred places in Hong Kong are far different to our own in London. Service doesn't seem to be taken much in account; while proficient, it wasn't particularly attentive.

Poor Mum choked a little upon arrival of the bill, her eyes widened in horror. "HK$220 (around £20) for half a roast goose?! When I was a girl....".

Yung Kee

32-40 Wellington Street,
Lan Kwai Fong,
Hong Kong

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Dim Sum in Hong Kong

It's been 12 years since I left Hong Kong, my place of birth, and I haven't been back until last week. It was a whirlwind of visiting friends and family. And eating, of course. Lots of eating.

I had compiled a list of restaurants to eat at, at the advice of @supercharz and Catty, who had visited recently. One place I was dying to try was Tim Ho Wun, a 30 seater Michelin starred dim sum restaurant that did not take bookings and was famed for it's long queues and bargain prices.

We came here on our penultimate day with some trepidation; everyone we had previously met up with, residents of Hong Kong, had never heard of it. Even taxi drivers my mother asked looked somewhat baffled. We arrived at 9am and there wasn't a queue to be seen. It didn't open till 10am, so we sat ourselves strategically at the tea shop next door, slurping up hot milk tea and slowly melting into a puddle of sweat in the humidity. Sure enough, a queue started to form and we leapt from our plastic stools, pleased as punch to be second in line. 40 minutes later, we were in.

Baked char siu bun with a sweet topping, or more commonly known as 'polo char siu bao', was a balance of sweet and salty. The sweet topping had a great crust giving way to flaky pastry and char siu, great chunks of it.

'Loh bak goh', or turnip cake was expertly made. Wibbly wobbly, soft and very delicate, it had none of the glueyness that most have; it seemed like it was made with minimal flour and maximum daikon / mooli. Globules of it slipped off my chopsticks as I tried to greedily shovel it in.

Steamed rice with pork and dried shrimp was drizzled with soy sauce on serving and was so good we had to order another, this time with beef and topped with an egg.

Cheung fun (rice noodle) stuffed with beef and another serving filled with prawns were silky smooth and probably the best version I've had to date. I was only disappointed that they didn't have the version stuffed with fried dough stick. Har gao and siu mai, those staples of dim sum meals were also expertly made and drew gasps of appreciation from us all.

Beef balls, usually an unappetising grey were nicely pink and bouncy, retaining a great flavour with juiciness. Dipped in Worcester sauce for an added tang, these were one of my favourite.

Teochow dumplings, filled with peanuts and crunchy green vegetables were far superior version to the ones I've tried before. The skins, which can sometimes be sticky and gelatinous were thin and silky, contrasting nicely with the crunch within.

Stuffed to the brim, our waitress urged us to try their desserts, said to be the restaurant's speciality. Jelly cubes filled with berries and herb-like strands were pleasant enough but had a hint of chlorine about it.

Far tastier was the black truffle milk pudding. Truffles are something I associate more with European dishes, but it worked well here. The earthiness of the truffle worked surprisingly well with the sweetness of the milk custard. A bargain at HK$36, two desserts each was perhaps over the top and brought our bill from a laughable $171 (around £16) to $370 (around £34). All for four people. Incredible.

Is this the cheapest Michelin starred restaurant? Most probably. It has none of the characteristics of any other starred establishments I've been to; wedged into a bench next to a wall, the waitress barked orders at us to wedge even closer so that they could get through. No tablecloths, no fripperies, but what they did have was excellent dim sum, freshly made and we left with (disgustingly) full bellies and smiles on our faces.

I must admit, I had a bit of a smirk at the enormous queue when we left.

Tim Ho Wun

Shop 8
Taui Yuen Mansion Phase 2,
2 - 20 Kwon Wa Street
Mong Kok

Grilled Pineapple Salsa

I've been big into my salads at barbeques recently. This red onion and pomegranate salad is now a regular feature, and after having made this salsa, I imagine it will be too. Gone are the days of sweaty supermarket coleslaw, mayonnaise-laden claggy potato salads and a bowl of wilted lettuce to slap in your burger bun as a token gesture. No no, it's all about fresh, colourful and vibrant sides to garnish your plate.

Fresh pineapple has always been a favourite of mine. Dressed with mint, it makes a refreshing summer snack and dipped in salt and chilli, a moreish treat. Nicaraguan pineapples, their flesh snowy white, were intensely sweet and blended with water to make a thick juice, were a perfect way to start the day. Barbequing the pineapple makes them sweeter, the heat caramelising the sugars inside the meat. Chopped roughly into Asian flavourings, it made a great accompaniment to grilled mackerel, the sweet and tart flavours contrasting with the rich, oily fish. This one I made was rather fiery which suited us fine, but do test your chillis before you lob them in. Of course, you don't have to lug the barbeque out; a griddle pan will also do the trick.

Grilled Pineapple Salsa

Makes a huge bowl that satisfied 10

2 pineapples
4 red chillis (or more, or less, to taste)
A large bunch of coriander
4 spring onions
1 lime
Fish sauce, to taste

Cut the sides off the pineapple and slice into large pieces through the width. Place the slices on the hot barbeque and grill for 6 - 7 minutes each side so that they are well scorched. When cooled, slice around the hard core and chop into chunks. Add to a large bowl with the chillies, chopped finely. Slice the spring onions on the diagonal and throw them in, along with the bunch of coriander, chopped roughly. Dress with the juice of the lime, and add glugs of fish sauce, tasting after each one, so that you get a nice sweet, salty and sour balance.

Stuffed Barbequed Squid

Now that summer is upon us, the barbeque gets a serious firing up. A perfect way to spend a lazy Saturday or Sunday, I sometimes struggle to see past the usual burgers, steaks, chicken drumsticks and kebabs. Often it can turn into a total meatfest. Recently though, we've been a bit more creative. Baby octopus, marinated in paprika, lemon juice and garlic get skewered, drizzled with oil and slapped on the hot grill so that it's tentacles curl up and you're left with juicy bodies with a bit of crunch. Razor clams have featured, the heat making their shells slowly open for the sweet tender meat to then be chopped roughly and dressed with lemon and olive oil.

I usually marinate squid in a citrus with some flavourings, score them and slap them on but have recently taken to stuffing them. Their little bodies, skewered closed with cocktail sticks become the perfect encasing for the fillings; able to withstand quite a high heat,  they burst messily over your plate as you slice them. You can really make up the stuffing as you go along, but I think it's best to have some sort of grain in there to soak up all the juices. These are flavoured with chipotle and ancho chillis, so the rice was smoky and fiery all at once.

Dried ancho poblano chillis, which you can buy online here, are possibly my new favourite thing. It's a shame they don't come cheap but they have an intense fruity flavour while keeping a mild heat. Soaked in hot water, they collapse softly making them easy to chop or puree into a sauce.

Stuffed Baby Squid

1kg baby squid (I buy mine frozen from the Chinese supermarket - at £4.50 / kg they are quite a bargain)
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
2 sticks of celery
1 dried ancho poblano chilli
1 dried chipotle chilli
1 tbsp tomato puree
1 lime
100gr wild rice
A handful of coriander
Salt & pepper
Cocktail sticks

Soak the cocktail sticks in cold water - this prevents them from burning on the barbeque. Bring a small pan of water to boil, and soak the dried chillis in the hot water in another bowl.

Dice the onions and celery and mince the garlic. In a frying pan, add a glug of cooking oil and cook slowly until softened and golden. Drain the chillis and chop finely, adding them to the onion mixture. Fry slowly for about 5 or 10 minutes. Add the tomato puree and the rice, stirring to coat. Add 100ml water and bring to the boil. Simmer for 10 minutes, stirring every so often; if it's looking dry add more water. Wild rice is very forgiving so you don't need exact measurements of water. Simmer for another 10 minutes until the grains are tender and the mixture is moist but not sloppy. Take off the heat and season generously with salt and pepper. Squeeze in the juice of the lime and add the coriander, chopped finely. Leave to cool.

Meanwhile, remove the tentacles from the squid and chop finely. When the rice mixture is cold, stir the tentacles through. Stuff the rice into the squid using a teaspoon, carefully, and secure with a cocktail stick. Fire up your barbeque and when your coals are white, oil the squid and slap them on for 3 minutes or so each side.

Steamed Pork Belly With Lily Buds

It looks like a great hunk of gloop, doesn't it?

A packet of dried lily buds has been sat in my cupboard for months, waiting for me to do something with it. After an appeal for help, a friend sent me a scan of a recipe book he picked up in Malaysia that consists only of pork belly recipes, and using 50gr of the strands meant I could get rid of at least half a packet. 

I've used this method of cooking pork belly before. It's lengthy and involves multiple stages of cooking, but the end dish results in tender meat, silky fat and subtle flavours. It's not for the faint of heart; deep frying a piece of pork belly usually results in a fair amount of hot oil being spat all over the kitchen. Squeals can be heard emanating from my terrified but salivating mouth.After an initial boiling to rid the meat of impurities and scum, it is then dried and slid into a wok of bubbling oil until it takes on a gorgeous caramel colour.

Next, it is packed snugly into a bowl with various aromatics, to be set into a steamer to gently stew away until it becomes a dish that can be pulled apart by a deft hand with chopsticks - or in my case, tugged apart messily with a knife and fork.

The deep frying intensifies the porky flavour of the skin, while steaming makes sure that the skin goes from slightly tough and crisp to gelatinous and yielding in the mouth. Most European recipes prize the crisp crackling on pork belly, but Chinese recipes are not so rigid. Pig skin sliding down around the plate and eventually down the throat is just as satisfying as a fragile shatter beneath the teeth. The lily buds lend a floral Chinese herbal note - the kind you get when you catch a whiff of Chinese herbal medicine shops - to the dish, with a subtle meaty aniseed flavour from the star anise. I couldn't resist messing around with the recipe a bit; I added dried mushrooms, soy sauce and preserved vegetable for some added savoury tones.

Scooped up with some rice and served with stir fried pak choy, this dish was moreish but stayed light, without the richness of the belly weighing too heavily. It's not much of a looker though.

Steamed Pork Belly With Lily Buds

Serves 4

1kg pork belly, skin on and scored
4 star anise
4 spring onions
1 tbsp Tianjin preserved vegetable
6 dried shiitake mushrooms
50gr dried lily buds
70ml Shaoxing rice wine
2 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp dark soy sauce
70ml chicken stock
1 tsp sesame oil
1 tbsp cornflour
300ml vegetable oil

Bring a large pan of water to the boil. Reserve a bowlful and soak the lily buds and shiitake mushrooms in this. Place the pork belly carefully into the saucepan and simmer on a medium heat for half an hour. Meanwhile, rinse the preserved vegetable and chop the spring onions roughly.

Drain the pork belly and pat dry. Rub with the dark soy sauce. VERY carefully, deep fry the pork belly skin side down only until golden in colour. You might want to wear long sleeves for this. Remove and soak in cold water for 30 mins.

Place the pork belly skin side down in a large bowl. Drain the mushrooms, lily buds and preserved vegetable - pick the mushrooms out and place on top of the belly. Add the spring onions and nestle the star anise within.Top with the preserved vegetable and pour over the rice wine, sesame oil, soy sauce and chicken stock. Place in the steamer and steam for 45 minutes. Remove the lid and arrange the rehydrated lily buds on top and steam for a further 1 hour and 10 minutes.

When this has finished, carefully remove the bowl from the steamer. Scrape the lily buds and mushrooms from the top and arrange on a dish. Carefully lift the meat out of the bowl and place on top of the lily buds, skin side up. Decant the liquid into a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Loosen the cornflour with 1 tbsp cold water amd stir into the saucepan. Simmer until thickened and glossy and pour over the pork belly to serve.

NB. Along with the Tianjin preserved vegetable which looks like this, you can get the dried lily buds in Chinese supermarkets.