In the Mood for Meals

I am in Wong Kar-Wai territory. He grew up here in a North Point that was a neighborhood of Shanghai residents who had moved to Hong Kong after Mao’s ascendancy. In the Mood for Love and 2046 shows that world, although much of those films were shot in Bangkok, which looked more like Wong's childhood home than North Point did by the time he made the movies.

A surviving vestige of those Shanghai expats is found at the end of my street, on North Point Road, where the food has more heat and flavor than I’ve usually found in this city. The precisely pleated little dumplings that I ate yesterday had a rich, dark vinegar on the side and the plate of fried green beans were heavily laced with ground pork that was a deep red from chili oil. A few steps away is another place with chili-laden dishes on their menu and on the corner is a larger spot that is said to serve Sichuan food, although its name has been changed from Little Chilli to Harbin.

That morning a Time-Out article had appeared on Facebook, with suggestions for restaurants in Sham Shui Po and North Point. Three of them were on the same street, the one I walk on every day, so I went out in search of them. The first one is so close that I almost overlooked it in my quest, a Thai hole-in-the-wall that was filled with Southeast Asian maids on their day out. Although my luck with Thai places in Hong Kong has been dismal, this was small and bare-bones enough that the only thing that could draw people would be the food, so optimism continues to flicker.

Further down, in a market with a cooked food center, is an Indian place called Clay Pot that Time-Out says is “rough around the edges.” That description gives me hope for the future. And lying in between them is a beer and burger joint, for those days when I hit the wall; apparently it’s a big deal to Time-Out that the burgers are Canadian.

Along the way, I passed more places to eat than I could sample in ten years, including a spot that calls itself New York Diner and serves authentic diner fare like grilled salmon, pasta, and ribeye steak. No. Probably not.

Whatever cuisine I decide to try, in this neighborhood it is probably going to be food that is fresh. The market that lies outside my apartment is lined with glistening fruit and vegetables and fish and meat that carries no odor. The fish and chicken aren’t as fresh as the ones I’ve seen in New Territory markets, meaning they aren’t still alive, but since I come from the land of meat packaged in plastic, I can live with that.