Ladies Street Sik Faan recreates street vendor culture indoors, recognizing that this piece of local life might otherwise disappear.Ann Hui/The Globe and Mail
In 1980, George Lam, a young folk singer in Hong Kong known for his mustache and billowing shirts, released the Cantopop song Need You Every Minute, which went on to become a huge hit across Asia. In it, Lam sings of how love can make even the simplest moments transcendent – on how the humblest, poor man’s dish, like “salted fish and bok choy can still taste delicious.”
Seated at the counter of Vea, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Hong Kong, about to embark on an eight-course, $2,280 HKD (about $400) tasting menu – amidst the hushed reverence of white-coated cooks huddled over gleaming white dishes – I notice the name of the first course on the menu: “Salted fish and bok choy sabayon.”
Suddenly, playing from a speaker in the plate is Lam’s familiar tune. It sends me – and many of the other diners around me – immediately back to another time. It’s dinner, a magic trick and a time machine, all at once.
This wasn’t my first trip to Hong Kong. It’s where my mother grew up and a city I’ve visited throughout the years. On past trips, Hong Kong, with its gleaming glass towers and unrelenting pace of life, has felt like a city obsessed with the future. But this trip revealed a different Hong Kong.
Yes, there was still the dazzling skyline and luxury malls. But at the same time, I found a city fixated on nostalgia – on the idea of a simpler time, or what locals refer to as gau heung gong, or “Old Hong Kong.” And while nineties nostalgia is a global phenomenon, to Hong Kongers, the 1990s holds a specific poignancy: It was for many, a golden age: A period of unprecedented economic progress, a flourishing cultural output – and a time, also, before the Chinese handover and all of the uncertainty and upheaval that’s unfolded since.
At Ladies Street Sik Faan, beer is poured into blue-and-white ceramic bowls, in the classic dai pai dong style.Ann Hui/The Globe and Mail
After three years of near-total pandemic closings, Hong Kong officially opened its doors to visitors again last year. The official message is that Hong Kong is moving forward. But everywhere I turned during my week-long visit in May was evidence of a place and people at the same time reaching for the comforts of its past.
Many examples, like at Vea, came from the food – and a renewed popularity in the comfort classics.
At Ladies Street Sik Faan, beer is poured into blue-and-white ceramic bowls, in the classic dai pai dong style. Dai pai dong (which translates into “big sign vendor”) are the street vendors that, until recently, lined Hong Kong streets each night, serving everything from congee and noodles to stir-fries. They were once a mainstay, but have seen a sharp decline over the past decade because of concerns from the city around sanitation and food safety. Today, just 21 of the original stalls remain.
So Ladies Street Sik Faan is not an original dai pai dong, but an indoors recreation of one – opened out of concern that this piece of the local culture might otherwise disappear. The restaurant is designed to look like a vibrant streetscape, with tin letterboxes, neon street signs and a floor clad in red-and-white tile. It’s just one of many dai pai dong-inspired restaurants and indoor markets that have popped up in recent years – and the popularity was evidenced by the huge crowd waiting outside.
The food is excellent: black bean razor clams steaming with wok hei, crispy shrimp toasts so hot they burn your tongue, and showered with black truffles; steamed scallops as large as a fist and heaving with garlic, scallions and soy sauce.
Cha chaan tengs (or Hong-Kong-style cafes) too, have enjoyed a similar resurgence. The cafes first came about in the 1950s, the result of a rising working class in Hong Kong. And during the eighties and nineties – when Hong Kong emerged as the finance capital of Asia, these cha chaan tengs became a go-to for office workers, a trend that has continued to this day.
The cafes blend together the city’s Chinese roots with its British colonial past (with dishes like French toast drenched in condensed milk, pineapple buns and fried pork chops with curry). But they also represent, to many Hong Kongers, progress.
Central Market, which was Hong Kong’s first wet market, was redeveloped in 2021 as a centre for local food vendors and artisans.Ann Hui/The Globe and Mail
They’re so beloved that lawmakers have tried, in the past, to have cha chaan tengs added to UNESCO’s heritage list.
So amidst the pandemic, with headlines screaming that some of the city’s most iconic cha chaan tengs were permanently shuttering, this inspired a small emergency. Locals rallied to support them, and the cafes have rebounded – so much so that brand-new “modern” ones have begun cropping up, like the recently opened “CCT by Shop B” (for “cha chaan teng”), a sleekly-designed cafe in Central.
When I visited the Australia Dairy Company – one of Hong Kong’s most iconic cha chaan tengs – on a Saturday morning, servers inside had to navigate through the crowded dining room cautiously, doling out plates of buttery-gold scrambled eggs and metal tumblers filled with intensely rich and sweet milk tea on crushed ice. The line outside stretched across five neighbouring storefronts and around the block.
Later the same day, I visited M+, a contemporary art gallery that opened to much fanfare in 2021, and more nostalgia. M+ is in Hong Kong’s newly created West Kowloon Cultural District (which also includes the Xiqu Centre, a stunning new performing arts centre designed by Canadian studio Revery Architecture).
The gallery’s opening was met with some controversy – concerns around censorship. Still, in the time since it’s become an important site for Chinese art and exploration of a Hong Kong identity. I visited the “Hong Kong: Here And Beyond” exhibit (before its closing in June) which explores the city’s transformation over the past several decades, including an untitled work by the artist Tsang Tsou Choic, a 1990s-era map of Kowloon covered with Tsang’s distinctive Chinese calligraphy.
At Central Market, entire storefronts are dedicated to the kind of nostalgia with which Hong Kong is increasingly fixated.Ann Hui/The Globe and Mail
On another day, as I walked around Central Market, revelling in more nostalgia. Central Market, which was Hong Kong’s first wet market (and where some of the original features, like the metal hooks used for transporting livestock, remain intact) – was redeveloped in 2021 as a centre for local food vendors and artisans.
HK Tram Store, on the main floor, is a popular vendor, featuring a large collection of retro Hong Kong paraphernalia, neon signs depicting vintage green double-decker trams and “Home Kong” signs. In the basement, vendors unabashedly celebrate the nineties – arguably the heyday of Hong Kong’s cultural influence, from the cinema of Wong Kar Wai to the popularity across Asia of Cantopop.
Here, there were entire storefronts displaying old Yes! magazine covers (Hong Kong’s answer to Tiger Beat), and shelves devoted to VHS and cassette tapes from the 1990s – mixtapes featuring the grinning faces of Leslie Cheung, Anita Mui and yes, George Lam.
As I made my way through the market, I watched a young woman pass, wearing tights and a baseball cap. On her shoulder, she carried a white tote bag with red lettering. It read: “Nostalgia: Sometimes it’s good to go back.”
If you go
Cathay Pacific offers 24 direct flights each week from Vancouver and Toronto to Hong Kong cathaypacific.com
Where to stay:
The Four Seasons hotel is a five-star option that offers eight Michelin stars under one roof, including the impeccable Lung King Heen, which was the first Chinese restaurant anywhere in the world to receive three Michelin stars. Rooms from $800/night. fourseasons.com/hongkong
Ovolo Central is a cheaper option (around $300/night) found in Lan Kwai Fong – a neighbourhood densely populated with bars and nightclubs – ideally located for those looking for a livelier experience. ovolohotels.com
And for budget travellers, check out Page 148 in Tsim Sha Tsui (the “148″ comes from the hotel’s street number). It’s a great option, sandwiched between three MTR stops and a 10-minute walk from the newly-opened K11 Art Mall. Rooms start at about $180/night.
The writer was a guest of the Hong Kong Tourism Board. It did not review or approve this article before publication.