Exiting a subway car in Hong Kong during rush hour is as close as we will ever come to the experience of Coho Salmon swimming upstream to spawn. The train doors open and a wall of people rush in. If you want off before the final stop, your only option is to lower your head and power forward into the wave. Above all else, never stop moving. If you stall, even momentarily, the momentum of workers desperate to get home from work will drag you back onto the train. Perhaps a better analogy would be defeating the pass rush of the Baltimore Ravens.
We just got back from a weeklong trip to Hong Kong. We went there to celebrate Steven’s 43rd birthday. To hide out for Steven’s birthday may be a more accurate description. Steven did not want a party and definitely did not want to go bar hoping. Being born on St. Patrick’s Day has advantages, but one of the great disadvantages is that people like to buy you drinks. This may not sound like a disadvantage, but in a crowded bar on St. Patrick’s Day it tends to quickly get out of hand. In a matter of minutes, free drinks begin to feel like less like a gift and more like the buildup to a Lindsay Lohan mug shot.
Our destination, Hong Kong, was chosen for us partially by the availability of cheap airline tickets. Had United discounted tickets to Japan or Thailand, we would’ve gone there instead. We admit that this decision making process gives large corporations a lot of power over our vacations, but so far the system has produced amazing trips. Hong Kong was no exception. The only glitch in our plan was that we committed to spend 60 days in Austerity Mode right before we left. Anyone who knows Cantonese food will tell you that this was a terrible idea.
Our destination, Hong Kong, was chosen for us partially by the availability of cheap airline tickets. Had United discounted tickets to Japan or Thailand, we would’ve gone there instead. We admit that this decision making process gives large corporations a lot of power over our vacations, but so far the system has produced amazing trips. Hong Kong was no exception. The only glitch in our plan was that we committed to spend 60 days in Austerity Mode right before we left. Anyone who knows Cantonese food will tell you that this was a terrible idea.
Fact: For those unfamiliar with Austerity Mode, it is Basic DYC on steroids. It eliminates all of the remaining grains, starches and sweeteners that Basic allows. Virtually all carbohydrates come from fruit and vegetables. This is DYC so alcohol is allowed, but grains, alternative flours, starchy tubers such as potatoes as well as all added sweeteners are off limits. There are still plenty healthy foods available. All fish, eggs and meat are unlimited. All fresh fruits and vegetables are similarly fair game.
While the differences in Basic DYC and Austerity Mode may seem trivial, they have an enormous impact. Every time we do this we find ourselves in the surreal position on being constantly hungry, constantly eating and still losing weight. There is no magic. The Austerity Mode Food List simply jettisons the few remaining high calorie foods in Basic DYC. The result is a bigger calorie deficit.
It turns out that in Hong Kong, Austerity Mode is virtually impossible. Cantonese food is the Whitman’s Sampler of Chinese cuisine. Even breakfasts included delicate wads of meat giftwrapped in translucent shells of rice and wheat. Andrea did better at avoiding carbs than Steven because she is allergic to wheat. The pork buns and a countless variety of dumplings were off limits to her. While Steven gorged himself on dim sum—he wielded his chopsticks with the speed and deftness of a Shaolin monk—Andrea was frequently forced to sip tea and watch. She did occasionally fall prey to the ubiquitous, perfectly fluffy rice and the ever-present availability of stir-fried rice noodles. In the end, Andrea was about as successful with her attempts to stay in Austerity Mode and Steven was disastrous in his.
Our commitment to Austerity Mode was decidedly mixed, but at least we were able to fully indulge our hobby of pointing out typos and the general misuse of the English language. Hong Kong is unquestionably one of the world’s great destinations for people who enjoy this pastime.
Our commitment to Austerity Mode was decidedly mixed, but at least we were able to fully indulge our hobby of pointing out typos and the general misuse of the English language. Hong Kong is unquestionably one of the world’s great destinations for people who enjoy this pastime.
Fact: “The cashew fries the shrimp.” We admit it. Every time we travel outside the English-speaking world we spend exorbitant amounts of time photographing signs and menus. This is one of our main motivators for travel. We get an unholy thrill every time we spot a new word or phrase that we have never seen before. The level of excitement we felt last year when we saw a sign in Japan advertising “Stylish Bar Poo” was admittedly excessive.
We would feel guilty about this pleasure, but it turns out that people from the non English-speaking world have just as much fun with our butchering of their languages. For example, a friend is married to a woman from China. They were recently strolling through a seaside town in Maine when she, with no shortage of joy, pointed to a stranger marked with Chinese characters and asked, “Why does that man have ‘Umbrella Dog’ tattooed on his arm?”
The food in Hong Kong is amazing. We had a Sichuan meal that was among the best we have ever tasted. When we were hungry, we often jumped into a random line in front of a busy restaurant and then tried to figure out what type of food they served. The strategy worked. We ate incredible food off menus without a word of English. Since we speak no Cantonese, we relied on our long-dormant Charades skills; based on reactions, we are reasonably sure that the sign for “Two Syllables” is an obscene gesture.
Cantonese food is all about fresh. The fresher the better. If a food is still quivering, better still. Hong Kong is filled with wet markets selling live fish and other seafood that is hacked apart to order. Meats are often displayed dripping blood to illustrate how little time has passed since butchering. We are not meat shy. Andrea has taken butchering classes. We have no problem with meat that looks and tastes like meat. The general freshness of the food was one the highlights of the trip.
Cantonese food is all about fresh. The fresher the better. If a food is still quivering, better still. Hong Kong is filled with wet markets selling live fish and other seafood that is hacked apart to order. Meats are often displayed dripping blood to illustrate how little time has passed since butchering. We are not meat shy. Andrea has taken butchering classes. We have no problem with meat that looks and tastes like meat. The general freshness of the food was one the highlights of the trip.
One thing we found interesting was that while freshness is paramount in Cantonese cooking, there seemed to be little discussion of where the ingredients actually come from. This is in strong contrast to the Bay Area where every menu reads like an abridged version of Charlotte’s Web.
It seems like every dish in San Francisco is now accompanied by a full biography of the animal that died to produce it. The breed, the diet and the hometown are always provided. In extreme cases, menus include a photograph and full biography of the rancher written in the style of a Match.com dating profile. In the Bay Area, where and how an animal is raised is more important than immediate freshness. It must be fresh enough to taste good, but actively running away awards no additional bonus points.
In Hong Kong freshness preempts provenance. Fish are still swimming in tanks up until the moment they hit the wok. Skin-on chicken tends to include at least a few stray feathers. Everything is very, very fresh. But few things are labeled as to breed, feed, or place of origin.
We asked a young expat who worked as a chef in a restaurant on Stanley beach where the food in the markets originates. “It’s best not to ask,” she waved her hand over the chicken wings she had just served us. “These are from Australia. But most of our meat comes from factory farms in Vietnam. The kind of farm you never want to visit.” She then leaned over the bar conspiratorially. “You should be more worried about the fish. A lot of that comes from the South China Sea. It’s one of the most polluted bodies of water in the world.”
It seems like every dish in San Francisco is now accompanied by a full biography of the animal that died to produce it. The breed, the diet and the hometown are always provided. In extreme cases, menus include a photograph and full biography of the rancher written in the style of a Match.com dating profile. In the Bay Area, where and how an animal is raised is more important than immediate freshness. It must be fresh enough to taste good, but actively running away awards no additional bonus points.
In Hong Kong freshness preempts provenance. Fish are still swimming in tanks up until the moment they hit the wok. Skin-on chicken tends to include at least a few stray feathers. Everything is very, very fresh. But few things are labeled as to breed, feed, or place of origin.
We asked a young expat who worked as a chef in a restaurant on Stanley beach where the food in the markets originates. “It’s best not to ask,” she waved her hand over the chicken wings she had just served us. “These are from Australia. But most of our meat comes from factory farms in Vietnam. The kind of farm you never want to visit.” She then leaned over the bar conspiratorially. “You should be more worried about the fish. A lot of that comes from the South China Sea. It’s one of the most polluted bodies of water in the world.”
Fact: America has its share of factory farms and tainted bodies of water. Oysters and crabs from the waters off Louisiana are still a delicacy even though Hurricane Katrina and BP Oil have conspired to make them highly suspect. Not even a Mad Cow outbreak could slow America’s love of fast food. Although it did, for a time, end most beef exports.
Our point is not that Hong Kong’s food is somehow tainted. It is not. It is no more suspect than food in any city in the world. We are sharing our observation because it is fascinating to us that definitions of “quality” can vary so dramatically. In Hong Kong, quality is freshness in the most immediate sense. Back home, quality is synonymous with pedigree. Neither approach can be called better unless you either enjoy picking you fish from an aquarium or enjoy reading stories about your farmer’s biodiesel truck.
We are probably idiots for jumping into Austerity Mode just as we left on this trip. We definitely failed more often than we succeeded. But it was a worthwhile experiment. Being in Austerity forced us to think about which cheats were worthwhile and which were not. For example, we skipped 90% of the free hotel breakfast and stuck to eggs and fruit. Let’s face it; we have had enough mediocre buffet breakfasts to know that those calories aren’t worth it. We were far better off saving those calories for evening drinks or perhaps a carb-laden, numbing appetizer at the Sichuan restaurant. Being in Austerity Mode pushed us to choose.
It is also worth noting that we both came back having lost a little weight. We credit this to small portions and exercise. At some point, we think in the 70s, Americans decided that a proper restaurant serve should be larger than a ten-gallon hat. By contrast, if you want to overeat in Hong Kong you have to order two entrees. We prefer the Hong Kong approach. We were able to try more foods. We never left hungry and we also never left feeling like we had just eaten a ten-gallon hat.
We also exercised throughout the trip. Our motivation was, admittedly, proving to ourselves that we were not drinking too much. As a result, we took several long hikes through the hills above the city. We dropped in on the local Crossfit affiliate. We largely skipped taking the train and instead walked everywhere. We love exploring cities on foot. Hong Kong is definitely a city that rewards wanderers. It is the kind of place were you set off in search of a particular store or restaurant and instead find yourself joyously wandering through a crowded market and stopping for lunch in a tiny restaurant that promises “The cashew fries the shrimp.”
We are probably idiots for jumping into Austerity Mode just as we left on this trip. We definitely failed more often than we succeeded. But it was a worthwhile experiment. Being in Austerity forced us to think about which cheats were worthwhile and which were not. For example, we skipped 90% of the free hotel breakfast and stuck to eggs and fruit. Let’s face it; we have had enough mediocre buffet breakfasts to know that those calories aren’t worth it. We were far better off saving those calories for evening drinks or perhaps a carb-laden, numbing appetizer at the Sichuan restaurant. Being in Austerity Mode pushed us to choose.
It is also worth noting that we both came back having lost a little weight. We credit this to small portions and exercise. At some point, we think in the 70s, Americans decided that a proper restaurant serve should be larger than a ten-gallon hat. By contrast, if you want to overeat in Hong Kong you have to order two entrees. We prefer the Hong Kong approach. We were able to try more foods. We never left hungry and we also never left feeling like we had just eaten a ten-gallon hat.
We also exercised throughout the trip. Our motivation was, admittedly, proving to ourselves that we were not drinking too much. As a result, we took several long hikes through the hills above the city. We dropped in on the local Crossfit affiliate. We largely skipped taking the train and instead walked everywhere. We love exploring cities on foot. Hong Kong is definitely a city that rewards wanderers. It is the kind of place were you set off in search of a particular store or restaurant and instead find yourself joyously wandering through a crowded market and stopping for lunch in a tiny restaurant that promises “The cashew fries the shrimp.”
