A FIRST CLASS DINING ROOM: THE KAM PO KITCHEN

You do not go to a siu mei restaurant for vegetables. Indeed, they are available, and nicely done. But the focus is meat. Nice juicy Cantonese meat. And boy jayzus, do the Cantonese know meat.

Not cow, of course, because that is what violent savages driving herds across the wastelands eat. Nor, unfortunately, lamb or goat -- similar horrid associations as beef -- but pig, duck, chicken.
Observant Jews and Muslims are entirely out of luck, but heathens and the un-observant will enter heaven.
Assuming, of course, that the heathens have healthy appetites.
And none of the usual waspy food-hangups.
This ain't Mickey Dees.

Boruch Hashem.


[Siu mei (燒味): A category of Cantonese cookery that emphasizes roasting, barbecue, and brine. Mostly pork and duck. Available plain , with rice or noodles, in soup, or combined with a very limited number of vegetable options.]

A lot of people know the Kam Po located on the corner of Powell and Broadway, but remarkably few of them are very white. Which is odd, because in a pork-loving town such as San Francisco, this is one of the great culinary treasures. Their siu yiuk is excellent, as is their charsiu, if you let them know that you like it fatty.

[Siu yiuk (燒肉): Roasted pig; white meat, crispy skin. Charsiu (叉燒): barbecue pork slabs, sweet and charry.]

A lawyer of Cantonese ancestry sneers at the place, because he says it's "too Toisan, strictly for peasants". But I disagree. He's a saamyup snob, and sneers at damned well everything including my horrid pronunciation whenever I speak Chinese, and he mostly hangs out with whitey-white-whites anyway.

[Toisan (台山): a district in Southern China, beyond Guangzhou City (廣州市 'gwong jau si'), where a lot of Cantonese Americans have roots. The local dialect is quite distinct. Centuries ago the place was called Sunning (新寧縣 'san ning yuen'; "new serenity county"). Saamyup (三邑): The Three Counties; Naam Hoi (南海), Pun Yu (番禺), and Suen Tak (顺德), where more urban Cantonese hail from.]

Judging by the exquisite meats, peasants eat mighty well.
All hail the peasants and their excellent taste.


港新寶燒腊小食 ['GONG SAN PO SIU LAAP SIU SIK']
KAM PO (H.K.) - KAM PO KITCHEN
801 Broadway, San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-982-3516

["harbour new treasure roast meats eatery"]


It gets crowded by dinner time, and closes around eight, eight thirty.
Most customers don't eat in, but take home huge orders.
Best time is mid to late afternoon.

When I first started eating here, I was still living in North Beach, and rather often short on cash. Their food was affordable and excellent. My girlfriend at the time and I loved the place, and even after we moved away from Chinatown we regularly got take-out food from there.

"What do you feel like eating tonight?"

"How about charsiu and roast duck over rice ... "

"Sure! I'll go get it this time!"

Memorable meals. Many of them.

For a long time after we separated, I avoided the place, because her new boyfriend liked the food and they went there together a lot. It was associated in my mind with my lack of a love-life, and his happiness.
I want her to be happy, but not him.

But I've gotten over that. Yes, the two of them are still connected, despite their frequent break-ups (hello, Asperger types, you know all about this!), and they still eat there.
But only on weekend afternoons, because he's uncomfortable around too much Chineseness, as well as the lack of attention he is likely to suffer when the place is busy.

Heh. Poor little woozzums.


高級美食

My days off are her work-days. And I'm a later eater than either of them. And best of all, I am by no means uncomfortable about too much Chineseness. Likely to take notes or secretly listen in on conversations, yes, but uncomfortable, no.
And this place is perfect for people watching. See, over there is a kid sent by his mom to pick up eight dollars worth of pork, an auntie getting half a duck is behind him. A mom and her little daughter are flirting with a hanging chicken while they wait in line to place an order. An old man hollers for the waitress -- "ah leeeeeeng nui!" -- while his wife cringes at him so loudly using such a casual form of address. Three Hong Kong types are scarfing down noodles and meat while gesticulating wildly with their chopsticks. A tiny girl has finished eating, and is staring over the back of her chair at the next table while her family continues digging in. A tyke wanders around at eye-level to MY plate of roast duck rice.
Dang he's getting close.

I would like some more tea, but the 'leeeeeeng nui' has just rushed out with five plates of stirfried stuff for the Mandarin speakers. She's pre-occupied.
And another family just sat down.

[Leeeeeeng nui (靚女): pretty girl. This is NOT an acceptable term of address from men who are not known to people within hearing range, especially if there could be any suspicion that the gentleman in question is haamsap (鹹濕 "salty moist", randy or lascivious), as all single men without a doubt are. An elderly married man, a middle-aged woman, or a distant relative have considerably more leeway, and quite often older people who are known to the staff will address the counterwoman or waitress as such, even if qua age and appearance hyperbole may be assumed.]


A frowsty residential hotel woman is trying to communicate with the cleaver man at the counter. Despite serious language differences -- he speaks old country, she's from the Deep South -- there is fluent data-laden clarity.
She leaves happy with her soy-sauce chicken.

[Soy sauce chicken (豉油雞): si yau kai. Quick-boiled bird with soy sauce brushed over the skin to colour and add a touch of saltiness. Alternatively, paak chek kai (白切雞) can be had, which is plain poached chicken, chopped into chunks, perfectly fresh, with a small saucer of minced ginger and scallion mushed together with a little chicken grease as a dip (姜蓉 'geung yong').]

Besides the soy sauce chicken, soy-brine chicken (鹵水雞 'lou seui kai') is also a common take-out order, and it likewise is very good.
Such small meats will add pizazz to your insta-noodles.
Because residential hotels don't have kitchens.

"Thaaanks, hon, ah see yew-awl laytuh ...."

Outside, people are hurrying home for dinner, while others ogle the roast ducks in the window. Several teenages stroll by sharing a cigarette.
There's an angry man screaming at traffic.

Did I mention that the food is excellent?

Jook, noodles, savoury meats.

It ain't the Joy Hing in Wanchai, but it's a whole lot better. The quality is consistent, the tables are clean, the staff and clientele are happier, and you can get exactly what you want, no fuss no hassle no question.

[Joy Hing in Wanchai: 再興燒臘飯店, 灣仔軒尼詩道265-267號地下C座 (265-267 Hennessy Road, ground floor, Wan Chai). Joy Hing is a famous siu mei establishment in Hong Kong.]

Plus there are orange cuttlefish hanging in the window: lou seui mo yü (鹵水墨魚). Dipped in soy sauce, delicious!


Why yes, I would LOVE a bowl of old-fire soup with my meal!
You are much too kind.

Nei yau sam.




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