It has a very Hong Kong ambiance. Upper Kowloon. Home town urban instead of shopaholic foreigners, too far into Canto territory for the White people, Filippinos, and Japanese.
And it caters to regular folks, rather than hip young people.
So of course while I was eating late lunch, three couples came in for early dinner.
The cook likes doing rice stick noodle dishes. Stirfried with three shreds, or shrimp paste, or scallion ginger black bean sauced stuff. They also do excellent pork chops, as well as ngau lam and chicken stuffs, and good vegetables. It satisfies a loyal clientele.
The neighborhood has been coming there for many years.
Sadly, they still don't do any clay pot dishes.
But I suspect they'd be good quite at it.
There are bakery items made daily.
Noodle soup, wonton, sui gaau.
Also Hong Kong Milk Tea.
As you would expect.
What I would have ordered, if they had had it, was preserved meats over rice casserole. The savoury rich taste was what I fixated upon since this morning, but what I had instead was strifried rice noodles. Which I dolloped with hot sauce.
Fork, fork, fork. Mmmm.
Nearly an hour after arriving I paid and left, lighting my pipe once outside.
A quiet stroll down the alleyways, past nearly deserted Portsmouth Square.
Fewer people about than earlier.
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