THE BAKED CHICKEN RICE PARADIGM

Lunch yesterday at the Washington Bakery and Restaurant was porkloin and egg on a bowl of rice, which is one of their new Thursday lunch specials: 豬腩蛋飯 ('chyu naam daan faan')。 They are updating the menu for a more contemporary fit.

It was very good, but I really wish they would bring back the baked Portuguese chicken rice (焗葡國雞飯 'guk pou gwok gai faan'), one of the old stodgy chachanteng dishes that, in its Hong Kong interpretation, was both completely inauthentic, and yet completely real. Portuguese chicken rice, Hong Kong borscht (羅宋湯 'lo sung tong'), French toast (西多士 'sai do si'), and spaghetti (意粉 'yi fan') as the starch option with a multitude of things, plus hot milk tea (奶茶 'naai cha'), almost define the perfect Hong Kong chachanteng.
That, and the club sandwich (公司三文治 'gong si saam man ji') with fries or potato salad, plus a selection of dishes finished in the broiler, often with cheese on top.

A chachanteng (茶餐廳) is a unique institution, which is in both decor and menu variable and often quirky, as it provides fast food, comfort food, old favourites, and eccentric interpretations of Western and Chinese dishes. Almost Blade Runner meets Clockwork Orange.
With shades of Tampopo.

Many Caucasians won't grasp the concept, and most mainlanders will not understand the nomenclature on the menu. Food snobs may hate it, and Anthony Bourdain would have totally dug it.


For some people it's a beloved change of pace, a break from cooking rice plus soup and sung (餸) in a cramped apartment, for others it's the working man's lunch spot, or a place for a quick bowl of noodles (sometimes with Spam and fried egg on top). Plus a high-octane caffeinated beverage.



Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice exemplifies all that, as well as what your doctor may hate about your dining habits. A base of egg-fried rice, with cooked chicken and potatoes in mild curry sauce ("Portuguese Sauce", 葡汁 'pou jap'), and a sprinkle of cheese, shoved under the broiler till bubbly and golden. The mild curry sauce is, nevertheless, fairly rich, as there is coconut milk in the blend. If the right balance of greasy-salty-flavourful is achieved, it is heaven on a plate. I have often thought that the only thing missing from the Hong Kong production is two strips of bacon, but some chunks of sauteed chouriço would do the same.

Hong Kong style Portuguese sauce (葡汁) is a low-heat curry gravy, light on the coconut milk, thinned with a little chicken stock.


Chinatown is slowly becoming more mainland Cantonese and Mandarin. Things are changing. And successful change means, perhaps, that there will be losses, along with improvements. Less 'kongish', more modern.
Portuguese sauce and baked dishes may disappear.
Or be totally reinterpreted.
Change is good.
Can be.





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