DIM SUM in Hong Kong
Succulent xiaolongbao soup dumplings; delicate har gau prawn parcels – dim sum reaches peak quality in Hong Kong, but it’s also the daily ritual that fuels city life and can be as traditional or innovative as you like
The best things come in small packages. From pillowy char siu bao (sticky-sweet barbecued pork buns) to delicate shumai – pork-prawn dumplings enveloped in a golden cuff of wonton – dim sum is the ultimate example. And whether you take yours in an atmospherically worn teahouse among chattering local families, or in a tranquil high-rise restaurant like the one-Michelinstar Ming Court cordishotels.com lead by chef Li Yuet Faat, gazing out to the glittering skyline, there’s nothing quite like enjoying these perfect little parcels in their Cantonese heartland.
Hong Kong moves at lightning pace. While a ferry might whisk you to islands still awash in forests, fishing villages and incense-cloaked temples, the central city is the world’s most skyscraping. Neon-fringed towers with glamorous hotels and designer shops jostle with thrifty night markets and hawker stalls. And weaving it all together is the daily ritual of dim sum, said to have existed for thousands of years. As Silk Road travellers paused to take tea on their journeys, enterprising teahouse owners developed these bite-sized accompaniments. From mere snacks, dim sum (which translates to ‘touch the heart’) evolved into a breakfast and lunchtime staple.
Even now, the most traditional eateries open eye-wateringly early and pack up by mid-afternoon. One such example is Sun Hing (8 Smithfield Road), a neighbourhood spot in Kennedy Town, at the westerly fringes of Sai Wan on Hong Kong Island. Plastic stools, shared folding tables, faded newspaper cuttings on walls – don’t expect something fancy. Doors open from 3am, as late-night partyers pile in for soothing congee rice pudding, gooey custard buns and bouncy har gau – blushing pink prawns, coddled in a translucent, pleated veil of dough. As the day unfolds, the revellers are replaced by night-shift taxi drivers, elderly locals out for breakfast, and hungry students.
To get dim sum right, here or anywhere, pick your tea first – it’s as central to this meal as the nibbles. Then get ordering by ticking off dishes on the paper menu card: you’ll be wanting plenty, for this cuisine is designed for sharing. In especially old-school restaurants, look out for dim sum carts – piled high with bamboo containers encasing diverse delights, whether crisp wontons or deep-fried chicken feet. The big reveal, as your server lifts the lid and releases billows of steam, is as enticing as the contents.
Hong Kong has no shortage of old-school dim sum houses. Jade Garden jadegarden.com.hk by the Star Ferry terminal, buzzes with families and business folk tucking into affordable char siu pork and gooey cheung fun rice noodle rolls, stuffed with crisp fritters. Elegant classic Luk Yu (24-26 Stanley Street) has three buzzy floors of grand old décor, with crisp tablecloths, polished woods, and white-jacketed servers dishing up fried beef noodles.
That’s not to say the dim sum scene is staid. New restaurants, and younger chefs, are doing things differently. At Yum
Cha yumchahk.com char siu bao buns entice the Instagram generation: chef Winson Yip styles them into cute cartoon-style piggies; at Man Mo manmodimsum.com in Sheung Wan, expats flock for dim sum with a Gallic twist – ratatouille or truffle-brie dumplings, and a dessert fusing tarte au citron with Hong Kong-style egg tarts; then there’s pure decadence at Mott 32 mott32.com where chef Lee Man Sing’s star dish is Kurobuta pork and quail’s egg siu mai lavished with black truffle.
The best thing about it? You can get top-quality for a song. Step through the doors at the Sham Shui Po branch of Tim Ho Wan timhowan.com and you’ll be rewarded with one of the world’s cheapest Michelin-starred meals. Somehow, the bright lighting and simple wooden tables – not to mention queues – only seem to make those ngao yuk (steamed meatballs) taste even better.