Wonton soup, the seemingly banal comfort food that is always a reliable go-to at even the most questionably chinese restaurants, has soared to the top of my most wanted list. After a long and busy day of visiting the university, wandering through markets and malls (who knew upscale malls were the central feature of this urban landscape?) trying to find my way back to the hotel, and keeping myself up until bedtime, I decided it was time for a little room service. And, at only $138 HKD, what could be more soothing than a nice bowl of what was humbly entitled, "Wonton noodle soup, Hong Kong style"?
This was not your neighborhood -- or at least not MY Davis Island -- wonton soup. Imagine, if you will (or check out my facebook page later today, since, luddite that I am, I can't figure out how to upload photos onto my blog), situated on a tray, a large, square bowl containing bright green, perfectly steamed bock choy, next to a pile of thin egg noodles, cooked al dente and miles and miles (or should I say, in this former british colony, kilometres and kilometres) long to endorse a long life, with glistening steamed shrimp wontons loaded on top. To maintain the textures of these perfectly cooked elements, the rich and perfectly seasoned broth is not in the bowl, but rather in a small silver, covered pitcher next to it, so that you can add the amount you will and keep it warm as you savor this delicious, flavorful and satisfying soup. Originally, I had planned to watch a little tv with my meal (Chinese soap operas, anyone?) but decided that this was a meal worthy of my full attention.
And the 64% dark chocolate mousse, light and creamy, and coated in a rich, deep glaze of dark chocolate, was a worthy encore.
Did you honestly think I would forego dessert?
Monday, May 23, 2011
swept away
Maybe the rapture did not take place as some expected, but, after sixteen or so hours on a plane from Newark (and nine of those hours with the promised 193+ films and tv shows unavailable), I found myself in Hong Kong, a kind of foody heaven that to the New Yorker in me seems like living in an expanded and expansive Chinatown. The signs, the smells, the sounds have a certain vague familiarity, even as I wander wide-eyed and enthusiastic with the exoticism of it all. My upscale hotel room is spacious and elegant, with a panoramic view of the city and the mountains beyond; instead of a coffee maker, there is an electric kettle, and several varieties of black and jasmine tea to be made with the bottled water generously provided because, although the tap water is just fine in and of itself, there is concern about the pipes through which it flows. The tv features Italian, French and Australian programming, as well as animal planet, all with chinese subtitles, while the bed is wide, white, smooth and short. Most of the men here are about my height, with the women shorter, and I smile to imagine my 6'7" fiance looming above it all.
This morning, after an invigorating workout in the high-tech fitness center, where my twisting eliptical provided a view of an outdoor pool rivaling the marble specimen at Hearst Castle, I had the pleasure of breakfasting at the Royal Park's elegant and eclectic buffet featuring the best of the chinese and british breakfast traditions. Although I forewent both varieties (plain or roast pork) of the congee that is my sister's passion, I indulged in the best steamed pork dumplings I have ever encountered, along with thin, savory noodles, fried rice and a perfectly flakey and buttery croissant.
After breakfast, I took a short cab-ride to City University, where my host, Paul, and the Gen Ed Fulbright scholar, DJ, met me to take me to lunch. Although the main buildings of the compact campus are very utilitarian, they are surrounded by lush, if also compact, gardens with bamboo, palm trees, flowers and ponds full of large, orange goldfish. DJ is from University of North Florida, so we bonded quickly over our mutual dislike of Rick Scott, who, as DJ points out, was separated at birth from Lex Luthor.
Like my hotel, the university is connected to an upscale mall (indeed, the offices of the provost and the EDGE program that is my host are located in the tower of the mall, and look exceedingly corporate) and the delicious vietnamese restaurant overlooked the mall's skating rink. As we discussed both Florida university politics and the interesting state of gen ed here in Hong Kong (see discussion below), I enjoyed an assortment of appetizers, including some kind of ground chicken shishkebab coated in a delicious sauce, some kind of fried shrimp ball (what would my father have said here?) and an eggrolly thing, each more delicious than the next, and then a bowl of steaming spicy coconut noodle soup with assorted seafood. The exquisite dessert was billed as banana pudding, leading me to think of artifial yellow glop with vanilla wafers, but in fact it was a small cupcake of flourless banana cake, with toffee crunchies and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, resting in a bath of caramel scented sweet cream.
Since traditionally the universities here have followed the British model, Gen Ed is a very new thing, and the students (most of whom are first generation in college) are somewhat suspicious about "wasting their time" on such impracticalities. (Apparently, their mothers feel even more strongly about it than the students do, but, even though the main language of this university is English, any explanation of the necessity or benefits of the liberal arts would have to be done in orientation in Cantonese, since most of the moms do not speak English.)
My workshops tomorrow will be about the role of interdisciplinarity in gen ed, and, since I am still figuring out exactly what I am going to do, I will sign off for now and report later on being lost (but not uncomfortably so) in the market and how I found my way home without asking directions. And of course there is still at least one more meal left in the day!
This morning, after an invigorating workout in the high-tech fitness center, where my twisting eliptical provided a view of an outdoor pool rivaling the marble specimen at Hearst Castle, I had the pleasure of breakfasting at the Royal Park's elegant and eclectic buffet featuring the best of the chinese and british breakfast traditions. Although I forewent both varieties (plain or roast pork) of the congee that is my sister's passion, I indulged in the best steamed pork dumplings I have ever encountered, along with thin, savory noodles, fried rice and a perfectly flakey and buttery croissant.
After breakfast, I took a short cab-ride to City University, where my host, Paul, and the Gen Ed Fulbright scholar, DJ, met me to take me to lunch. Although the main buildings of the compact campus are very utilitarian, they are surrounded by lush, if also compact, gardens with bamboo, palm trees, flowers and ponds full of large, orange goldfish. DJ is from University of North Florida, so we bonded quickly over our mutual dislike of Rick Scott, who, as DJ points out, was separated at birth from Lex Luthor.
Like my hotel, the university is connected to an upscale mall (indeed, the offices of the provost and the EDGE program that is my host are located in the tower of the mall, and look exceedingly corporate) and the delicious vietnamese restaurant overlooked the mall's skating rink. As we discussed both Florida university politics and the interesting state of gen ed here in Hong Kong (see discussion below), I enjoyed an assortment of appetizers, including some kind of ground chicken shishkebab coated in a delicious sauce, some kind of fried shrimp ball (what would my father have said here?) and an eggrolly thing, each more delicious than the next, and then a bowl of steaming spicy coconut noodle soup with assorted seafood. The exquisite dessert was billed as banana pudding, leading me to think of artifial yellow glop with vanilla wafers, but in fact it was a small cupcake of flourless banana cake, with toffee crunchies and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, resting in a bath of caramel scented sweet cream.
Since traditionally the universities here have followed the British model, Gen Ed is a very new thing, and the students (most of whom are first generation in college) are somewhat suspicious about "wasting their time" on such impracticalities. (Apparently, their mothers feel even more strongly about it than the students do, but, even though the main language of this university is English, any explanation of the necessity or benefits of the liberal arts would have to be done in orientation in Cantonese, since most of the moms do not speak English.)
My workshops tomorrow will be about the role of interdisciplinarity in gen ed, and, since I am still figuring out exactly what I am going to do, I will sign off for now and report later on being lost (but not uncomfortably so) in the market and how I found my way home without asking directions. And of course there is still at least one more meal left in the day!
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