A Few Good... Meals - Hong Kong

Ok… so starting a few years ago, I was suited and booted and in the evenings enjoying vino and tapas on roof top bars, enjoying  film in a botanic garden and just generally flouncing about wineries of a weekend…

Then I was in WA, my weekend consisted of atleast one day test tasting wine and partaking in cheese while watching the sunset over rolling hills, before taking a dip in the ocean at a deserted beach (other than Willow the dog).

Fast forward to living in the most polluted city in China, living in a dormitory in a cement by cement school that for half the year is below 1 degree and the other half the year at 70% humidity… No wineries, no bars, no steak, no… well, devoid of a lot of the special things we often take for granted at home.

I love my work, I love my school, love my kids and my colleagues, I’m even fond of my apartment… but don’t I miss a good winery or a good cheese platter.
I was then sent to Hong Kong, ad longing was replaced by anticipation, anticipation by experience…

First , I found myself (I mean I say I found myself, yes it took a good 30 minutes of wandering around in slowly increasing frustration before finding he situation)at a roof top bar, on top of some fancy hotel and similarly fancy shops.

It wasn’t the best day, there was smog floating about, but the staff were kind, there was wine on the menu (a NON-EVENT in most of China due to heavy taxes that have only recently been lifted). The prices were exorbitant, but to sit, with a COLD glass of WHITE wine, on a fancy stool in a fancy place with a fancy view.

All I was missing was my sister.

Another day I was on a mission for a decent sausage – lets not be inappropriate! I spent some time on google and after an appropriate amount of research, discovered three potential sausage and mash establishments! One of which I ended up visiting about three times during my exile.

It was, however, as I was walking back from a trip to one of the islands and in desperate search for a decent and delicious mean that I was accosted by a man waving a menu in my face, I took it, and went to walk on, but he walked infront of me. He STOOD infront of me. Pointing at the menu. I thought I could look at it, then pretend it wasn’t what I wanted then move on, having placating him.

But then…

I looked…

It was… INDIAN FOOD!

I grabbed him by the sleeve, he took a frightened step back, my eyes bulged in desperation, in potential excitement, TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER – well, I didn’t, I really said “take me to your food”, but I felt the concept itself came across appropriately.

Man, when was the last time I’d had a good curry?

The man took me (as I grasped on to his sleeve, practically frothing at the mouth) to stand in line… really? In line? We were lining up with others to take a lift… a very very small lift, NOT a western lift… this was a lift for maybe two Western people on a good day… on a very very svelte day.


We did get to the lift, I was being to English to be impolite and say… “well, you may be taking me to my death, I’m going to head off now – that OK?”, instead I waited with my man, with my menu, in the hopes that Indian Food would be an eventuation.

I have a sneaking suspicion this guy got a bonus, because as soon as I was escorted into the tiny but delicious smelling establishment (ok... maybe not establishment, more a hallway made into a cafe type thing?) it was as if I were royalty.

At any rate, I was treated like a princess as soon as I entered. There was water, complimentary wine and appetisers.

I took some time, ok... I didn't - the lovely waiter, who comes from India and has a wife and three children back at home. He actually has a doctorate and his wife, who is back in India, is a professor of English Literature - they're hoping to move to Australia but need the funds, hence he is working here in Hong Kong and sending the money back to India... took my order quite quickly!

I was desperate for some Tikka Masalla, Aloo Gobi, Butter Chicken and a poppadom or two!

Man it was DELICIOUS! 

I was close to tears with every bite and out of the kindness of my heart, took a happy snap and sent to all those I knew in Tangshan... who were appropriately MAD and JEALOUS of my meal.

I spent another hour having a chat with the waiter and chef, discussing moving to Australia, the amount of Indian people who lived in Hong Kong and why... I will never see an Indian meal the same again.

Oh... and on the way home I popped in to a SUPER MARKET (because they have them here...) and found...


What a lucky duck I am.

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