Estate Living Digital Publication Issue 8 August 2015 | Page 6

sensory overload, a blaze with plenty of bright lights,
sounds and smells, the air is icy cold but warm too,
sizzling with a sense of trepidation, excitement and
confusion at the thought of sipping some simmering
hot tea for the first time and chomping on some
savoury, steamed gow gee and marinated chicken
feet. I cross the realm and enter a world like no other.
Pretty lanterns in a riot of yellows, oranges and reds
hang aimlessly from strings under the arches of
pergolas. Huge golden cats stare back at me from
shop windows, their left paw swinging back and forth,
welcoming me into shops and stall alike.

OPEN KITCHEN

6

wares before you even know what they have to offer.
Unperturbed by my inexperience and the conundrum
of questions currently whizzing through my waiter
eases me into a simple procedure. We are after all
in the heart of London City not inner city Tianjin,
and there is no way of me knowing a Chiu-chao fan
guo from a Lo baak gou to an Ngao yuk kau. Neither
speaks, he just points and I just nod –like a scene from
old school talkie.

My eyes struggle to accustom themselves with the
carefully scrawled Chinese wording, and my feet soon
learn how to dance their way through the myriad
of pavement dwellers whilst random individuals
dressed in the guise of a goat, representing the year
of the goat, add to the mix. The 80 strong restaurants
that lace the edges of this place are festooned in the
same style, and look identical - steamed up windows
prevent nosy outsiders from peering in but it’s not
long before I find the door to the one I am looking for
and dive in. Inside there’s turmoil even greater than
the outside with boisterous, lively, loud, happy familystyle dining experience that fills your heart and belly
before you even take a bite or a seat.
The more the merrier is what makes these places
so unique and tables heaving with people, a few of
who are my friends but getting to them is no mean
feat with so many moving dim sum carts crusading
through the assault course of chairs, tables, diners
and waiters. Full of an ever decreasing amount of
steamed rice, bamboo bowels of hot soups and
delicious dumplings; I am almost afraid they’re going
to run out before they make their way over to me.
The round tables are small, cramped and rickety with
red satin seat covers and spinning susans all around
while the dim low lighting doesn’t help in deciphering
the menu.
Waiters wearing black trousers and white tees
administer a lightning speed service (a tad on the
rude side) impatiently asking whether you want their

I quite like the idea of not having a clue about what’s
about to be delivered to your table but and being
unsure if that is pork, or shrimp, or some weird animal
part. Dining without adventure always promises to
be fun and that’s never a bad thing. Dinner is served.
Here’s to a food date with destiny!

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