winter savory

The best seafood restaurants in Hong Kong, a quiet sleepy fishing harbor until the Brits bootstrapped the town the imperial way, are either nondescript eateries with grey washed walls and simple foldable chairs and tables sitting longingly by seaside, or worn red-carpeted diners, complete with gaudy dragons with chipped gold paint twisting in the entrances, tugged away in countless neon lights in old parts of town. In either case there are glass tanks of murky waters caging exotic sea creatures, each with a long thin plastic tube inserted to supply fresh air, stacked from floor to ceiling in formidable fashion. The menus, if there are any at all, are for out-of-towners. A regular would simply stroll to the tanks--with a waiter trailing obsequiously carrying a short pencil and a palm-sized notepad, poke and point and squeeze at the fishes, crabs and lobsters, and debate what are the fresh catches of the week. A sequence of price wrangling would ensure. Once the prices are decided, the selected victims are cooked in specific means dictated by the customer: steam alongside finely chopped scallions and ginger with boiling oil and soy sauce poured on top when cooked; stir-fry with garlic, bamboo shoots and broccoli in spicy ketchup; slow broil in clay pots with lamb chops, seasoned in fermented tofu and bean sauce, etc. Of course, the true connoisseurs do not even bother to peek at the displayed beasts; they speak only to the manager, who reveals in a whisper hide-away treasures carefully stored in the backroom away from eyes and ears of the undiscerning public. They would order a small dish or two from the private collection, savor they carefully chosen portions, before moving to the next venue for the next targeted delicacies.