利小館 (銅鑼灣)

Luxury Brands developing a more affordable line of clothing or accessories seems like a good way to expand its market, or target audience, After all, fashion magazines are becoming more popular among audience at increasingly younger age groups, 'Style at every age' is finally being realized, and while trendsetters may not want to admit, it's great to see that those who think they can create styles, or influence their change with details and trends, are developing variations or alternatives to reach a larger mass. It doesn't just happen in fashion, clearly, to food as well.

Lei Bistro is the latest line for the Lei Garden Restaurant chains. With affordability and casual atmosphere in mind, the first establishment opened in Causeway Bay, right at the basement of Times Square, where the hungry traffic is huge throughout the day. If there is one thing about Lei Bistro that goes hand in hand with its luxury counterparts, it's the need for reservations. You need one to get in, unless you don't mind waiting outside. But then if you don't mind waiting, there are a few things you shouldn't mind when you get there -- the ambience, service, and food quality, three of the most obvious elements in a restaurant's visit.

Without further judgment, Lei Bistro is more laid-back, but that also involves the owners trying to maximize their already narrow dining space with more tables, each closer to each other. The lack of elbow room also evolves into having your next table neighbors eavesdropping into your conversation, or not, because the place is a hub of noise -- you may not be able to hear what the others are talking about, or for that matter, the person right opposite you.

The menu is decidedly mixed -- and much similar to the case in many restaurants trying to be more than they can be, no matter what brand the restaurant's developed from, Lei Bistro is trying very hard to change that. It's signature 冰燒三層肉 can be sold out early afternoon. The quality wasn't bad, but for a signature product to be in such short supply is an alarming fact -- were they trying to make it look more popular than it does? 油炆筍尖 are not very thin bamboo shoots, braised in plenty of brown sauce which is overseasoned and over-glazed. The slim bamboo shoots went from crunchy to soggy, with what may be an overdose of oyster sauce in the marinade they're cooked in. 蜜汁火方 (配蝴蝶包) is a failed attempt for a well established brand to redeem itself. The ham, despite softened through repeated steaming, was soft with bits of fat still clinging on each slice, the honey sauce it's cooked in was truly too sweet, almost like biting into a hunk of ham followed by 10 repeated licks of an artificial-sweetener-laden lollipop. It's so sweet it tasted fake. The "butterfly buns" were soft, and what's up with the deep-fried soybean sheets that went with? Can they be any less generous about it? (despite them being crunchy throughout)

The only thing 'dirty' about 荷香蒸污糟雞 is its name. Bony chunks of marinated chicken steamed inside a lotus leaf parcel with red jujubes, shreds of preserved mustard tubers, and dried shiitaki mushrooms were tender and juicy, with a strong welcoming aroma of lotus leaf in every bite of the chicken, if only the dish could be less oily -- the chicken was sitting in a shallow pool of oil. 故鄉濃茶燻釜米鴨 came from the barbecued department. It fell right into the deadly mistake as the smoky flavour overrode everything else. The duck no longer took on any flavour other than a slightly burnt taste. If you try to tell me the duck was smoked to death, I would've believe you too -- the smokiness truly was too much, even for someone who loves tea dearly!

韭黃炒鱔糊 came in a small portion, but that usually didn't matter, but instead you can find more chives than eel, which came in dark miniature curls that were slightly too tough. The chives were too tough though and grassy to taste. 飄香荷葉飯 is the only dish we couldn't complain -- the full lotus leaf parcel was packed with moist rice granules, while bits of dried shiitaki mushrooms and chicken bits were perfectly diced and moist. The aroma of lotus leaf was strong but not too dominating. If there was anything, the serving portion was way too big for this one, as a group of three each had 2 bowls full. Desserts are not a strong suit here, but claiming originality is Lei Bistro's 楊枝甘露. Being original is one thing, being up to par is another. This concoction was too thin and too sweet. Despite featuring chunks of mangoes with translucent pearls of tapioca, the shreds of pomelo were too tough and bitter to taste. It was truly disappointing to think that the restaurant which created the same dessert could differ so much from the original restaurant, is it what restaurants are trying to do -- toning down the prices by lowering the quality of their food?

Food quality aside, for any brand intending to keep its reputation, a keen eye on the management is important. It took forever for anyone to get their teacups refilled, to a point that diners wanted to refill by themselves. The service staff seemed to be in a rush walking around trying to be accomodating instead of actually doing it. It's equally a pain to see that despite the placemats are artfully designed, some of the plates and bowls were already chipped (please see image) despite the restaurant has opened for no more than a few weeks. To claim that a restaurant group is trying to reach a wider target audience by lowering the prices is fine, but to lower the quality of anything that goes out of the kitchen isn't. The food isn't all bad, but it's the careless bits here and there that makes diners wish that they'd been in the original Lei Garden Restaurants instead, as one couldn't help but wonder, when the new Lei Garden opens later this year in the same building, will the bistro be as popular as now?

湘川滬 (葵芳)

Back in the day of videogames, there were game packs, one of those packs that contain several, if not more than 10 games all compressed into one game (gamers can choose which one to play) It often felt like all the good games were on their own, and the crappy ones got into these compilations, as if the companies are trying to sell them out without having to invest money in their own game. These games, often overlooked, are generally not very good -- much attention has been focused elsewhere.

A similar situation goes into dining, I found, that when restaurants are trying to accomplish too much in one sitting, it often compromises the quality of food turned out from the kitchen. Why trying to have Korean, Japanese and Thai all under one same roof when you can perfect Korean or Japanese or Thai all on its own? Yes, it certainly attracts certain kind of crowds, but to many who gain knowledge of what good ethnic cuisine can be, the in-betweens are slowly disappearing, replaced by folks who feel more conscious about what they serve. Shouldn't that be good news?

But here were, at 湘川滬 right at the Kwai Tsing Theatre. It looked the part of a traditional restaurant along the lines of Shanghaineses -- cooks are at the front kneading dough and making dumplings. The restaurant takes up a big space, as we settled along the booths by the windows. We didn't feel for soup-filled dumplings, and out of three regions in its name, we focused a little bit elsewhere.

Chicken in hot chili sauce (重慶口水雞, $60) has such a generic name that the owners did not even attempt to mention Chongqing in it (as indicated in its Chinese name). The dish, a dome of arranged bony chicken pieces, were laden with a garlic-based chili sauce. It didn't feel very hot to our standards, but then neither were the Sichuan peppercorns. There was a faint flavour there, but it didn't manage to numb any of our senses. It was slightly disappointing, but gnawing on the bony bits as the chicken was tender and the marinade has been well absorbed, it wasn't the end of the world, we figured.

Sliced Beef in Spicy and Red Chili Soup (天府水煮牛肉, $88) had that stunning image similar to that of a 水煮魚 (Sliced fish version of the dish). The dried red chilies are all there, and so is the stinging heat and the strong punch of Sichuan peppercorn formerly expected in the chicken dish earlier. This dish, soupy with an abundance of chilies and mung bean sprouts, also featured slices of beef, unfortunately fell into the category of "tenderized". It didn't taste like beef at all, so soft, almost to "meltingly rich". One would've preferred beef to taste scrumptious like beef, but this one didn't, but the other ingredients, like the batons of cucumber and the bean sprouts, were great in the chili broth.

Soup Noodles with Spicy Peanut sauce (担担麵, $23) looked the part, and as we bathed ourselves into a whiff of aroma from the noodles, we were expecting peanuts, or a potent dose of nuts and chilies and heat. This noodle soup wasn't quite near it. In fact, it was faintly nutty, and the noodles were overcooked into a hot mess. It tasted more like a 煨麵, except that the texture wasn't there yet. One can still use chopsticks for this.

Panfried Assorted Meat Dumplings (三鮮鍋貼, 4pcs/$25) were disappointing. The filling was juicy enough, but the wrapper was too thick and doughy at the top, with the pleated crown slightly undercooked (starchy), while the base had enough browning, but it was also very hard, not a light crunch at all. Rounding up the meal we chose the Panfried Glutinous Rice with Assorted Dates (煎8寶飯, $48) It's by far the one and only dish we couldn't find obvious faults in. The dried fruits and peels were sweet as they should be, while the base of this glutinous rice patty was lightly crispy while the entire dessert was right at the perfect sweetness level.

It's amazing how much one can learn from places like this one -- it's not always about how many varieties you can choose, but about how well you develop the dishes you serve. Looking into the glossy menu here with more than enough regional dishes to make three regional cookbooks, I couldn't help but to think that if they take out one particular region and focus more on the other two, the quality could've been different. I can be wrong, but between varieties and quality, how should one choose, in a business where one often is considered to reign supreme over the other? That, is an open question for all of us to ponder on, sometimes at least.

鏞記酒家 (中環)

Where do tourists eat, you asked?

It tells you something, about an establishment like Yung Kee, among others with routine occurences in guidebooks in different languages. It didn't exist all these years for nothing, but then it's equally contradictory to many places with mediocre food -- if the residents of the city don't go, they can rip off the tourists. That's another matter.

A dear friend decided to throw a promising dinner, and I was lucky enough to be on that very same dinner. It's nothing more than a bunch of food buddies. Entering the glorious restaurant of Yung Kee allows one to feel what may be red-carpet glamour of Chinese dining, or at least they'd like you to think so. If only one can get past the half-scowling faces of the hostess who dismissed my request to look for my table. But that need not matter, I thought, sometimes places with reputation may develop some sort of demeaning attitude from the staff, like a by product and it's inevitable.

The tables squeezing into each other on our floor, but dinner was well-planned, with a written menu for everyone to consider, course by course. 皮蛋酸薑 arrived with halves of 皮蛋, each with its serving of glistening molten yolk, glistening with the jellied egg white the colour of coffee turned grey. The fluorescent slices of pickled ginger seemed thicker than anticipated. The preserved eggs, meltingly soft act against the tart and crunchy ginger -- the classic combination reinvented here, it's truly too bad that the thickness of the ginger gave away some big points, but the eggs alone were great. 懷舊扎蹄 came next -- triangular jellied pork slices, fanned out decorated with delicately cut jellyfish at the centre. Each bite into these jellyfish pieces bring up delightful crunches, while the pork slices were soft and flavorful. 崧子雲霧肉 resembled what may be a reddish brown chocolate bar, glazed with a smoky aroma and resting on a bed of glazed granules of pine nuts. The pork itself, through complex preparations, was tender at the meat, and gooey soft in the layers of fat, and a gelatinous, slightly chewy skin, accentuating on extra smoky tea flavour as well.

金牌叉燒 was next -- a mounting pile of barbecued pork on the leaner side, arrived totally glazed. It was nowhere near as good as a fattier cut, but the flavour was satisfactory. The signature 金牌燒鵝, presented like a phoenix taking off in its flight, made quite an impression at the table. Neatly presented, the thin roasted skin had the texture of pork crackling, almost, but the meat was slightly tougher even though the flavour was extra-delicate with the slightest hints of five spice. It didn't require further dip of the plum sauce or anything, as the bird itself was good on its own. Looking over to the next table of American tourists, they made their way through convrsations with sweet and sour pork and a gigantic roasted goose, and their eyes widened with wonder much the same way as a roasted turkey arriving on Thanksgiving. We looked on, wondered how they felt about a Chinese roasted goose...

牛爽腩 was next -- a simple shallow plate holding in the lightest sandy brown of broths, clear with just floating blots of oil across the top with well-arranged beef briskets in one single layer. Semi-translucent strips of briskets attaching to tendons and membranes, gelatinous with a beefy flavour that's almost as good as stewed beef briskets elsewhere (but still not as good as Wah Sze's in Tin Hau, I think) 五秀素炒 is a stir-fry dish with mixed vegetables. The jade green sugar snap peas were crunchy from pods to peas within -- honey sweet and fresh. Shimeji mushrooms made a special appearance and certainly a more surprising ingredient used. 紅燒斑尾 has a thick glaze upon deep-fried tail of garoupa. The fish itself is meaty with minimal seasoning, but the glaze did the job adding flavours. If only the sauce could be slightly thinner than now, although it clings on the fish pieces just fine.

Before the last round of courses, the group of us were quickly sharing dining tips, and recent rare finds. It's amazing how many people out there are in search of good food and are willing to eat anything at any time of the night, despite at work during the day. It's equally inspiring to find that more attention is paid to food, as individuals go the distance to try different things, some newer than others. We looked over to the entrance, a couple with guidebook in hand, gesturing at the waiter on what they wanted to order -- they made a bird-like gesture, the waiter guessed goose; they made other gestures, the waiter made several blind guesses and eventually gave up -- the menu, even with English, couldn't help. Pictures, however, would've helped. Moments later, when a plate of sweet and sour pork arrived at the table, the couple's faces beamed with joy. Turned out dining out in a place where the language is a challenge, isn't so hard afterall.

荷葉飯 -- a stunning bright green round parcel of rice arrived, steaming with fragrant lotus leaf flavour with moist rice granules within. Bits of chicken, salted egg yolk and shiitaki mushrooms filled the cavity of the leaf parcel. 銀絲細蓉 came in individual servings. Small bowls containing wontons resembling tiny goldfish, with hanging wonton wrappers like their tails, swinging in the calmest of waters -- a broth flavoured with floating bits of chives. The noodles were golden strands with strong taste of egg, fine and soft and needed no vinegar or chili sauce to enrich its simplicity. The next table over, a family speaking an unfamiliar European language observed us, as we made out way through our rice and noodles, gestured the waiter over inquiring about the rice (she pointed on...)It wasn't easy explaining the procedures, but as locals we were, we couldn't help but o explain to them what really went on inside "the green parcel". She smiled at our explanations, and it wasn't her intention to order the same thing, but more like having her curiosity fulfilled. Our explanations did the job, and just like that, they went back to their European conversation and us in our Chinese ones, laughing on.

A nut-filled 馬拉糕 arrived, with a candle on top, as our group celebrated the birthday of one of us. With some applause and some laughs later, the birthday boy showed a sincere chuckle, as he blew the candle and the cake shared among us -- Pillowy soft brown sugar cake rose and steamed until light and fluffy. Only slightly sweet, but with a caramel flavour on its own. It's the lightest of textures indeed. At this point we looked on, across the dining room, tables after tables of foreign faces pointing and gesturing describing what they were eating and what others ate. Some nodded in approval, some frowned at different expectations they had. I imagined they would tell others about their experiences -- on paper or online, someone will read their comments and decide on themselves on their next trip to the city, most known for culinary adventures everywhere.

Dining in places we've never been can be quite an experience. It required some understanding on more than the restaurant, or the cuisine served. Some meets our expectations, some don't. Looking over as citizens of the world ate their way through Yung Kee and other local restaurants over the years, helping form the establishment's reputation today. One couldn't help but wonder if these standards can be kept consistently across the years, for many years ahead -- for locals and for foreigners?

田園坊 (灣仔)

在灣仔街頭開了一間名叫Natural Green的小店.是日開舖,見門面的確一片蔬菜的綠色, 但雪櫃內沒有什麼. 店員指出未來一兩天會擺放沙律,三文治等作售賣. 未有吃的, 先來點喝的吧.

小店主打兩種菜果 -- 甜菜頭 (beets) 與金奇異果(kiwi). 金奇異果間中有吃,只覺不來的綠色的奇異果較酸但味道較自然. 甜菜頭多數是製作沙律時間用的.Natural Green 標榜無加水份製作, 但甜菜頭(生的)有一點點的泥味, 所以搭配的蔬果都含較多的水份,而且較甜的. 其中選了甜菜+雪梨(大杯, $20). 一杯大裝的用上一個大如拳頭大的甜菜頭, 把皮削去後, 放入juicer裡, 並放入一塊塊的去皮雪梨.開動機器後便造出比洛神花茶或(紅色)火龍果更深色更濃的"汁"...

起初可以為生的"甜菜頭"製的"菜汁"會很甜, 但實際上不是這樣的. 生的甜菜最突出的反而是那股輕微的泥味, 甜味是有的,但不及雪梨的清甜. 心想甜菜配蘋果或菠蘿可能味道會甜些...

雖說是本地的甜菜頭+以健康有益為基礎, 但甜菜本身的味道始終是acquired taste. 幸好另一邊的menu有金奇異果(配其他水果)的果汁種類. 下次會再來試試.

金牌小龍 (銅鑼灣)

In a dimly lit room, a few masked men crowded around the powdered counter. the cold steel counter was laden with messy piles of everything...With skillful hands they flattened snow-white globes into malleable discs. Tenderly handling them with a dash of pink, and holding them with care. The men neatly nipped and tucked at the foreheads of the now reformed white globes, tucking the sides creating pleats like a miniskirt, eventually closing into a delicate ring at the top. They swiftly rested each pleated globe on fine white linen, and quickly as they fill the round and they're sent right to the other side of the room.

Such is the case for 金牌小龍. The shop in TST has generated enough lines to be called "popular". Yet on the second day of its opening, the new Causeway Bay shop has yet to be discovered. One can see that while the crowds who lunch are elbowing each other for a spot upstairs and downstairs, this newly opened branch is so quiet compared to the others. It's not exactly pin-drop silence, but given the service is impeccable, and the food is made and served promptly enough, there is room for one to wonder if the dining space is packed, if the food is going to be on the same level? But that's another story to be told in the future.

King's Dumplings runs a similar array of dishes much like the well-loved Din Tai Fung, which is not-surprisingly a few blocks away. It's so similar that even the menu layout and the photos are similar. But well, you can't really argue, that soup dumplings should have certain standards-- the plumpness, the round pleated top and the standard sizes. Ordering was easy. Everything on the menu has pictures (for diners who don't already know what certain things are, they give good pointers) And with less than 5 tables filled, food was promptly served.

炸醬拌麵 ($32) didn't really arrive in a bowl, but more like a dish. The neatly arranged noodles were placed at the base, while the brown stew of minced pork, chopped bamboo shoots, and minced dried tofu was ladled across the top, unveiling half of beige white noodles. The sprinkling of scallions catch our attention, followed by a wave of aroma from the brown stewed meat. It resembled what may be an Oriental version of Spaghetti Bolognese, only with a richer preserved soybean paste taste and the extra sweetness and bite from the pork and other ingredients mentioned earlier. The noodles though, were stuck into one piece and required extra work from two pairs of chopsticks to separate them back into strands. The noodles, slightly chewy, were just about perfect with pork and sauce equally clinging along each strand of noodle. The scallions, although not many across the top, provides a slightly sharp garlicky crunch.

蒜泥白肉 ($45) has a surprising look. What amounts to many other similar dishes is often fanned out paper thin slices of pork with a garlic-dominating sauce, so pungent that one would need a double dose of fresh mints within arm's reach. But here the pile of pork is not made up of paper thin slices, and then are not visibly garlicky. In fact the dressing is chunky enough to cling onto the meat slices. An off-orange colour, the sauce is made with a potent dose of minced garlic and what may be the slightest tinge of black vinegar, among other things. The presence of black vinegar lightens the dish and tricks us into wanting more.

台式焢肉飯 ($38) This is not something new, but it's not something particular either. What it essentially comes down to here at King's Dumplings is a bowl of steamed rice topped with braised pork belly and half an egg cooked in 5-spice marinade. The marinated tofu looked slightly dry but a bite into it allowed one to taste all the juices absorbed within the intricate structure inside the tofu. The 5-spice marinade, despite thin, made a very satisfying sauce and flavour on the tofu and the egg itself. The egg, although not soft-molten-yolk (nor was I expecting it to be) was not too-tough, and it actually retained an egginess to the yolk. The pork belly itself was slightly sweeter than antcipated. The smooth skin took on a brownish-burgundy colour while the alternating layers of half-molten fat and tender pork meat were scrumptious and richly satisfying from the texture to the taste.

粉蒸排骨 ($38) is served in an extra-petite steamer basket, almost like pork riblets were packed tightly together ready to leap out of the basket. When uncovered the riblets, coated and marinated with five spice (and a particularly strong note on star anise) were soft and tender, as the juices penetrated into the bony bits and down to the potato chunks that lined the base of the steamer basket. For one who loves five spice this may be the dish for you, although there were occasions where pumpkin/squash was used in place of potatoes. That brought out a completely different flavour in the unusual twist.

金牌小龍包 (6 pcs /$42) are the delicate plump dumplings that gathered around in groups of 6, neatly made at the front of the visible kitchen, where masked cooks skillfully tucked in the rounding edges of the dough, yielding and counting as they go until the entire top of each dumpling is neatly tucked in, forming a ring of a top that resembled a crown. The dumplings were placed on a piece of linen and steamed. When the lid came off, a whiff of steam diminished into thin air, offering a sensational aroma of steamed dough. The wrapper, thin and semi-translucent easily held the pork filling as well as the steaming soup within, all goodness trapped inside the thinnest of wrappers. When consumed (careful, it's hot!) the 'soup' within is meaty but not over-seasoned, while the wrapper, even gathered and pinched at the top, remainly cooked through and bore no signs of uncooked dough. Now this is a pretty good soup-filled pork dumpling, and it needs no extra dip of black vinegar to taint the simple taste of what can be considered a unique icon of Chinese cuisine.

There was still room for desserts, as we approach the menu once again. We paused, pondering on the possibilities of eating something great and yet, simple like soup-filled dumplings that are made so repetitively across the board and few managed to stay consistent. One should bear no expectation to King's Dumplings, and as its opening this week it becomes yet another addition to the list of competitors of eateries of the same nature. It doesn't matter so much whether the location is on the tucked corner at the mall, or even convenient on the street side. It takes consistency to beat the rest, and King's Dumplings, I'd like to try again in a few weeks...I wonder if food and service will be just as good.