The restaurants, stalls, and markets I feature in my Street Eats videos are more than Hong Kong icons—they tell a story about the way we eat (catch up on the whole series on the Bon Appétit streaming app or YouTube). You can hear it at their tables, where the chatter between the waiters and patrons is a near-constant hum. “Should I order this? How about these?” “Is it too much? I can’t miss this one.” Witnessing these conversations tells you something special, and specific, about what it means to share a meal here: You feel the place around you as you eat. The food is not just a product of the chef; it’s the natural outcome of a continuing dialogue between the people making food, the people eating the food, and the city we love. Here, I’m highlighting some of my favorite dishes from the show, and sharing the tools and translations you need to make them at home. Let’s eat.
Steamed Fish at Chan Sun Kee
Cantonese cuisine values high-quality ingredients, with a focus on delicacy, cleanliness, and clarity of flavor. So steaming fish is seen as the best method to highlight the particular tastes of different species. At Chan Sun Kee restaurant, their approach is simple: Start with the freshest possible catch; rub it with salt; cook it right on the platter on which it will be served; and top minimally with aromatics and house-seasoned soy sauce. You should taste little more than the fish itself.
Microwave-Steamed Fish relies on, yes, a microwave to quickly cook large fillets. It may seem like an odd technique, but it takes advantage of the appliance’s heat distribution and trapped steam from the plastic wrap to deliver a flaky and moist fish in minutes, without any lingering cooking odors in your kitchen. Don’t forget the seasoned soy sauce and hot oil drizzle at the end, which gently cooks the scallions scattered on each portion.
Siu Yuk (Cantonese Roast Pork) at Red Seasons Restaurant
My favorite episode in the Street Eats series so far is the one on these whole roast pigs cooked in an underground inferno. Marinated Cantonese-style with salt and sugar, the pigs are pricked all over to create small holes so the seasoning sinks in before they are lowered into fiery pits. As they cook, the prized “sesame skin” forms: consistent, tiny bubbles that give the pork a crispy and crunchy, but never hard, bite, with succulent meat and rendered fat. Since the government has stopped issuing new permits for firepits, Red Seasons is one of the last spots in the city using them to make siu yuk.