- Only around 25 dai pai dongs, or street food stalls, are still open in Hong Kong, and many have had to make compromises to survive
- Offering delicious, cheap dishes and friendly atmospheres hard to find elsewhere, they continue to attract streams of regulars old and young
It's 6pm in Hong Kong and as the last glow of sunlight disappears, it's time for most people to start winding down. But for Lam Kee-sing, the busiest time of the day is just starting.
Lam is the chef-owner of Sing Kee, one of the few remaining dai pai dongs " street food stalls " in the city. At the stall's location down a narrow alleyway on Stanley Street, in Hong Kong's Central business district, the air is filled with the familiar orchestra of roaring gas burners, sizzling food and the clanking of ladles on woks. Such sounds, however, are becoming harder to hear on Hong Kong's streets today.
Lam is engrossing to watch as he skilfully handles two seasoned woks in the dimly lit, open-air kitchen. He tips a mixture of fish chunks, chopped spring onions and ginger into one wok, and starched pork loin into the other. As the aroma of sizzling meat wafts into the air, he dips a ladle into a palette of seasonings on the side, adding them in swift succession. He swirls the woks and flips the contents one after another, and before you know it, the food is on serving plates.
This rapid-fire cooking method used in dai pai dongs results in the best incarnation of "wok hei" " the so-called breath or spirit of the wok that gives the food its distinctive flavour. The secret behind wok hei hinges on the intense heat that rids the raw ingredients of excess moisture, caramelises the sugars and gives the food's surface a fragrant burnt tinge. The fire and blazing oil give a piquant smokiness to the ingredients, while their original flavours are sealed in.
Sing Kee is one of only 25 or so dai pai dongs still existing in Hong Kong. It is minimally furnished and covered by a characteristic green tarpaulin that protects customers from the elements. It has staunchly maintained its look of yesteryear since opening 70 years ago, from its rusted cast iron fittings and worn utensil holders to the stainless steel soup bowls and orange plastic plates. Its history is reflected in the signage caked in, and obscured by, cooking grease.
Germophobes may worry about the hygiene here, but that doesn't stop its many regulars from continuing to come. The place is full of people chowing down on steaming food, knocking back bottles of Blue Girl beer and relaxing after a hard day at work.
Dai pai dongs were most popular in the 1950s and '60s and were a quintessential part of Hong Kong's food scene. But as complaints about noise and rubbish increased, the government tightened regulations on public order and hygiene, and in the 1970s stopped issuing licences to dai pai dongs. Their numbers have since shrunk by nearly 80 per cent.
Remaining dai pai dongs have smartened up so they can compete with more expensive restaurants and bars in town. They have cleaned up their premises to ensure the government issues renewal licences for continued operation. They have also made compromises " scaling down outdoor areas and moving more of their businesses indoors " to stay alive.
The Hong Kong street food Westerners love … and loathe
Lan Fong Yuen started out as a dai pai dong over 65 years ago in Central. It stays popular by appealing to the early risers starting work at 7.30am with its freshly brewed coffee and silk stocking milk tea, and also feeds hungry office workers on their way home. The present restaurant, however, is a far cry from its ancestor.
"About 20 years ago, we were forced to move indoors as the government set to clear and clean the road," says second-generation owner Lam Chun-chung. There used to be a dozen outdoor tables, but now there are only two seats outside the entrance, and no tables.
The only thing that still gives it a traditional feeling is the open-air front kitchen facing the street, where workers prepare milk tea and coffee. Toast, sandwiches, soup noodles and other dishes are prepared behind the indoor kitchen counter. While business is still brisk, it lacks the feel of other dai pai dongs.
"When I was young, I helped my father (the founder) in the store every day after school," Lam says. "Older patrons would come at the exact same time every day and order the same food. At that time, we delivered orders orally instead of jotting them down. As we knew the regulars' usual choices, I only needed to settle them down and shout to my father, 'so-and-so came'.
"Some customers took away their meals and milk tea, which was served in glass bottles. So before we put up the shutters, I would run an errand through the neighbourhood, to collect the empty bottles. My childhood was all about that. It was fun."
Lam says that when his father ran the restaurant, they only offered a simple selection of food. While he still swears by that frugal menu tradition, a handful of more complicated dishes, such as soup noodles topped with fried chicken fillet, and tomato soup macaroni paired with pork chop, have been introduced since the business shifted indoors. Diversity is needed to hook younger clientele, Lam admits.
On the surface, dai pai dongs are an unpretentious and laid-back alternative to mainstream indoor restaurants that provide simple comfort food. However, what really sells is the atmosphere, agree all dai pai dong proprietors.
I won't retire unless the government stops renewing my licence. And I cannot shut because of my staff. This is their sole earningsLam Chun-chung, owner, Lan Fong Yuen
In years past, when dining out was a rare luxury, dai pai dongs emerged as convivial meeting places and grass-roots canteens. Hong Po-ming, owner of Zang Fai (Glorious Cuisine) dai pai dong in Hong Kong's Sham Shui Po district, says they blurred the social hierarchy as people from all walks of life, rich or poor, would sit together back to back or shoulder to shoulder.
"People would simply turn around and talk to their unknown neighbours, and new friendships were started," Hong explains. "People came here for the convivial atmosphere and 'yan ching mei' (human touch), which were infectious."
Hong, a spry, lanky man, bustles about the dai pai dong, welcoming customers and taking dishes to their tables. He grew up among street markets and spent his teen years helping his family sell live poultry. He developed a good eye for quality ingredients, especially seafood, which he travels to wet markets across the city to buy every day.
Dai pai dongs were all alfresco in the past, which meant people could smoke and drink. Cigarettes and beer were an indispensable part of the meal. They kept the conversation flowing, lightened the mood and gave diners the feel of eating at home.
Dai pai dongs offered a selection of heavily flavoured dishes designed to go with beer. Salt and pepper squid, stir-fried clams with salted black bean sauce, and sauteed goose intestines were favourite beer chasers, Hong recalls.
As old-fashioned and traditional as they may seem, dai pai dongs reflect customers' changes in taste and adapt to new food fads. Their owners have to upgrade the menus and innovate.
"Seventy per cent of the dishes on our menu are updated iterations of the original offerings, or new additions," Hong says.
At Ming Kee in Sha Tin, a part-owner surnamed Fu (who prefers not to give his full name) is proud of the dai pai dong's use of premium ingredients such as scallops, oyster, lobster and sea cucumber.
"The incorporation of premium nourishing ingredients not only 'gilds the lily' in terms of taste and presentation, but helps us make more profits," he says.
Sakura shrimps take mundane fried rice up a notch, while a dab of black truffle adds a flavourful, earthy touch to the humble classic dish scrambled egg with prawns.
Fu says that what distinguishes dai pai dongs from other types of restaurants is that they offer both homestyle fare and "precious treats", all with reasonable prices thanks largely to relatively cheap rents and overheads.
Although running one is hard work and they are in danger of becoming extinct, all the proprietors give a firm "no" when asked if they are thinking of quitting.
"I won't retire unless the government stops renewing my licence," Lam Chun-chung says. "And I cannot shut because of my staff. This is their sole earnings."
"I've no intention to stop running it," Hong says. "I will stick it out so long as I'm physically capable." But he doesn't want his daughter, who helps manage the restaurant, to follow in his footsteps. "It's a tough trade," he sighs.
"It's not a decent and high-paid job " do you think any young people will give it a damn?" Lam Kee-sing asks rhetorically.
Maybe it is a doomed industry.
Sing Kee, 82 Stanley Street, Central, tel: 2541 5678
Lan Fong Yuen, 2 Gage Street, Central, tel: 2544 3895
Zang Fai, 31-33 Shek Kip Mei Street, Sham Shui Po, tel: 2778 8103
Ming Kee, Shop 5-9, Wo Che Market, Sha Tin, tel: 2285 8868
Like cooking? For Asian recipes to make at home for friends and family, visit SCMP Cooking.
Copyright (c) 2019. South China Morning Post Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved.