Char No. 4: Come for the extensive selection of scotch and whiskey, stay for the hot beef links and slab bacon, leave satisfied and slightly buzzed.
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Asia Recap: Hong Kong
How long is the sixteen-hour flight to Hong Kong? It’s long enough that the plane nearly ran out of water. We didn’t get into “if it’s yellow, let it mellow” territory, but the captain told us to stop running the taps about an hour before landing. How long is a sixteen-hour flight? It’s long enough that I chose to watch Get Smart on my seatback video. And, given the restricted amount of oxygen pumping to my brain, I was mildly amused. Sixteen hours means you can get a full night’s sleep and your flight is still only half over. It’s long enough that the flight path—depicted on a CGI globe, the only way to show the distance involved--from JFK is due north, over the North Pole and onto the other side of the earth.
The idea of coming out the other side in Hong Kong rings true, somehow. It’s an alternative-universe New York; New York with a goatee, New York wearing a cheongsam under a business suit. My first trip to Asia started in Hong Kong because I thought it would feel familiar. My college roommate was from Hong Kong, and he told me time and time again that New York couldn’t compare to HK. My hometown had 400 people--I was just happy to get food delivered—but seeing New York and Hong Kong as analogs stuck with me.
That logic placed me in a Hong Kong that felt familiar yet wasn’t. I could get around, but what I knew was cockeyed. Fighting a cold, when I was able to identify and purchase cold medicine in a Lang Kwai Fong pharmacy, but the cashier wouldn’t let me buy a chilled bottle of water to wash it down. He insisted it would just make me sicker. “It’s bad for your throat!” I gave in. I wanted my pills.
Walking the streets on my first night was a pleasant waking dream laced with cold medicine, jetlag and neon. In Tsim Sha Tsui, I turned down Hau Fook, a crowded street with dozens of inexpensive restaurants and home décor store named Homeless, that, of course, was going out of business. I had my favorite meal in the city here, a $4 bowl of Yunnanese-style cold noodles with pork belly, cabbage and peanuts. And what service! My waiter was champing at the bit to name six of New York’s famous bridges to me. He even remembered the Verrazano.
I find Kowloon more accessible than Hong Kong proper. It felt ten years behind Hong Kong proper—making it just the right speed for an overwhelmed first-time visitor like me. Crumbling bits are everywhere, like a half-antiquated, half-futuristic alleyway bathed in blue lights and lined with air conditioner exhausts. It looks like a lost set from Brazil. Nearby, the city’s ubiquitous bamboo scaffolding add a touch of Blade Runner.
It’s hard to find chink in Hong Kong’s armor. I only get flashes of what the real, solid, or old. Walking though a side street in Central, I pass a small restaurant row lined with plastic chairs and tarpaulin roofs, with fish dangling in front of each establishment. The turnstiles at the Star Ferry have a satisfying clunk; my subway pass is made of chunky plastic thicker than any of my credit cards. But these are just remnants. The rest, it would seem, was chewed up but modern Hong Kong—just like New York.
On my last night, I notice a corner bar in Tsim Sha Tsai named Athena. The mountains of flowers piled outside lure me, looking for all the world like a makeshift memorial. When I get closer, I see that the flowers are from other neighboring bars wishing their new competitor good luck. A nice gesture, though the funereal bent from the flowers is more ominous then generous. Inside, a Mariah Carey concert DVD plays on each the bar’s flat-screens and over the sound system. I buy a beer and listen to the high notes. Mimi sure seems emancipated. I feel emancipated, too.
Let's Go!
(Photographed in Bayou St. John, New Orleans, LA)
Where I Went in 2008
Almost forgot to post this. It's a little late, but then again, I haven't really gone anywhere in 2009 yet.
New York, NY
Budapest, Hungary
Prague, Czech Republic
Den Haag, the Netherlands
Clintondale, NY
Memphis, TN
Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic
Mariánské Lázně , Czech Republic
Plzeň, Czech Republic
Chebeague Island, Maine
Las Vegas, NV
Boston, MA
Hong Kong
Singapore
Johor Bahru, Malaysia
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Bangkok, Thailand
Tokyo, Japan
Multi-Sentence Review: Absinthe
I’m a sucker for marketing, so when I noticed that Absinthe, a small plates restaurant on First Avenue just south of Seventh Street listed “Sliders of Elegance” on its menu, I was going to find my way inside sooner or later. Think of them as iPatties, or Crystal Pepsi Burgers. Alas, they won’t be called “Sliders of Elegance” for much longer—no one else liked the name but me. So much for marketing. That’s not the only thing that will be renamed; the moniker of the whole restaurant will change soon, too. “Too many Absinthes,” the owner told me, “so we’re going to change the name to La Boheme”. As long as they don’t call it Rent, they should be fine.
The restaurant, whatever the name, is still in the early stages of sorting things out. Conceptually, it’s great. They are on target for the times and neighborhood: small plates, low prices, and some of the least expensive glasses and bottles of wine I’ve ever encountered in Manhattan. Dishes runs from $6 to $14, depending on what you order; goat cheese stuffed with brie is cheaper than the grilled quail, of course.
I tried three plates and a dessert, enough for a deuce. It’s the wrong season for corn, but the raviolo with corn and ricotta was suitably spring-like, sauced with a pink tomato sauce and topped with shaved parmesan.
Two seared sea scallops are paired with fried cauliflower and a horseradish mayonnaise; the scallops were fat and juicy, but a bit tougher than I’d like.
My coveted “Sliders of Elegance” were two small patties, one made with lamb and garnished with red onion compote, the other with Kobe beef and a shaved Parmesan. The sweetbread slider on the menu was swapped for the Kobe. The owner said he pulled the sweetbread from the menu because “it wasn’t very good”. Very well, then.
So are these truly sliders of elegance? I confess, I had no desire to do soft-shoe after I ate them, and I still don’t own a tux. To me, elegant implies staid, and that was the case here: great ingredients with a so-so execution. At least amaretto bread pudding was a winning note to end on, dense and drizzled with crème anglaise.
Then there’s the wine list, which features about 100 varieties. The price for bottles here is stunningly low; many bottles are in the mid-to-low twenties. In a way, it makes the spotty quality of the dishes coming out of the kitchen that much more forgivable. Who cares about a dud or two at that kind of price point? Besides, the quality will up as they sort out some of those misses themselves--no matter what they are named.
