Gustatorily Clubbin’ at The China Club With My Fahza

If you’ve followed the blog for any amount of time then you already know that every other week, my father (aka my ‘fahza’ – an Austin Powers reference) and I meet up for lunch, engage in heated discussions about String theory and quantum physics (mainly my lack of understanding about each), and stroll around whatever area we just so happen to be in. 

These afternoons have become sacrosanct and are one of my favorite parts about living in Hong Kong. 

So, in honor of both of our birthdays, his hairline still holding up better than mine, we decided to get ‘Iggy Azalea fancy’ by throwing on our best blazers and heading to The China Club for what I consider to be some of the best Cantonese and Chinese cuisine in the city. 

Here’s a little bit about why The China Club’s retro-chic, old Shanghai and Colonial British-style hybrid restaurant should be on your radar and how to navigate snagging a table at this ‘members-only’ club. 

The ‘Skinny’ on Reserving at The China Club

Website, Address, & Details:

• Location: 13-14/F, Old, Bank Of China Building, Bank St, Central
• Price: $$$ – 7 dishes and two large bottles of sparkling water ran around HK$1200 (USD 150).
  • Yes, while expensive, it isn’t anywhere close to the amount you think it will be and is definitely on the more reasonable side (all things considered). 

First, you know I love you all and I would never write a post about an establishment that is off-limits to the general public. I am the general public. Like Mos Def, “I’m everywhere. The penthouse, the pavement, the curb.” 

So, while The China Club is technically classified as a ‘members-only club’, know that non-members can secure a reservation at their Michelin-star restaurant through the help of a hotel concierge or another member. While some concierge might give you the Blues Traveler ‘run around’ and tell you it just isn’t in the cards, don’t take no for an answer – it’s well within your grasp. 

I’m also 99% sure HSBC Premier account holders, AMEX Centurion card holders, and others of banking and credit card ‘prestige’ can easily secure a reservation as well by simply going through their virtual concierge.  

The point is that while you can’t just walk in off the street and request a table for two, there are seven ways to Sunday to secure a reservation. It just takes a little foresight, finagling, and planning. 

Pale Ale Travel Note: Keep in mind that The China Club has a dress code. So, if you’re anything like me, you’ll have to set aside your oversized cat and dog graphic tees and athletic shorts for the day and exchange them for ‘smart casual wear’. I think that’s simply code for ‘wear pants and don’t look like a slob’. Oh, how I wish this was Bermuda where I could rock the khaki Bermuda shorts with knee-high dark blue fold-over socks. 

Located on the 13th floor of the old Bank of China Building in Central, adjacent to the iconic steel-suspended HSBC Building, the second you step off the elevator, you’re in a 1930s Shanghai time warp. Greeted by a winding staircase to your left, dark hardwood flooring and paneling, and a collage of dictators, your gateway into the main dining room sets the tone of it all. 

Styled to mimic an old traditional Chinese tea house, I wouldn’t say it’s that far off. It’s a blend of art-deco elegance, Chinese opulence, lacquered screens, and absurdist, satirical Communist propaganda – what I imagine would be the personal heaven for a time-traveling art collector with an affinity for Andy Warhol, opium, and The New Yorker. 

The main dining room is chaotic, yet oddly intimate, with vibrant Bruce Lee marquee posters and abstract paintings far outside the realm of my neophytic intellect standing in defiant contrast to vintage photographs and cerebral portraits, red velvet booths and white tablecloth round tables fielding the fruits of a Lanzhou noodle squire’s hand-tossing labor, and high ceilings reflecting the emanating outside light generated by the harbor and money making machines of Cheung Kong Center and present-day Bank of China Tower. 

Waiters in finely ironed white tops and black pants race across the room, bobbing and weaving amongst one another, pirouetting as they place the daily specials and circular bamboo dim sum baskets in front of patrons. The palpable energy is, at first, hard to ignore but subsequently subsides and becomes a soothing white background noise. 

Pale Ale Travel Tip: Michelin-star dining is rare for this Big Body. I’m much more of a late-night kebab or Subway sandwich type of guy. I’m also a noodle fiend. Make sure to check out my post breaking down another fantastic restaurant that my Fahza and I get our noodle fix at – YKY Home Noodles. 

I’m So Char Siu Life It Hurts Sometimes

Bring your reading glasses with you as you’re going to be handed 3 to 4 pieces of gustatorial literature after sitting down. Don’t get overwhelmed, there’s no rush. Bring small Post-It notes to sticky pages and dishes that stand out to you if you have to. Or, do as I do and write down the top dishes you see on your phone. 

I prefer a gastronomic mix of all the menus. A little sampling from the dim sum menu, a smidge from the a la carte menu, a leprechaun’s morsel from the daily specials, and mastication staccato from the dedicated handmade Lanzhou noodle menu. 

I take the ‘We Are the World’ Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie approach, where I assemble a dream team of bites to craft the perfect, well-rounded meal. And that leads me to my Huey Lewis of all bites – char siu.   

Pale Ale Travel Note: Keep in mind that The China Club has everything from char siu to roast goose, braised abalone, shrimp toast, whole lobster, and everything in between – along with traditional vegetable, rice, and noodle dishes that are commonly found at Cantonese/Chinese restaurants in this part of the world. 

Char Siu (BBQ Pork)

Any guesses what my favorite American Chinese dish is? BBQ spare ribs…which are typically prepared ‘char siu-style’. I’m just providing this for reference in case there are any readers in the U.S. looking for a familiar comparison. 

What I’ll tell you is that, yes, BBQ spare ribs may be one of the G.O.A.T.’s of American Chinese cuisine but they pale in comparison to the O.G. – Cantonese char siu (BBQ pork). This rings especially true at The China Club.

I should establish that the biggest fault with Cantonese char siu is that it can often come somewhat dried out and overly fibrous, making it an ordeal to chew (definitely not something Nana and her dentures can handle). 

The China Club’s char siu is as close to “pork candy” as you can get. Glossy, fatty, sweet, and savory, all in a single bite. The caramelized lacquered exterior shines so bright that it reflects my greasy forehead back at me like a handheld mirror, yielding a hint of smokiness for balance.

There’s texture to it, which is what you want. While you don’t want it to be overly coarse in the mouth, there still needs to be some firmness that requires teeth. Otherwise, you’re likely just sucking back globs of pork fat – which is delicious…but your heart will give out after the third or fourth piece.  

We ended up going through two plates of these bad boys, specifically requesting an even fattier collection of pieces for our second plate. This is emphatically the way to go. 

Pale Ale Travel Char Siu Pro Tip: If you prefer your char siu a little bit fattier, simply ask. Usually, it’s no problem for the chefs in the back to put together slightly fattier pieces for your serving. Or, a good chunk of Cantonese restaurants will specifically have ‘fatty char siu’ on the menu – like Kam’s Roast Goose (one of my favorite spots in the city).  

Cheung Fun (Rice Noodle Rolls)

As my father is a noodle fiend, he was, of course, scoping other tables’ plates to see if they had anything worth ordering. One dish, in particular, caught his eye, which turned out to be ‘cheung fun’ – aka rice noodle rolls. While our eyes definitely deceived us, they didn’t disappoint us. 

Silky, smooth, and crunchy, the cheung fun here is full of contrasts. Delicate and light beansprouts yield a satisfying crunch while the almost translucent grilled rice noodles provide a hearty, chewy, and slightly slippery base. 

It’s a texture profile that isn’t particularly popular in the Western world, but a must at any self-respecting dim sum restaurant or canteen. 

Xiaolongbao & Har Gow

Are these Din Tai Fung level xiaolongbao? No. But are they damn good? Absolutely. Did I also have zero clue what the thin orange base was when we first got them? You can bet your bottom dollar on it. 

Hint: the base was a thin carrot slice. 

Next to the char siu, this is “top dog.” Delicate, near-translucent slightly pliable dough cradles well-seasoned, tender minced pork and a broth so flavorful, you’ll wonder why it’s only served by the thimble. These could stand alone solely based on the piping hot broth inside, it’s that good. 

Just as I was telling my father that I had perfected the art of biting into the top of each xiaolongbao and sucking out the scalding hot liquid, all while avoiding any 3rd degree burns on my chin and/or splashback (recoil?) on my Marks & Spencer off the rack blazer, it got me. Just let this be a lesson to you that xiaolongbao, like wild animals that humans try to domesticate, will eventually fight back and win. Sorry, Roy. 

I’m not sure Har Gow gets enough love in the cold, cutthroat “dim sum game,” so I’m here to give it the props it deserves. Shrimp might edge out pork for me as the ultimate dumpling filling. 

It provides more of a textural contrast to the chewier exterior wrapper and requires less concentration to eat. It also has more bounce than this Big Body’s behind in a mirror twerking competition with himself. 

The slightly sweet and savory interior that’s accentuated by a night little hint of nutty sesame oil, captures quintessential dim sum bites in a clean and subtle form. ‘Highly crushable’ is what I’d call these.

Lanzhou Beef Noodles

I’m a man of spectacle. So after walking in and witnessing a man in a white old-school diner top and cap hand pulling noodles like a maestro conducting Beethoven’s 9th, the tableside Lanzhou beef noodles had already chosen themselves. 

Noodles and a show? Sign me up. 

When ordering, you’ll have a choice between spicy or sour beef stock and flat, triangular, chive-shaped (I have no idea what that is actually), or traditional noodles. 

There are layers to this beef noodle soup. A rich, clear broth that’s simmered for hours (allegedly) with beef bones, star anise, cinnamon, and clove (along with ginger and garlic) lays the aromatic foundation. 

Clean yet full-bodied and undoubtedly something both Joe Rogan and the Liver King would drink by the gallon each morning to elevate T levels should they ever be so lucky to try it. 

We opted for a medium-spicy broth with triangular noodles, the latter taking a slightly thicker shape (like yours truly) and a chewier profile than traditional thinner stretched noodles. I generally find triangular and flat noodles to pick up the simmered beef broth (or whatever broth you end up eating them with) more effectively than its predecessor. 

The beef, tender and somewhat marbled with fat which adds extra richness and depth, puffing up like this Big Body’s face the next day after a night of too many Suntory Premium drafts at Shugetsu. 

Garnished with vibrant fresh cilantro and green onions to cut through the richness of it all, and you have a dish that has achieved something this newly-minted 34-year-old has still yet to achieve (or come anywhere close to) – balance. 

Yuxiang Eggplant

Finally, don’t sleep on the glazed eggplant here. It took me back to my days of living in Shanghai, when I’d frequent a little Xinjiang ‘shaokao’ (barbecue skewer) stand run by Babir from Kashgar.

He happened to ride one of those giant bicycles similar to the one Kermit the Frog rode and he also “happened” (Dr. Evil air quotes) to sell me some of that sticky icky icky – which we would inhale out of a large hollowed-out gourd he carried on him and then toss back lamb skewers and garlic stuffed eggplants until the wee hours.

It’s meaty, lightly breaded and fried, and walks a fine line between sweet, salty, and sour thanks to the liberal coating of ‘yuxiang’ (fish-fragrant sauce) – which doesn’t actually contain fish, rather chili bean paste, garlic, ginger, vinegar, sugar, and soy sauce. 

Pale Ale Travel Tip: I probably should have added this to my post on what my perfect day in Hong Kong looks like, as I’m not sure there’s better living than a hang with the old man while tossing back fatty char siu like it’s our job. 

Forget Club Bottleservice, It’s All About Noodle-service

No trip to The China Club is complete without a stop by the library and the rooftop for views of the former headquarters of the failing derivatives crypto exchange Bitmex and other iconic Central/Admiralty skyscrapers.

Now and again, you gotta throw on your finest blazer and slacks, trim the eyebrows, and treat yourself. 

You gotsta. 

And, there aren’t many better spots in Hong Kong than The China Club (in my humble opinion), especially when you’re in the market for refined takes on Cantonese and Chinese classics in a quirky and storied institution – with nearly everything speaking to and summing up Hong Kong’s (withering) gastronomic and cultural heritage. 

If you have any questions about eating or drinking in Hong Kong, please don’t hesitate to reach out! 

I’d also love to hear about your favorite Cantonese/Chinese restaurants in Hong Kong and how you think The China Club stacks up compared to them. 

Eat well everyone,

Big Body