Enter the Dragon State Kitchen

In Hong Kong’s storied and cutthroat Cantonese BBQ game, one chock-full of glossy, sweet, crackling, roast chunks of meat candy – a term that has also been used to describe the all-male interactive adult revue the ‘Thunder From Down Under’ – there aren’t many who gastronomically shimmy, shake, and gyrate in unison better than the good folk of Dragon State Kitchen.

Having posted up work-wise in Sheung Wan for several years, primarily just ‘Keyboard Cat’ typing away to seem busy and tryin’ to get rich while dyin’ tryin’ the 50 Cent way, Dragon State Kitchen quickly became a staple of my post-work char siu pursuits. My charsuits. 

What’s not to love about fatty candied savory slices of vibrant red pork over a king-size bed of rice and an ice-cold lemon tea to wash it all down, all for HK$60? 

Toss in a wide range of siu mei (Cantonese meats typically roasted on spits over an open fire), service so efficient and brusque that it would make a Waltham Dunkin’ Donuts cashier’s head spin, and a carved-out position less than a 3-minute walk from the Sheung Wan MTR, and it’s obvious why Dragon State Kitchen is continuously a name thrown out there with the legends and likes of Earvin Johnson Jr., Larry Bird, and early 20th-century Purdue University basketball coach Ward Louis “Piggy” Lambert.

Because it makes magic with dem birds and piggies. 

Honestly, I’m surprised by now that I haven’t made a Bruce Lee reference. So, without further ado. It’s time to Enter the Dragon…State Kitchen. 

I Ain’t Talkin’ Bout No Empire, I’m Talkin’ Bout a (Paradise) Dynasty

I’ve said it once countless times and’ll say it again, Fridays in Hong Kong are sacred for this Big Body. In such a cold world, real cold world, it’s incumbent on oneself to do what you know makes you happy while minimizing the things that ultimately cause you internal vexation and strife. 

Staring down the face of an unrecognizable man while pensively (yet thoroughly) brushing your teeth come Monday morning isn’t a great feeling, especially knowing you spent the previous several days deep in the throes of indulgent, ephemeral experiences, vices, and relationships. 

At the ripe old age of 34, I’m getting better at choosing real happiness instead of the illusion of real happiness. For me, it starts with “Friday hangs” with my Farjar, aka my Fahza, aka (aka) my father. “Fahza Fridays.” 

Recently, we switched things up from our usual stomping grounds of Tseung Kwan O (TKO) and ventured out to the now elephant graveyard of one of the most iconic and technically demanding airports in the world – Kai Tak Airport. As of 2024, Kai Tak is (essentially) a dusty sandlot of former glory undergoing ambitious governmental redevelopment efforts, taking a similar shape to many previous cultural centers and their not-so-pernicious shedding of Hong Kong’s heritage.

That’s right. It has its own 1.9 million square foot mixed-use commercial development now. Which is really just a fancy word for a ‘mall’. 

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. 

I Don’t Know Why More People Aren’t Flocking to This TKO Restaurant

Tsueng Kwan O isn’t exactly known as a gastronomic epicenter of Hong Kong. Until about 10 years ago, I’m 99% sure that it was just a flour mill, Elements shopping mall, several apartment buildings, and a couple of turf fields where chubby expat bankers would gather for Sunday league football to relive their glory days of… Sunday league football back home.

And construction. Always construction. 

However, over the last several years, this former Kuomintang loyalist village knew it needed to begin feeding the hefty boys of ‘Brighton past and not so future’. So it started birthing a gaggle of restaurants (upon restaurants) along the Tseung Kwan O South Waterfront Promenade. Eateries, who, in my humble opinion, put a good chunk in Central, and areas of other great gustatory pomp and circumstance, to shame. 

So, I’m here to put this little pocket of food and beverage excellence on your radar, starting with the restaurant that I consider to be, David Goggins-style, carrying the boats – Hygge.

Who’s gonna carry the boats? Hygge will (and does).

Run, Don’t Walk to Get Yourself Fini’s New Haven-Style Pizza

If you’ve read more than a single post on this blog then you may think that I get jazzed about certain foods or things way too easily. On the contrary, I’m usually quite reserved in my gastronomic celebrations (which look somewhat similar to NFL end zone dances) and am known to be a predictable creature of habit with my everyday munchings. So, it requires more than just well-packaged, Instagrammable hype to turn this Big Body from skeptic to believer. 

It’s not about the panache. It’s about the pa-nosh. I’ll see myself out. 

The thing is with Fini’s Italian American in Hong Kong, there was minimal skepticism to begin with. I’ve been an ardent and vociferous supporter of its SoHo branch for many years and can often be found pensively staring down the bottom of an Asahi draft and bowl of their homemade mac n’ cheese post-Peak hike (walk?). 

So, like Don Ready, an American hero (in the company of legends like Henry David Thoreau and David Lee Roth) who stood up for our right to smoke a cigarette while 30,000 feet up in the air, I already knew Fini’s had “the goods.” But I didn’t know just how much better it could get. Enter Hong Kong food and beverage industry titan Vinny Lauria (and fellow New Hampshirite) and a pizza that, outside of New England, is relatively unknown (albeit it is still nationally lauded by pizza critics) – the New Haven-style pizza. 

Here’s why you need to get on down to Fini’s Italian American to pick up one of these coal-fired, thin-crust saucers of perfection before another Hong Kong pizza joint attempts to hijack this apizza (pronounced “ah-beets”) glory and puts you off from ever trying it. 

Flat Iron Burger is the Real Deal: a Concession By Hong Kong’s Nastiest Hater

As I mentioned in my guide breaking down the beefiest, most bodacious burgers in Hong Kong, when Flat Iron Burger came on the scene earlier this year, I wanted to dislike it. I was like Buc Nasty (R.I.P. Charlie Murphy) at The Playa Haters’ Ball in the G.O.A.T.’ed Chappelle’s Show, ‘The Nastiest Hater’ – one of the most diabolical haters this side of the Mississippi. 

I was essentially a Little League father with a dead-end job and a failing marriage, which caused me to become a fanatical supporter of Flat Iron’s predecessor ‘The Butchers Club’. So when I felt my favorite burger in Hong Kong dropped off in quality, it led to me inevitably taking things out on Bryan from accounting and yelling at volunteer teenage umpires who would miss the occasional ball or strike. If you didn’t catch the metaphor, The Butchers Club’s burger was my imaginary Little League son.

Consider this a letter of contrition. Scratch that. Consider this a letter of celebration. As I’ve done so in many facets and instances of life, I came too quick with…judgment. An ‘OPH’ (Original Playa Hater) would have been more cool, calm, and collected, only passing judgment after having tried the burger for himself. Having now frequented Flat Iron Burger five-plus times (with zero intention to stop), it has quickly risen in my power rankings as one of the best burgers in Hong Kong – a heifer harbor prioritizing premium beef and other ingredients, all at an affordable price.

Here’s everything I love about Flat Iron Burger on Elgin Street and why, if you’re in the running for the honor of 2024’s ‘Nastiest Hater’, you need to check yourself before your riggity-wreck yourself. 

Soho Bánh Mì Just Makes Life Better

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, there’s rarely a time when I eat at a restaurant and feel so fervently compelled to immediately hit the laptop for some nonsensical gastronomic musings. But when that holy gustatorial spirit washes over me, it hits hard. Like a rattlesnake-handling Appalachian Protestant preacher before a congregation of 25 devout worshippers, all unsurprisingly related by blood – “OH LAWD, can I get an AMEN!?”. 

Well, Soho Bánh Mì has awakened that spirit, priming both Hozier and me to be taken to church – The Church of Bánh Mì and Summer Rolls. 

And the best part is there’s no subsequent manslaughter trial after Debbie from Middlesboro takes enough venom to the dome to euthanize a bull elephant, all with New Testament excerpts being belligerently shouted in the background. I digress. 

So, now that your mouth is watering (or you’re utterly confused about what this post is about), your palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, here’s everything I loved (and love) about Soho Bánh Mì in Central and why this Vietnamese restaurant should definitely be on your radar.  

Dao Dao Noodles: Everything But the Kitchen Sink in a Single Bowl of Noodles

Big Body has been a bit of a sad boy lately. Caught somewhere in the dreg of the in-your-face requited love bug that appears to have bitten everyone and their cousin and the depravity of Joe Bananas and late-night McDoubles. It has led to a lot of time spent by myself. For better, or worse, I’m unsure.

However, in the pits of dejected Charlie Brown walks and exasperated sighs in front of the mirror while brushing my teeth, there was a shining light. I took a solo trip out to Hong Kong’s eighth-largest outlying island by size, Cheung Chau, to slow my roll, explore a Chinese pirate’s cave, and eat some mothaflippin’ delicious cart noodles. 

Here’s a little bit about Dao Dao Noodles and why I would argue it’s worth making the trip to Cheung Chau for on its own.