There is a reason why your Asian honey is about to outlive you by 7+ years, and that reason is because their diets consist of carbohydrates soaked in a mixture of salt, water and monsodium glutamate (MSG), which is their interpretation of soup. #StereotypingFauxPas
It is for this exact reason that Old Town 97 is not for the faint-hearted (prone to heart attack), Alexa Chung or women in dinky heals with stomachs smaller than a fanny pack. Taste always supersedes nutrition, which is a rule of thumb for good Hong Kong cuisine. These are the people that eat luncheon meat and egg on instant noodles as a mid-afternoon snack… and moi aussi because it’s delicious/cheaper than sushi. Plus, the more you resemble laughing, fat and (therefore) reclining Buddha, the closer to absolute spiritual enlightenment and integration with the universe you are. #GrandmaKnowsBest
In all honesty, I like the food there a disgusting amount… all things considered. I genuinely enjoy the bad service knowing that you could be Prince Harry and the man chopping duck meat wouldn’t wipe his hand to shake yours let alone orientate his entire body towards you to note your presence. This, to me, signifies a complete lack of care for pretension… which appears uncommon in Western dining tradition (unless you’ve stopped off at Pret to buy a Hoisin duck wrap to gracelessly scoff en route) #Humbling
Old Town 97’s restaurant name refers to 1997: the year in which Hong Kong was returned to China after 100 years under the English queen #CasualHistoryFact. I duly realized this after recognizing the Hong Kong flower emblem on the receipt and actually using my brain for something outside grocery shopping and Barthes.
So fuck the dirty burger at your local chicken shop or the canapes with your fancy, in-bred friends… and venture to Chinatown for some grubby grub that will send you into a food coma of beautiful dreams (while your arteries struggle).