On our last trip to Hong Kong I finally returned to one of the city's most picturesque locales, quaint, remote and relatively unknown 25 years ago when I first visited. Since then it has gained minor popularity among foreign and Mainland Chinese tourists, though the quaintness and remoteness still stick.
Getting to Tai O is always an experience in itself -- this time we took the little ferry from Tuen Mun (45 minutes) on the way in, and the meandering bus ride (60 minutes) to Tung Chung MTR Station on the way back. Counting the various Green Vans and MTR rides from urban Hong Kong, we could have easily taken a day-trip to Shenzhen and back. Of course, Tai O is a thousand times more charming than shady foot parlours.
Tucked away at the sparsely populated northwestern edge of Lantau Island, Tai O is about as inconvenient as it gets among Hong Kong's tourist attractions -- though one could argue that it's the same inconvenience that has saved the village from the insatiable urbanization that turned nearby Tung Chung into yet another satellite city to Kowloon.
The smell of sundried shrimp paste greets visitors as they arrive at the little concrete pier, dotted with line-fishing anglers who would spend hours of their spare time hooking a few humble (but increasingly hard to find) Lai Mang fish for congee. This is worlds away from the hustle and bustle of Central District.
As tourism brochures focus on Tai O's signature stilt houses on mud flats, its centuries-old artisan industry of salt-curing fish and historical relics from the Tanka ethnic minority, most first time visitors would miss exploring the plethora of hole-in-the-wall eateries serving authentic Hong Konger street snacks. This time we purposely arrived with empty stomachs and visited four different street snack vendors, in addition to a classic Tai O lunch spot, on this half-day trip.
STREET SNACK #1
Just steps from the Bus Terminal we came across arguably the most popular of Hong Kong's original hawker food, some ginormous fish balls in original or extra spicy flavor served at an anonymous roadside stand. For HKD$12 (CAD$1.7) we shared two tangerine-sized fish balls, the curried version being my perpetual favorite.
STREET SNACK #2
Following the stream of villagers north of the terminal, one would inevitably pass by the popular Bus Terminal Soft Tofu at Wing On Street No.57, best known for the summer favorite of stone-ground Tofu Fa, or soft tofu dessert.
Compared with other artisan Tofu Fa makers such as Mongkok's Kung Wo, here the texture was slightly thicker and the flavor of soybeans was more pronounced. While the price of HKD$10 (CAD$1.4) per bowl was comparable with similar shops in urban Hong Kong, the owner here was undoubtedly making a fortune considering Tai O's cheaper rent.
A tiny wobbly Sampan boat used to be the only means of crossing the narrow creek when I visited many years back. Now a narrow footbridge carries the pedestrian traffic as well as offering spots for villagers to sun dry their sieves-full of salted fish and roes.
Less than a minute's walk north of the bridge stands one of heritage symbols of Tai O, a Qing Dynasty shrine with the ornate glazed roof tiles to tell the stories of Guan Di, a historical-character-turned-minor-deity in the local tradition.
Fans of Hong Kong films would know Guan Di as the deity revered by local policemen and Triad gang members alike, but judging by the dusty altars this shrine probably receives less visits from worshippers than curious tourists dropping by to play with the cowhide drum.
STREET SNACK #3
A few minutes west of the temple, we discovered this hidden gem of a hawker specializing in the traditional Hakka snack known as Cha Guo.
On first glance it's nothing but a crumbling, makeshift stall with a middle-aged guy selling Cha Guo out of a styrofoam box. But look again at the huddle of local housewives and grannies, and we knew this place was definitely legit. The exact location is difficult to describe, but it's about 5 minutes walk northwest of the pedestrian bridge, near Shek Tsai Po Street No.100-ish.
Fans of Japanese Sasadango would appreciate Cha Guo's uncanny similarity in the chewy glutinous rice dough and wrappings of bamboo leaves, except this was 2500 km away from Niigata. Compared with sweet Sasadango, these Hakka delicacies came with a sweet version with crushed peanuts and sesame, and a savory version with minced pork and Mei Dou beans. The price? Just HKD$5 (CAD$0.7) each.
Further west of the Cha Guo vendor was the Tai O Post Office where one could still pick out the insignia of Queen Elizabeth II on the post box, a colonial era relic now painted over with a hideous teal green instead of the blazing red of Royal Mail.
LUNCH SPOT
For lunch we took advice from some Hong Kongers and successfully found Wang Shui Do Siu Chu, located at Kat Hing Street No.33 just northeast of the pedestrian bridge. The specialty here? Old-fashioned Cantonese recipes of fresh caught or salt-cured local seafood, with heavy influence from the Tanka ethnic minority.
One such traditional -- and time-consuming -- recipe calls for the deboning of white cuttlefish, assiduously hand-pounding to achieve that highly desired chewiness in texture, and deep-frying until these patties become golden crispy to the bite. Seasoning was hardly necessary with ingredients this fresh out of the sea.
We did not leave Tai O without a taste of its famous shrimp paste. The robust, alluring aroma of crustaceans filled the entire restaurant long before this dish of Mixed Stir-Fry ended up on our table. Despite being highly prized by Cantonese gourmands, strong odours from shrimp paste's organic fermentation has marginalized its production to such remote villages at the periphery of Hong Kong. This seafood lunch for two come to about HKD$190 (CAD$27).
After lunch we took a stroll along the creek side, passing by this tiny landing flamboyantly named Tung King Ma Tau, or Tokyo Pier, after the popular corner store that has served as a Tai O institution for decades.
Widely embraced as the most eccentric sight in Tai O, Tokyo Store hosted a mishmash of cheesy gnomes, overgrown bonsai and an overabundance of bizarre characters painted onto plywood boards, with themes ranging from 16th Century classic novels to animals from the Chinese Zodiac to sexy ladies in bikinis doing hula hoops. And on top of all that, the store sign was flanked by what almost passed for a Chinese couplet ... except that the poem didn't follow any lexical rules.
The creativity behind the folk art, 86-year-old Lo Sai Hei, scurried around his store as usual, chatting up curious tourists and serving a few bottled pop on this sweltering afternoon. Every visitor would take an obligatory selfie with the legendary statue of Snow White, donated and shipped all the way from New Zealand after a Kiwi couple saw Lo's "bounty" for a Snow White to keep company with the Seven Dwarves he already owned.
STREET SNACK #4
Just steps from Tokyo Store, a 30-minute queue was developing outside this rundown shed of a workshop, clouds of white smoke billowing from the store front. As the mostly local clientele patiently waited, we joined the queue not knowing exactly what we're getting into except for the curious sight of a vintage 1950's style charcoal stove.
As the first batch came out with the enticing aroma of burnt butter, our mystery snack turned out to be the Hong Konger favorite of Gai Dan Jai, or Bubble Waffles, broiled over an old-fashioned charcoal fire that has become extinct in urban Hong Kong amidst 21st Century air quality legislations. The elderly artisan would then start handcrafting the next batch, taking close to 40 minutes before finally getting to our order. HKD$15 (CAD$2) was a small price for a made-to-order waffle from the master's hands.
This was easily our favorite street snack of the day, and as close to a perfect Bubble Waffle as anyone could ask for -- expertly charred around the edges, crispy on the crust, pillowy soft at the centre but not at all soggy. For any reader planning to visit Tai O, this nameless stall was located at Kat Hing Street No.59, about 5 minutes walk northeast of the pedestrian bridge.
On our return leg the bus negotiated some seriously winding roads, slowing down around the occasional feral cow before delivering us to Tung Chung and its high-end outlets catering to affluent Mainland Chinese tourists on their short layovers at the HKIA. While visitors may love or hate the eccentricity of Tai O, there are simply too few of these compared with too many Tung Chungs in 21st Century Hong Kong for my preference. I'm sure most Hong Kongers would agree.
