City Hall Maxim's Place, Hong Kong

From the beginning, I never thought much about dim sum in Hong Kong. I mean, you could get pretty darn good dim sum in Singapore, why fly all the way to Hong Kong for a few meat-filled nibbles served in bamboo steamers?

Then Luk Yu came along, pricked my heart and suddenly I had an overwhelming urge to have a frigging awesome good time with frigging awesome dim sum. Gee, I sure sound like a bitter ex-girlfriend.

What counts as ‘frigging awesome dim sum’? Well, in my opinion (which counts for something since you are on my blog) ‘frigging awesome dim sum’ isn’t just about technique or the ingredients- that’s technically-proficient critically-acclaimed dim sum.

‘Friggin awesome dim sum’ goes beyond that. It is all about getting emotional as ‘friggin awesome dim sum’ makes you sentimental and competitive. On the most basic level, it is simply dim sum that demands second helpings. It is that irresistible egg tart that quivers down your throat; that last xiao long bao you instinctively swoop off before someone else can make a move on it; that har gow you *har-rt* -er, you get the picture right?

‘Friggin awesome dim sum’ is also about timing. When one has been braving soggy English weather, deprived of student-budget-friendly authentic dim sum, piercing through pan fried carrot cake, prickled with Chinese ham counts for a moment of intense gratification. Thankyew Law-rd!




In addition, ‘friggin awesome dim sum’ heals past trauma and steers you back on the path of Delectable Dim Sum Boulevard. To make up for the disappointing dim sum at Luk Yu Tea House, we made a trip down to Maxim's City Hall.

At Maxim’s, much of the fun is derived from the push carts. Waitresses with frowns cross-knitted on their foreheads, push forth trolleys stacked with steamed, baked and fried goodies, belting out the names of dishes they were pedaling as if announcing the arrival of royalty. Despite the ruckus, order-taking is extremely systematic: differentiated by size and price, you get a stamp on a card for very dish you pick. Whenever a push cart wheels by, my eyes perk up and my eyes glaze over the presentation of tempt-me-not pickings. It’s so easy to get carried away and before you know it, the table heaves under the weight of numerous bamboo steamers and porcelain china.

It comes as no surprise to many that the Cantonese phrase "dim sum" literally means to "touch the heart" but I’m sure not many of you know that it could also mean to "order to your heart's content". Well, that sure resonated loudly at Maxim's City Hall.

We scarfed down the har gows, siew mais, char siew baos, braised chicken feet, steamed pork ribs, egg tarts, cheong funs, lotus paste buns, xiao long baos and so much more.



I’m not usually taken by Chinese desserts. As a kid, I loved mango pudding and now very rarely do I take bean curd skin with gingko nuts (I admit I’m a sucker for anything that’s supposedly good for my skin). Maxim’s soy bean curd is supposedly well-known and for good reason too. It was incredibly smooth so much as that I could imagine advertisers using it as an inspiration for facial products. Advice to my dear readers, if you want your skin to look like this bowl of silky smooth bean curd 20 years down the road, stay out of the sun!



Don’t forget to make space for the roast pork and –no introduction needed- char siew. Gee, I can never get enough of char siew. Despite feasting on char siew consecutively for three days in a row, it never fails to get me excited.

To be honest, I think you can get excellent dim sum in Singapore; perhaps what's missing is the rowdiness, the bad service- the so-called “atmosphere”. Located opposite the Queen’s Pier, Maxim’s City Hall has no trouble filling its hundred tables daily- now that's a lot of hearts “touched”.