Dear Hong Kong, I’m sorrynotsorry

Dear Hong Kong,

It’s a truth universally acknowledged by pretty much everyone who has ever visited you, that your food scene is second to none. From the street carts selling all manner of anything skewered and barbecued, to the Michelin-star dining that can be found pretty much anywhere and at great prices (food game is strong, we get it guys).

A truth I don’t like to universally acknowledge: metaphorically speaking, my eyes are disproportionately bigger than my stomach. (Un)fortunately, my eyes are the only organs of my body capable of absorbing insane levels of #foodporn on Instagram, and it was a post of what looked like the World’s Most Insane Dessert that lead me down a quiet side street in Wan Chai, to Oddies Foodies, to complete what turns out was my only real mission in HK: to find – and demolish – said dessert.


Hong Kong, I am so sorry for breathing like a bush pig down the necks of the dozen or so people in line before me in a way that was, in hindsight, intimidating and disgusting in equal measure. In my defence, I’m one of five kids, so I get competitive when it comes to food. Plus, I had travelled a long way to get there. Had I not been too busy hopping from one foot to the other in a frantic state of FOMO, perhaps I would have noticed that almost everyone in front of me was ordering standard, plain egg waffles in a paper cone. No local in the know is idiodic enough to order what I came for – the Night Wolf.


I am sorry for using my outside voice to breathlessly recite my order to the poor girl behind the counter. And then for not leaving the counter to wait outside. And for asking the girl whether I can get two lots of extra napkins, three times. But you must understand that a cup of vanilla and dark chocolate gelato topped with crumble, banana ice-cream, passionfruit panna cotta, crunchy flakes, a brownie and a fat choc-chip egg waffle is going to get anyone into a state. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. 

Looking back, I’d also like to retrospectively apologise for walking out onto the street grinning like an madwoman and probably disturbing a few fellow customers. I’m sorry for deciding to abandon all dignity and sit on the street corner to devouring this Night Wolf (man, that sounds unnecessarily filthy) in a manner that can only be compared to Mr. Bean hoovering chicken drumsticks. I’m sorry for the double-takes of passers-by clearly not used to seeing such intemperance on a street corner. And I’m only half sorry for considering a second round.

I hope we can still be friends.