A Uniquely Hong Kong Christmas

Days before Bama and I were due to leave for our much-awaited year-end trip, my dad sent me a screenshot of the latest weather forecast for Hong Kong and urged us to pack warm clothes. He was right to worry. It turned out to be the coldest Christmas I had probably experienced back home, with temperatures in the city falling to 8 or 9°C (about 46–48°F) at first — downright chilly compared to equatorial Indonesia.

Bama hadn’t been back since late 2019, so there was plenty of new ground to cover. I was keen to show him the two major attractions in the West Kowloon Cultural District that had opened during the pandemic: M+, a superb museum of visual culture; and the Hong Kong Palace Museum, which houses a collection of imperial artifacts from Beijing’s Forbidden City. Longtime readers of our blogs will know that Bama and I are both history buffs, and fortuitous timing meant we could catch a special exhibition on the mysterious Bronze Age culture of Sanxingdui in southwestern China, complete with recently excavated finds.

Getting around was part of the adventure. Coming from unruly Jakarta, we relished the pedestrian-friendliness of Hong Kong, the more enlightened driving behavior, and lack of errant motorbikes on the roads. (I loved the fact that motorists stopped at red lights and zebra crossings.) We also used nearly all forms of local transport. During those seven days, Bama and I tested out three kinds of ferries, hopped aboard the double-decker trams, clung onto the seat-back handles of a speeding minibus, squeezed into packed MTR subway trains, and even took a humble sampan boat.

A beautiful winter’s morning at Causeway Bay Typhoon Shelter

Dim sum and green beans stir-fried with pickled Chinese olive for breakfast

Painterly mosaic wall art on the platform at Central MTR station

Crossing Victoria Harbour aboard the iconic Star Ferry

Part of the Hong Kong Island skyline just before sunset

The night of the 25th, we dressed up a little and braved the holiday crowds on the Kowloon waterfront to reach the Hong Kong Cultural Center. I have fond memories attending piano recitals and orchestral concerts here with my mom and brother during our teenage years, and a travel writer friend highly recommended Hong Kong Ballet’s version of The Nutcracker. It exceeded all expectations. The visual spectacle wove in references to local culture, from mahjong players and dim sum dancers led by a cartwheeling egg tart girl to jockeys at the horse races. I felt sorry for the poor expat mother sitting directly in front, who repeatedly shushed her younger child when he kept saying, “Mommy, I’m tired!” No one else in the audience paid much attention to the restless boy — all were transfixed by the skill, precision, and flexibility of the ballet dancers from the multicultural ensemble. And the Hong Kong Sinfonietta also impressed; it was a real treat to hear a full orchestra perform iconic compositions like the Waltz of the Flowers. (My favorite parts were the magical harp cadenza and whirling clarinet solos.)

Bama and I took a breather from the frenetic pace at the Asia Society Hong Kong Center, which has reimagined an old military compound on a jungled site not far from the city’s busiest subway interchange. Crisp blue skies and exceptional visibility set the scene for excursions to the outlying islands. We explored sleepy Peng Chau, whose quiet streets hold a trove of independent stores and cafés; took a guided walk along a lesser-known trail in Lantau; and spent Christmas morning hiking on windswept Tung Lung Chau. The latter’s 18th-century cliff-top fort and its tiny information center were closed for renovations, but Bama could at least admire the crashing waves and rugged coastal scenery, not to mention the largest Bronze Age rock carving in Hong Kong.

Of course, I couldn’t resist hunting out some of my favorite childhood flavors at mealtimes. Lunch on Christmas Day was an indulgent baked seafood rice with a generous topping of cream sauce and melted cheese, while breakfast on two occasions included dim sum we rarely get to eat in Jakarta: deep-fried puffs of glutinous rice and pork called ham sui gok and silken cheung fun (rice flour rolls) wrapped around prawn or char siu (barbecued pork). One dim sum spot even put oozy salted-egg custard into a Hong Kong–style French toast. We also discovered a neighborhood bakery that sold cheese tarts and local specialties like pillowy, sweet-crusted pineapple buns and miniature chicken pies — all fresh from the oven.

Inside a harbor-facing gallery at the M+ museum in West Kowloon

A gold mask from the Sanxingdui culture on display inside the Hong Kong Palace Museum

Colonial relics and modern architecture interweave at the Asia Society Hong Kong Center

Claypot rice topped with eel and runny egg at the no-frills eatery Hing Kee

The beach at Tung Wan (literally “East Bay”) on the sleepy island of Peng Chau

After touring the Hong Kong Palace Museum for an afternoon, I brought Bama to a famous old-school eatery named Hing Kee for the classic winter specialty of claypot rice. We stood on the street for 45 minutes and waited another 45 after placing our orders for two portions: one with a topping of white eel steaks and runny egg, the other featuring boneless chicken pieces and a boozy goose liver sausage. Claypot rice isn’t complete without stirring in plenty of sweetened soy sauce, and I forgot to tell Bama not to break up the flavor-soaked crust, which gradually develops at the bottom of the pot.

We soon agreed that Hing Kee’s legendary status was warranted despite the hilariously non-existent customer service. Waitstaff barked in Cantonese at all the prospective diners queuing outside. A beautiful-looking Thai couple mimed to the impatient server that they both needed spoons, then sheepishly ordered a can of coke with a glass of ice, to which she huffed: “Ice is five dollar. OKAY?” They graciously nodded. I watched in amusement as two young women who sat next to us (it is common practice in Hong Kong to share tables with strangers at peak hours) were told to get up and find a menu themselves: “Just go out there and ask the big sister for one!”

Thankfully, staff members were much gentler at the restaurants where we tucked into big meals with the extended family. My parents swapped out the requisite Christmas roast turkey for Peking duck, and ordered julienned emerald-green celtuce stems, mini wontons in chicken broth, and pan-fried minced beef pastries as part of a Boxing Day dinner. Sixth Uncle organized a special feast inspired by the dishes and prominent figures of the Song Dynasty, with each course accompanied by colorful projections narrated in English for Bama’s benefit.

On the penultimate night of the trip, Fourth Aunt hosted a sumptuous banquet for 15 of us in a private dining room. There was fatty, melt-in-the-mouth char siu; scallops prepared two ways — wok-fried with kale and cooked inside piping-hot taro puffs; hand-shredded chicken tossed with black truffle; perfectly made sweet and sour pork; Hong Kong–style curry containing tender beef brisket and potato; the biggest plate of braised e-fu noodles I’d ever seen; and a comforting almond milk–based soup that featured pieces of pork lung, papaya, and chicken feet (trust me, it tastes far better than it sounds). By the time dessert arrived, we had barely enough room for the toffee bananas and baked sago pudding with chestnut paste. Just like that memorable meal, our week in Hong Kong was immensely satisfying. I can’t wait to go back again. ◊

Waves crashing into the coastline of Tung Lung Chau, a sparsely populated island

Two very different sides of Hong Kong — Tung Lung Chau and the revamped Central Market

A shaded path to a campsite on Tung Lung Chau; in the heart of the concrete jungle

My favorite Hong Kong skyscraper — I.M. Pei’s Bank of China Tower