Goodies First

Dec 18

Margaret’s Café e Nata

Of the three treats one might seek out in Macau, egg tarts were the only one I got to. Jerky is all over Hong Kong so I wasn’t worried, but I may regret not making time for a pork chop bun.

In a perfect world I would compare tarts from Lord Stow’s and Margaret’s. Coloane is a trek but Margaret’s was just down a little alley one block from the Hotel Lisboa where we stayed our last night. It feels hidden but there’s nothing secret about it. On a Sunday afternoon all of the outdoor seats were taken and there was a huddle (Chinese aren’t big on lining up, or rather queing as they like to say in both Singapore and Hong Kong with a nice Q reminder painted on the ground in front of taxi stands. As an aside, as much as Singaporeans are rigid rule followers, they totally don’t let riders off the subway before rushing on, an aberration to even the rudest New Yorker) of customers crammed into the small storefront waiting to be helped.

Egg tarts are a regular at Chinese bakeries. But the Hong Kong style uses a stiffer shortbread crust and the custard is smooth with an unblemished canary yellow top.

The Portuguese style favored in Macau (as well as Chinese KFCs) is slightly different, richer and more flavorful. These are wobbly custards encased in flaky, buttery puff pastry layers. The surfaces are burnt in spots and caramelized.

What I found surprising is that these goodies do not have a long tradition in Asia. From I understand they were brought to Macau in the '80s by an Englishman, Andrew Stow of Lord Stow's Bakery, and were meant to replicate pastéis de nata from Portugal, of course. This convoluted history makes perfect sense for such a culturally mixed island, somehow.

My only crime was not eating these while they were still warm, but I had just finished a multi course lunch at Galera a Robuchon across the street. Yes, you get them straight out of the oven and it’s worth braving the crowds for.

Margaret’s Café e Nata * Gum Loi Building, Rua Almirante Costa Cabral, Macau

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Dec 17

A Lorcha

It was crazy to think we’d manage A Lorcha after a big late afternoon meal at Fernando’s, but since I never get up early enough for breakfast on vacation (or weekends ever) I at least have to get in two meals per day for maximum eating experience.

I missed my Saturday night reservation because I was jetlagged and couldn’t drag myself out of bed. I wasn’t particularly hungry Sunday evening either, still feeling the effects of a multi-course lunch at Robuchon a Galera, but Macanese food had to fit into the schedule, pathetic appetite or not.

A Lorcha is on the same strip as Restaurante Litoral, a restaurant similar in look and style–white stucco, dark wood beams and brick arches–that I tried in Macau previously. Both serve hearty fare in portions way too big for two to explore adequately. That probably explains why so many pushed together tables were occupied by extended families.

I’m always game for a pig’s ear salad and had no idea what to expect. The cold slices are definitely about texture, more cartilage than flavor. I was hoping all the little white bits weren’t raw garlic but they were. It was way overpowering and I’m not sure if that was intended or not. That’s not to say I disliked this dish; it was just very strong in all aspects, oily, vinegary, and not terribly meaty.

I would’ve tried the African chicken to compare it to Litoral’s but James insisted he didn’t like it last time. I don’t think that’s true. To appease, I ordered Macanese chicken to see what the difference would be. It turns out, I prefer the African chicken, which is a stiffer oilier curry. Macanese chicken is mild, stewy and coconut milk based with roughly chopped chicken pieces and potatoes chunks similar to a Malay kari ayam I later made in a Singaporean cooking class. It’s not too far from a Thai massamun curry either, if that’s more familiar.

I never know what to do with all the sauce and it seems wrong to eat potatoes and rice. This serving was enough of a meal by itself but I can’t justify eating only one dish for dinner, especially in a country I may never get to again.

And I’m glad that I overindulged because the clams and pork were worth it. I love the uniquely Portuguese combination. Why not combine shellfish and meat? Clams are fine by themselves but sometimes you want something more substantial, and I guess, fatty. I was expecting little bits of pork but ratio between the two ingredients was almost equal.

I’m still not sure what makes food Macanese. Most of what I’ve encountered seems either Portuguese or sort of Malay or even Filipino (much of the staff and customers at both A Lorcha and Litoral were Filipino) not so much Chinese. I’m not feeling wild culinary fusing.

Of course I’m dying to try Macao Trading Co. which opened just before I left the country, despite being highly suspicious of the venture. I mean, in a way it’s kind of brilliant to sell a mishmash cuisine that most New Yorkers know nothing about in a rustically flashy setting. Maybe someone could sex up Guyanese food next? Interestingly, it looks like they’ve divided their menu up into Portuguese and Chinese versions of the same ingredients with little hybridism whatsoever.

A Lorcha * Rua do Almirante Sérgio 289, Macau

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Dec 17

J.Co Donuts & Coffee

1/2 I wonder if people in Malaysia read about fast food sensations on NYC blogs? Probably not. I keep tabs on a few Singaporean and Malaysian blogs, and one of the things I find most fascinating are foreign trends. In the mid-2000s I kept hearing about Rotiboy, which I eventually tried.

Last year I started noticing internet chatter about Indonesian donut chain J.Co. I was particularly amused by their use of outré ingredients like cheese. And the alcapone donut combined with a bullet hole motif on the company’s cardboard boxes was kind of sassy.

So, when I was unexpectedly faced with a big J.Co Donuts café with seating (I always imagined them as a take out counter) at Bugis Junction right after a fun stop at Raffles Hospital, a block away, I had to sample the wares even though I’d just eaten sweet, buttery kaya toast.
One vacation problem is that I use the break as a license to snack with hedonistic abandon. I’d buy anything that caught my fancy whether or not I had an appetite for it at the time. Consequently, lots of snacks sat around the hotel room not getting eaten at their prime.

I thought getting four donuts to share with another was being kind of gluttonous, but I had nothing on the two teenage boys in front of me in line who got three donuts apiece on a plate to eat right there on the spot.

These donuts, mocha and tiramisu, had a glossy unusually thick layer of frosting that would be gooey if fresh and warm. When I tasted these the next morning, they were still good but the chocolate had hardened like Magic Shell. It was almost like having a candy layer atop a donut that wanted to flake off in chunks.

Green tea tasted like green tea; I’m more into the color than the flavor. The most interesting donut by far was the cheese. James was scared of it, but I thought it had grotesque charm. I actually prefer hole-in-the-middle non-filled donuts just for the sweet bready yeastiness. This has all that softness with a salty melted parmesan-esque (funny, I just looked up their own description and it's "New Zealand cheese." I told you Southeast Asia was obsessed with Kiwi dairy) coating. I expected something more bagel-y, but nope, it was a genuine donut encased in cheese just like it looked.

It wouldn’t make a half-bad breakfast treat, especially if it had some bacon crumbles sprinkled on. Though being Southeast Asia, they’d most likely use “floss,” the ubiquitous flaked jerky that shows up in strange places.

J.Co Donuts & Coffee * Bugis Junction, 200 Victoria St., Singapore

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Dec 16

Fernando’s

Update: I've heard downhill reports, but I wouldn't say that was the case on my July 2012 re-visit. But I would say that nothing's changed in three-and-a-half years. In fact, my new photos look practically the same as what's below but I feel the need to mention them in case anyone's interested. I imagine everything will look exactly the same in another three-and-a-half years too.

* * *

There was no way I was going to miss Fernando’s on this visit to Macau. After being thwarted by uncooperative cab drivers (after 30 minutes trying to flag one down) during a frustrating daytrip three years ago, I planned ahead this time.

What we hadn’t planned on was spending our first three nights of vacation on the former Portuguese colony. Originally, we intended to take the ferry from Hong Kong and back the Tuesday before heading back to NYC, just lunch and dinner. But we had to make an emergency change to our itinerary after arriving in Hong Kong Friday night with no connecting flight to Bangkok available (I’m still steamed that we had pay the full ticket price when we never got to our intended destination).

Rather than spend our entire two weeks in Hong Kong (a perfectly nice city but not for that long) we decided to regroup in nearby Macau and hoped to pick up the second leg of our Thailand journey after a few nights (way too optimistic). One downside was that while trying desperately to check hotels in the airport with wi-fi that cut out every few minutes, we found out that nearly everything was booked for the weekend or going at a premium. Not wanting to take a chance on a weirdo hotel, (hey, Macau is still kind of seedy despite it’s shiny Vegas aspirations) we went against our loose, unspoken budgetary rule (I don’t spend more than $200 per night on hotels and try to keep it under $150. Everything I’d booked in Bangkok was under $100 so this screwed up things completely. Yes, I am a tightwad.) and reserved a fairly luxurious, over the top, large scale, royal-hued semi-‘90s in feel room at the brand new Sofitel. After traveling for over 24 hours and by nearly all methods—plane, train, taxi and ferry—and stymied by already not having the vacation I’d planned for months, I just wanted to collapse on an enormous pile of down-filled pillows.

And eat suckling pig. By the next afternoon we were ready to tackle Fernando’s. And this time by public transportation. I’d learned my lesson about taxis. Catching a bus (21A or 26A if you care to replicate the route) from Senado Square is easy and at only five Patacas, (about 63 cents) an incredible bargain. The 45-minute ride to Coloane is scenic once you get past all the new casino construction in Taipa. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to finagle a seat (we got one half-way through) and relax during the windy drive to Hac Sa beach.

Though it was too cool to indulge in any sand or surf, the weather was just fine for having a drink in the backyard bar while waiting for a table. Oddly, there was no vino verde by the glass so I had to settle for house white. I was thrilled by the temperate, light jacket weather; the 60-something-degrees nearly erased my sweaty and cranky August 2005 memories. Even though both front and back rooms were filled around our 4pm arrival, we didn’t wait for more than 15 minutes. I’d heard service-related horror stories, and sure, the staff all but ignores you, but I’ve had much brusquer and careless treatment in NYC.

It’s fair to call Fernando’s touristy but since that includes mainland Chinese, Hong Kongers, Australians and not really any Americans with fannypacks, I was ok with it. This was the only place I ever heard a Spanish accent the entire vacation (Latinos just don’t go to Asia it seems) from a young Mexican woman with a German boyfriend sitting next to us.

Warm Portuguese rolls are a must. The old lady sitting on the other side of us stuffed a few of these yeasty behemoths into her purse. Practically every restaurant in Singapore and Hong Kong that offered foil-wrapped butter served New Zealand’s Anchor brand, and we also encountered a New Zealand ice cream chain in malls. Apparently, New Zealand is the Wisconsin of Southeast Asia.

Portuguese choriço isn’t loose and fresh like Mexican-style or even quite like the firmer cured Spanish version. These links were salty, paprika-spiked and chunkier textured in the casing with charcoal tinged edges. Being way too much for two, we made like our table neighbor and James stuffed our leftovers in his bag. This came in handy as a meaty midnight snack when I fell asleep back in the hotel by 7pm, still jetlagged and unable to stay awake for a dinner (the pitcher of sangria didn’t help). I’m never able to stay awake on the second day in Asia. I’m still mourning the hot pot dinner I never got in Beijing because I couldn’t get out of bed.

Ok, sucking pig is the reason to come to Fernando’s. And while well-traveled foodies might scoff, claiming better pork and Portuguese cuisine elsewhere in Macau, I was impressed and my view wasn’t just colored by the journey and rustic trappings. For one, the meat tastes richer, and for lack of a better word, porkier, than what I’m accustomed to in the U.S. I could only eat a few pieces when normally a couple of slices wouldn’t seem satisfying enough.

The skin is the star. Sure, it’s crispy, but tissue paper thin rather than bubbly and thick like chicharron or lechon. Biting into the burnished exterior is almost like cracking a crème brulee with a nice layer of fat beneath the shell instead of custard.

Clams are sautéed in wine, and are perfectly edible. I would rate this dish higher if I hadn’t had such an amazing clam and pork rendition the following night at A Lorcha.

With my first meal in Asia being a glitch-free success, I had renewed hope for the rest of the vacation.

Fernando’s * Praia de Hac Sa 9, Macau

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Dec 15

Picture Perfect

I half-heartedly apologize for the SE Asian food barrage that’s about to come your way. At least I’m not cobbling together a look back at 2008—who needs such recent nostalgia?

I’m determined to keep my write ups short and sweet or else I’ll never get them done by the end of the year. Then again, I might not be eating out much in the near future in order to counterbalance the past two week’s financial and caloric overabundance, so I may have nothing NYC-centric to distract me anyway.

I find it easier to talk about travel in photo captions, so click through for commentary. One of these days I'll break down and invest in an SLR camera, for now you'll have to settle for snapshots.

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Dec 14

It Had Better Not Be Bird Flu

I don’t know what’s going on. Yesterday I forced myself to go to work despite being insanely jetlagged and having a horrible sore throat/head cold. I managed to make it through my office holiday party, met friends for drinks at The Bell House afterward and even ate White Castle at 2am no problem. But this morning I woke up feverish and barely able to speak. And after finally getting a bagel (something New Yorky I had been craving in Asia) and a cup of coffee, instead of feeling better I started puking uncontrollably. I’ve spent my entire Saturday in bed. I’m too dizzy to even look at a computer screen for long, which is frustrating because I have a zillion photos to go through. All I can do is sit still, drink water and watch bad TV. Thank goodness TNT has a new Librarian movie premiering tonight.

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Dec 10

Hong Kong Fluey

I’ve been mum the past few days because the nausea that randomly struck in the cab on the way to the airport on Saturday turned into some sort of full blown stomach flu. I’ve barely been able to keep food down in Hong Kong, which is distressing to someone who travels with the primary intention of eating. I’ve been biting my tongue (or rather, tempering my typing fingers) but now I can honestly declare this the worst vacation ever.

(I also just found out that my freelance review gig for nymag.com has been eliminated, which was no surprise after the recent Gael Greene debacle. I do wonder if it’s bad karma for recently speculating on how the economy hadn’t really fucked me up yet. At least I have a day job and it’s not as if penning a few short reviews a month subsidized SE Asian vacations, anyway. That said, I wouldn’t mind another side deal.)

I spent all Monday night throwing up with those severe kind of stomach cramps where you think a creature is trying to escape. I had to lie mummy-like still on the bed, even moving an inch would trigger another vomit attack. I began to have new empathy for the Zimbabwean cholera victims they keep showing on rows of hospital beds on CNN (and Al Jazeera—I’ve really taken a liking to that station and totally don’t get why Americans are so freaked by it. I learned more about the Hajj in the past few days than I have in a lifetime). At least I’d probably perk up in 36 hours or so. Amd all that hurling has left my ribs in pain, which must mean that my abs have been given a work out. Oh, and I probably didn't digest nearly as many calories as I thought I would. Great vacation diet.

So, today is my last day in Hong Kong and I’m determined to have fun. I’ll eat Sichuan food for lunch, something I’ve had to put off all week, even if it kills me. Tonight it’s schmancy Chinese food at Hutong. HK is obsessed with dress codes, as if the average citizen (or perhaps tourist) is brain damaged. Do not show up at Hutong in shorts, sandals or sleeveless. Our pricy Intercontinental buffet admonished, “no slippers or singlets.” I assume slippers are sandals and flip flops but singlet threw me for a loop. I’m guessing tank top?

I will buck up, keep my meals down and try to refrain from putting on a singlet. And I will be back in NYC Thursday determined to make the rest of 2008 a win.

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Dec 8

Made in Hong Kong

Despite loving SE Asian food more than Chinese (actually, the only Chinese food I've eaten so far is room service beef brisket noodles. Last night it was German beerhall food. Really. And insanely decadent buffet at the Intercontinental. There's something perverse about all you can eat foie gras, champagne and lobster. I'm not sure what happened, flu or food poisoning, but I threw up the entire flight from Sinagapore to Hong Kong, then kept puking in the airport and the subway station. Thankfully, I took barf bags from the plane. They're so obsessed with sweeping and cleaning here to that I'd feel much worse about throwing up on the sidewalk than in NYC. Worse, in that someone would inevitably see what you were up to. Workers are disconcertingly eagle-eyed. I'll never get used to the Asian stand one inch from your shoulder while you sign credit card slips approach. But then, people don't tip at most regular restaurants, primarily becuase of the 10% service charge, so I guess you're just supposed to sign and hand over quickly, no mental tip calculation or you just leave cash) I'm glad to be in Hong Kong if only for the more tolerable weather.

Of course, everyone's bundled up in winter coats despite only being 66 degrees, which isn't all that different from New Yorkers who seem to crack out the gloves, scarves and mittens once it gets into the 50s. Yes, I have issues with seasonally inappropriate behavior.

We only have three days left on vacation, which bums me out because I don't feel relaxed or satisfied in the least. It would take at least one more full week to feel right. Ok, off to find dim sum at a restaurant that may or may not have English menus. We'll see. Oh, and roast goose for dinner. Chinese food all the way today.

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Dec 5

Nebulizers and Cheese Doughnuts

Turns out I was overly concerned. James did have severe bronchitis but not pneumonia. This is Singapore, after all, home of insane efficiency and subsidized healthcare. No need to worry. We were in and out of the hospital in less than two hours and the consultation, nebulizer treatment and three perscriptions were all just over $100. Office visits were only $20 Singaporean (about $13 USD) even for tourists and for $35 Singaporean you can go to the executive clinic on the second floor where you get seen faster and by a more senior doctor. This is what we did. So Asian. They seem to love concepts like premier, executive and so on. Paying for prestige and well, better service.

Thumbs up to Singapore's health services. I can't even imagine how much it would suck for a tourist in NYC having to go to the hospital in an emergency. I've never been to an NYC hospital and loathe the thought.

The thing is that the horrible heat and humidity exacerbated James' condition so we're supposed to stay in air conditioned spaces. Easy to do here, as the city is practically a giant mall. Our last meal in Singapore won't likely be hawker food then, but you'd be surprised at how good even food court cuisine can be (OK, there's no accounting for their Kenny Rogers Roasters). I'm thinking Indonesian for dinner. This afternoon I had a cheese (yes, cheese as in white, parmesan-y and melted) doughnut at J.Co and a pepper crab turnover from Polar Puffs. Oh, and kaya toast and eggs from Ya Kun. No, calories don't count on vacation.

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Dec 5

Sick But Not Homesick

I've been trying to be negative, as is my usual way, but this is devolving into the worst vacation ever. My mild sniffles have turned into an ear and throat ache and James' cold and cough that he left NYC with has turned into something where he can't breathe or walk more than ten feet without hyperventilating. We considered going to the emergency room last night and I think we're going to have to go to the hospital today (Friday morning) because it's getting worse. I think it's severe bronchitis, at least I hope so, because respiratory ailments in Singapore and Hong Kong (where we're supposed to be tomorrow) are very serious post-SARS. If it's pneunonia they will send up back to the US. I'm afraid showing up with breathing problems and a cough is going to fuck up the rest of this vacation. At least I don't think either of us has a fever, which would be the kiss of death. And it's all because of Thailand. If we were there like we were meant to be this week, we could just buy amoxicillin over the counter. You can't just go to a clinic in Singapore and ask for antibiotics, they're going to x-ray, lord knows what else and quarantine you or something.

I had planned on trying the DiFara of rojak today but it appears that I'll be in a hospital waiting room. And if you never hear from me again, I'm stuck in a Singaporean isolation ward.

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Margaret’s Café e Nata

A Lorcha

J.Co Donuts & Coffee

Fernando’s

Picture Perfect

It Had Better Not Be Bird Flu

Hong Kong Fluey

Made in Hong Kong

Nebulizers and Cheese Doughnuts

Sick But Not Homesick

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