Wheels of Addis

There’s something kind of yummy about Kowloon street food. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere or the slightly we-shouldn’t-really-be-here vibe, but it’s good. Real good.

We ended up on some back alley late at night hunting out some serious dining. Diners lined the pavement, seated at greasy tables, puffing away at cigarettes and sucking on beer. Cars lined the street. When a cop came by, the restaurant staff were sure to warn everyone. It seemed friendly enough.

The kitchen was installed between cars on the road. Sweat pouring off the chefs; flames jumping out from under their woks.

We were seated indoors and offered a plastic bowl and a jug of tea with which to rinse our dishes. 

It didn’t take us long to order from the menu. Note the bin liner for a table cloth: this isn’t a sit-and-linger restaurant so much as a getting-down-to-the-business-of-eating establishment.

First up some crispy fried squid along with sweet and sour pork. Fatty, fast and dirty.

Then the real treat: salt and pepper mantis prawns. 

Huge and meaty: these are serious crustaceans. Check out the claws! 

Jean-Pierre spotted a cornflower blue guitar on the side of the road on our way home. But we were too full and our fingers were too greasy to pick it up.

We arrived at our hotel in Beijing at about mid-day. We’re staying at a beautiful, traditional inn called the Lu Song Yuan, which is situated on an old hutong in the city centre. My room has a four-poster bed and views out onto one of many courtyards around which the hotel unfolds. It’s cold outside and Jean-Pierre and I can’t seem to get our layers right - no matter how many jumpers we put on, it never feels like quite enough. 

Today was all about exploring. We set off down our hutong on foot just to start getting the feel of the place. Shops and cafes line the hutong at right angles to ours.

It’s Sunday and everyone seems to be out for a casual stroll and a snack.

We ate lunch at a Tibetan cafe - blanketed by Tibetan chanting music. We feasted on beef momos (dumplings) and a ‘fred’ noodle dish with vegetables. Jean-Pierre had a barley soup that was regrettably bland, but the rest was warming and delicious.

Having then walked through the rest of the afternoon - losing ourselves down alleyways, dipping in and out of shops selling everything from high-end fashion to traditional instruments and kitsch Communist trinkets - we slinked back to the warmth of our hotel for a nap.

Dinner was a stone’s throw away in the complex next door. Red lanterns at the lacquer door welcomed us into the building. Indoors, exposed beams, gold silk wallpaper, tiled floors and latticed windows overlooking an inner courtyard.

We feasted on roast duck with fermented beans and chili, beef stew with water chestnuts and dish after dish of tantalising side orders, amuses-bouches and desserts. I was so engrossed in eating, I forgot to photograph any of the dishes, which is a shame as this was certainly the best food I’ve had on this trip so far. Undoubtedly more to follow, however.