FYN Annual Wrap Up

Fuck yeah, it’s 2018 and it’s time to set some resolutions for restaurants / bars everywhere. My fuck yeah suggestions for everyone to take onboard this year:

ONE: Importing international chefs to “run” restaurants in Asia before sneaking them out of the country, leaving a poorly executed mess of a restaurant behind. I don’t fucking care how many wet market photoshoots you do where you’re sniffing a bok choy with an old Asian grandma in the background, you can’t keep trying to pass this shit off onto us.

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TWO: Saying “small plates” are “designed for sharing” because let’s be real my restaurant homies, if it’s one fucking bite of overpriced food, no one is sharing shit with anyone. DON’T LIE TO ME, just pony up with the goddamn truth and call them “small plates designed for one”.  Or ants.  But don’t fucking kid yourself that a miniature arancini can be shared between a table of four, you ain’t Jesus with the fishes and loaves and biblical shiz.

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THREE: If you’re gonna cop out and have pre-bottled or barrel aged cocktails, commit to pumping out those drinks quick smart.  Why the fuck are you still bringing me my aperitif cocktails after the food has arrived when I know you don’t have to mix shit?!  While I’m bitching about drinks, can we also cut it out with sexist characterisation of drinks – ie. men love whiskey imbued with power, while women love rose tinged with unequal pay and subservience.  It’s 2018 and we can move past this, I assure you.

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FOUR: FUCK NAW TO THE STRAW. Fucking hell, it’s 2018 and we gotta do something about our fuck no, out of control plastic situation. Let’s all commit as restaurants to stop handing out that shit and as consumers, let’s stop asking for that single use plastic bullshit which we use for a minute and then it lasts forever.  None of us need to have a straw to drink because we all have hands and lips which will work just as well. GTFO of here straws.

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FIVE: Misogynistic and sexist AF awards, advertising and campaigns for restaurants. Take the stand this year homies and if a restaurant pulls that shit where they think that their patrons are so fucking shallow that an inviting pair of tits or a piece of hot ass is the reason why you should go and eat there, complain loudly and ensure you don’t ever fucking eat there. Regardless of any bullshit excuses they might have such as there’s live music playing in the background which makes it a performance or “Oh no, don’t worry BB, we also have male models in shitty, skimpy costumes too”.  YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE HK, THE FANGS ARE OUT:

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SIX: Let’s make a general fuck no grab bag of resolutions addressing Eating Out Fuckery which we’ve all had enough of and has carried on for far too long – four hands anything, Michelin guides, World’s Best 50, pop up tom foolery, bullshit booking systems, HKD150++ tacos, brioche anything, “homies” who still think it’s edgy to sneak out and do lines in restaurant toilets before coming back a gibbering mess to the table (sorry sweetpea, this looks nothing like confidence), restaurants which bang on about sustainability but fly all their goddamn ingredients in and all that other bullshit which takes away from FUCK YEAH NOMS and good times with homies.  NO MEANS NO, WE’VE ALL HAD ENOUGH, go take your place in the Shame Cube and don’t come out until you’ve had a long hard look at yourself.

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With that, HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR HOMIES – hope you’re all ready to tear the balls off this year and fucking kill it. Shit’s been a bit hectic in 2017 with me getting my Majulah Singapura life organised but I’m back and ready to smash it up.  I hope you’re ready to come along for the fuck yeah ride.  Share your 2018 resolutions in the comments below.

xo fucking xo
Sgt Noms

So it’s the end of the year and we all start to feel like guilty fuckers and decide we have to make some resolutions to become a fitter, happier, more productive version of ourselves.  Some of you wishful dickheads will think that drinking cold-pressed juice for a week is going to undo a month of hard liquor and fuck yeah fried foods.  Other assholes are gonna swear off the booze for a month in a quest for No-Fun January or whatever cutesy Sober Named month they’re gonna get behind.  Perhaps you’re planning to be one of those all gear no idea gym enthusiasts or you’re gonna lay down all the cash ever to join Ultimate Optimum Superfit Topcunt Personal Training Studio so some meathead can push you to your absolute sweaty fuckface no dignity limits by making you shove some sled contraption around followed by some fucking disgraceful burpees and a pseudo-erotic stretch session to close.

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However, I understand the innate desire to set some boundaries for 2016 because I fucking love a good new year’s resolution.  Particularly when I set my new year’s shiz at levels which are actually gonna result in me having a FUCK YEAH year.  In 2015, I made it my new year’s resolution to NOT go to a single Castelo Concept’s restaurant and this resulted in 2,000% less disappointment in my overall dining experiences in 2015.  But don’t worry my FYN homies, I have got you and here are some suggested FUCK YEAHHH new year’s resolutions to make sure you’re living your best life in 2016.

ONE: Put the goddamn phone away at the dinner table

So you’re really fucking excited about catching up with some of your homies.  You’ve all made the time to sit down together for a meal, try some rad as fuck restaurant out and you all arrive at the table and then everyone starts to mash wildly at their phone with the intensity of a thousand suns or yell out “STOP!!!” as they photograph their meal to absolute death from a million different angles, as the food grows colder much like your enthusiasm for socialising with human beings ever again.

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So how’s this for an idea in 2016 – wait for all your homies to arrive and then put your phone away.  Have a conversation with actual people that you allegedly care about, seeing as they’re right in front of you.  Look at the menu, I mean, really look at the menu.  Have a discussion about what you want to eat, what looks interesting, what you’ve tried before, what sounds fucking terrible.  Keep your phone out of it.  Order your food and while you wait, talk to the people who are actually at the goddamn table.  If you really get fucking desperate to talk to people not at the table, smuggle your phone to the bathroom and furiously catch up on messages in the privacy of a toilet cubicle so no one ever suspects you’re a rude fuck.  Your food will arrive and instead of photographing the fuck out of it, just use your own goddamn eyes to look at it and eat it hot from the kitchen like the chef intended.  Maybe you’ll smell something fucking phenomenal or it’s absolutely like nothing you expected. Either way, talk about it with the people you’re with rather than posting it straight to Instagram and then watching the love hearts accumulate, in between bites of food and checking your Facebook.  Think about shit like how did the kitchen make something look like that?  Chew your food.  I mean, really chew your food.  Be a pretentious asshole and make bullshit comments about flavour profiles, balance, technique and contrast, like how the acidity of the lemon really cut through the fat.  But don’t check your email.  Don’t check your Tinder.  Don’t check your Whatsapp.  Don’t check your Facebook.  Don’t check your Snapchat.  Don’t check your Twitter.  Don’t check your Instagram.  If you’re with your friends, just enjoy it – who knows how many times you’ll get these chances to be together before they move or slip away? If you’re on a date, check your date out. If you’re with someone you haven’t seen for ages, get them to tell you what they’ve been up to. If you’re with someone that you love, look them straight in the eye and tell them that you fucking love them. Drink more wine.  Make sure everyone else has wine.  Tuck the memories of your favourite dishes into your head like where you were, who you were with and when you ate it.  Years later, you won’t need a crappy photo on your phone to remember how it all went down.

2016.  This is the year to fuck off the perfect shot and just enjoy being in the goddamn moment.

TWO:  Call your bullshit non-drinking San Pellegrino guzzling homies out when they try to pay less on a split bill

All of us have been in the below situation:


Enter waiter carrying the bill for the group to consider

Non-drinking San Pellegrino guzzling homie (NDSPGH):  Ohhhh, so you know I didn’t drink any of the alcohol, so when we split the bill, we should exclude the alcohol and split the rest evenly, yeah?

Wine drinking homie (WDH):  Well, I guess that’s technically true but… (looks down at the bill to the San Pellegrino sparkling water line item which is equivalent to the GDP of a small to medium sized African country)

NDSPGH: (intense silent stare at WDH)

WDH:  (intense silent stare at NDSPGH)

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ENOUGH IS FUCKING ENOUGH.  2016 is the year we can all give a big FUCK NO to all the non-drinking San Pellegrino guzzling homies and their bill related bullshit.  To all the San Pellegrino filled, sanctimonious as fuck, super hydrated jackasses, you can’t fucking claim amnesty on paying for wine if you drink the monetary equivalent in imported, fizzy flavourless water.

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THREE: Ditch your flakey asshole friends

Let’s be real, life’s too fucking short to be dealing with alleged friends who can’t cope with simple concepts like showing up to a dining venue at a set time without fucking shit up.  Sorry to all those flakey fuckers out there who can’t grasp basic shit like scheduling, the only shit I want flakey in 2016 are my goddamn croissants.

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FOUR:  Stop calling food a “guilty pleasure”

The number of times I hear people saying they feel guilty as fuck about the food they eat is fucking disgraceful.  Somewhere along the way we’ve managed to get all twisted about how we feel about food and what it can potentially do to our bodies rather than just enjoying the pure and unbridled joy of getting some FUCK YEAH NOMS.  We’re all so stressed out about eating carbs, gluten, saturated fats, sugars, grains, legumes or processed shit. NO MORE HOMIES, in 2016 let’s all stop with all that food related self loathing bullshit and here’s to only calling your food a ‘guilty pleasure’ if you fucking stole it from someone.  Other than that, eat the good shit in moderation and go for a goddamn run or some exercise related bullshit if you’re really fucking smashing back the eats.

FYN FUN FACT:  No one ever lies on their deathbed and thinks back wistfully upon their life and thinks “Fuck, I wish I’d eaten more lean proteins and salad”. NO ONE.

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FIVE:  Stop taking lame-ass photos of your champagne glass at the airport lounge

If you’re one of those ball bags who has ever taken a photo of your champagne glass at an airport lounge and uploaded it to any sort of social media, it’s time to make 2016 the year where you check yourself before you fucking wreck yourself.  Seriously, there’s no need to be bragging about that bullshit as all you’ve really managed to do is get your ass onto a plane for a couple of long haul flights every year to get that access.  How does the internal thought process even work? Do you settle your ass into the airport lounge and think “Fuck, this sure is the good shit and everyone I know needs to know about this and I should hashtag the fuck out of it as well so even random people I don’t know could potentially know about my free champagne and big pimpin’ life”?  So you set up your airport lounge vignette, placing your glass of complimentary champagne just off to the left, organise your boarding passes to make sure the “FIRST” or “BUSINESS” shit is showing,  place your branded wallet or travel folio just in view and artfully arrange your passport just so before you throw out a big shout out to @cathaypacific for the upgrade and then get your #wandercunt #instadouche #fuckwitlust ON.

Seriously, check these real life, big swinging champagne sculling travel dicks out:

OH HAY DANIEL TAO, how’s the United States of Ratemyself.com going?  Y U no first all the way doe?

It’s a long way home, but thanks to @cathaypacific for the great start.

A photo posted by Daniel T (@dtaroundtheworld) on

Maybe I’m just jealous of Jackie cause the way I roll is more like a jelly roll:

First class lounging and champagne in Hong Kong airport, this is how we roll 😎   A photo posted by jakkameily (@jakkameily) on

Jonne pondered the perfect hashtag, admiring the gentle curve of his champagne flute.  “#champagne” seemed obvious as he watched another plane pull out across the tarmac. Then inspiration hit like the sharp fizz of #moët which he had been born to love “#shampoo #Oneworld #frequenttraveller” flowed naturally, like honey from his worldly fingertips as they darted above his iPhone.  Jonne knew that this is what being #first was all about:

 

Hai Elyse BB gurl, I hope you got that hotty (sic) that you urge for:

Fuck yeahhhhhhhhhhh worldly douchefucks, balee dat everyone else is really fucking impressed.  Yo #wandercunt homies, it truly is a life well travelled…to Dickhead Town.

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Of course, if the above resolutions are too much fucking work, just make the very attainable resolution to eat more fucking carbs because as always, carb life = best life.  Go well in 2016 my FYN homies because together we can all have a FUCK YEAH year xo fucking xo.

Fuck me, it’s already the end of 2015 and it’s time for me to get all reflective and shit on this year.  I gotta level with you, I didn’t smash through as many new restaurants in 2015 because I got a bit burned out on the idea of going to new places and spending all the ca$h and receiving big serves of fuck no disappointment.  I also swore to avoid ALL Korean Fusion restaurants which means that I couldn’t go to 97% of all new HK restaurants in 2015.  So when I’m rounding up my 2015 HK eating highlights, I’m not going to keep my wrap up just for the new  2015 shit but for the most memorable fuck yeahhhhh 2015 experiences.  But fuck, I know you assholes fucking love it when I get my FUCK NO shiz on so let’s kick this end of year wrap up with the second year of FYN’s ‘THIS IS BULLSHIT’ Awards.

FYN’S 2015 ‘THIS IS BULLSHIT’ AWARDS

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Nominee #1:  El Mercado

I know Mr Judgmental was already all up in my grill as soon as I said that I wanted to try El Mercado with their Peruvian-Japanese Nikkei cuisine, declaring resolutely “It’s Peruvian Japanese? It’s 2015 and Nobu already did it in 1987.  Surely we can move on no?”.  El Mercado didn’t have to worry too much about punching out some dated Nobu-esque food though because they were too fucking busy punching out lack lustre dishes with the added bonus of it being tiny ass food for ants serving sizes.  I can only blame myself for ordering a fancy named Aveganado sushi which was essentially just a slice of watermelon on rice, but while other dishes sounded interesting on their menu in reality it was just unappetising looking grey squid omelettes with rubbery pieces of octopus (the Aeropuerto) or a few miniscule bites of roast pork with some mealy edamame mash (Cochinillo Con Tacu Tacu).  However, what I will never forgive El Mercado for is  that they are in the reason for the fact that in 2015, I handed over over HKD308 (+10% service charge) for a tiny ass bowl of broccoli and beef stir fry with rice.  Fuck me with something pointy, I know that HK’s prices are totally fucking crazy but the line most definitely has to be drawn at sticker price madness of USD40+ for a tiny, drab as fuck, too salty portion of stir fried broccoli and beef rice.

FYN FUN FACT:  If you read any “Best New HK Restaurants in 2015” list and it has El Mercado or Le Garcon Saigon on it, WRITE THAT FUCKING LIST OFF AS TOTAL FUCKING BULLSHIT.

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Nominee #2:  Mott 32

While Mott 32 was definitely more of a a so hot right now 2014 bitch, people still continue to rave about how fucking great Mott 32 is in 2015.  I feel that Mott 32 is a perfect example of a restaurant that allows you to assess whether someone can be trusted to provide a restaurant recommendation because if you’re a more chaff than wheat kinda homie where all it takes for you to recommend a place is a fancy as fuck interior and the feeling that you’re somewhere trendy, you will definitely be trotting this one out to anyone who asks you where to get Chinese food in HK. Fuck no my interior blinded chaff filled homies, just remember that you can’t eat a Joyce Wang interior design.  Mott 32’s Peking Duck is meant to be its crowning accomplishment and so many fuck knuckle food bloggers have swallowed the #byinvitation Kool-aid fully and without doubt and are all “OH MY GOD GUYS, THIS IS LIKE THE BEST PEKING DUCK EVER”.  But who really give a fuck about apple wood roasting and custom drying fridges, if your Peking Duck is a greasy poorly rendered mess with weird-ass puffy skin, gallingly served with a heavy handed side of “I don’t give a flying fuck” service.  Just when I thought I’d built a massive FUCK NO bridge and gotten over Mott 32,  I read some bullshit over at Lifestyle Asia which was musing about whether the Michelin Guide in HK is still relevant (FYN spoiler alert: it’s not) and all my emotions regarding this exxy hypebeast bubbled to the surface once the article stated that Mott 32 not getting a Michelin star was, quote, “astounding“. OH FUCK NO LIFESTYLE ASIA, Y U SMOKE THE CRACK? PUT DOWN THE PIPE YO.

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Nominee #3: La Paloma

I eat out a fuck tonne in HK which means when I’m casting my mind back over 2015 for major FUCK NO dishes I have to search a relatively large memory bank of wasted bucks and fuck no disappointment. But sometimes you get served a dish which is so monumentally fucked up that months later you can still remember every food related atrocity that you suffered through. The paella that I ate at La Paloma takes out the title of the saltiest dish I’ve ever had the displeasure of being served in a restaurant in my entire life.  While La Paloma is cute as fuck and definitely feels like a place that you would want to hang out with all your insufferably hip Sai Ying Pun homies, the searing memory of every single cell in my body desperately trying to keep its cellular walls intact under the relentless sodium chloride attack of La Paloma’s salt bomb of a paella has been burned deep into my psyche. You know that shit must have been monumentally heinous when you dedicate at least an hour when you get home to messaging everyone you know who gives even the slightest fuck about food with the message “SO SALTY” over and over again. Check out this live action shot of La Paloma cooking paella:

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Nominee #4: The Cupping Room – Central

Like a Facebook status, this one is complicated. When The Cupping Room Central opened up, I got a hot tip from Gregoire Michaud from Bread Elements that they were supplying them with pastries and that I needed to get involved with the Kouign Amann (pronounced ‘Queen Ah-mahn’).

For those that don’t know what a Kouign Amann is, it’s a Breton cake which translates to CAKE BUTTER and is traditionally a mixture of dough (40%), butter (30%) and sugar (30%), which is the sort of maths that I can get behind. I heard that Bread Elements’ use more like 40% fuck yeah butter and it results in it being kinda like a souped up croissant on steroids – a caramelised sugary crust, flaky butter stuffed pastry which has enough salt to cut through the fat. When I got my first one, all I wanted to do was eat six more of these FUCK YEAH buttery bad boys, just for dem fuck yeah outside layers. Post Kouign Amann I’m soon overcome by caramelised sugar feelings and I spend the next few weeks telling everyone I fucking knew that they needed to get involved with the KWEEEEEN. My Facebook filled up with rapturous fuck yeah feedback from my FYN homies about their deep love for the KWEEN.  I even made KWEEN related tributes for my Facebook:

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However, there’s only so many times you can stumble into The Cupping Room Central and confront an empty glass case and when you ask when there will be more available you get some vague as fuck answer like “in the afternoon”. Like I’ve got nothing better to do all day then just wait outside for the next batch of kweens.  So I gotta love myself Cupping Room Central and regarding the kween – I love you with every beat of my heart but I can’t bear your flakey ass ways anymore.  Of course, there’s no better way for us to call it quits than to publicly declare so via a FB review:

Cupping Room Review

Of course, all of my FY Noms homies (yo, that’s my FB account, in case you ever wanted a random Internet homie to pop up on your FB page to give you a random FUCK YEAH for shit you might be getting involved with) have taken it upon themselves to constantly post pictures of the KWEEN on my FB wall whenever they’re there and I feel the wistful pang of when you gaze upon a girl that you’re still in love with but remains just out of reach. You’re a bunch of fucking assholes. Dedicated FYN assholes who are in the possession of delicious as fuck buttery pastry.

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Nominee #5:  Holy Crab

If you read the review for Holy Crab, you could probably guess where it was going once you read the “Price” section which stated plainly “HKD1,100 A PERSON.  FOR A NO BOOZE MEAL IN A CASUAL RESTAURANT IN LKF”.  It all sounded great in theory, pick your live seafood and Holy Crab would cook that shit up for you on the spot in a low country boil style.  Fuck yeahhhh seafood boil in HK – that sounds like some good shit that I definitely want to get involved with.  I rounded up Ms Two Serves and together we endured a fucking abysmal meal which was a fuck no cavalcade from the wilted, limp ass okra salad, the cloying greasy corn fritters with butter sauce and then the watery, flavourless $eafood boil.  With all of this unfathomable misery setting us back the fucking ridiculous amount of HKD1,100 per person, I could barely sign the receipt as the paper was wet with my tears of unadulterated regret and shattered expectations.

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Nominee #6:  Cóm Bánh Mì

A late contender for FYN’s 2015 “THIS IS BULLSHIT” Awards and while I gave the banh mi at Com Banh Mi a fuck yeah, it’s mind blowing that a HK restaurant in 2015 still thinks that it’s ok to make racist “joke” menus by claiming that your Chef ‘s name is “Phuc Dat Bich”, titling your drinks section “SUCKY SUCKY” and the sides menu goes for racist gold medal glory by laying down “SIDE JOBS – Evelyting forty dorrah” (all the sic in the world ever).  Nothing like trying to find humour and publicity for your restaurant by deriding a non-Native English speaker’s inability to speak English perfectly or stereotypes involving South East Asian sex workers.

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THE WINNER OF FYN’S 2015 ‘THIS IS BULLSHIT’ AWARDS: Holy Crab

I suffered through any number of bullshit meals in 2015 but my meal at Holy Crab was so spectacularly bad that I spent the month afterwards hate-reading all the other HK media and food blogs (most of who obviously got their non-declared invitation on) to see how these fuckers tried to write politely about the horror that is Holy Crab.  Surprisingly, this restaurant still appears to be in business and from time to time early on a Saturday morning, I see the head chef from Holy Crab despondently sucking down cigarettes outside of California Tower in Lan Kwai Fong while a street cleaner hoses down the vomit laden excesses from the night before along with what I must imagine are his hopes and dreams. I want to feel sorry for him until I remember how much those asshole Holy Crab dickwads stung me for that godawful fucking disgraceful meal.

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FYN’S 2015 STAND OUT HK EATS

These are the meals or dishes which I fucking dreamed about afterwards and aren’t necessarily from a new restaurant. I actually think that 2015 was a relatively flat year for solid fuck yeah new restaurants in HK which is why very few appears in the list below.  So in no particular order – here come the fuck yeah 2015 memories:

STAND OUT EAT #1:  MyHouse – Oxtail Ragu / Beef Short Rib

When I read about MyHouse and its claims that it was “a symbiotic relationship with music and hospitality“, I thought it was gonna be a massive wank off.  However, I was most definitely being a judgmental asshole because MyHouse is absolutely and without doubt my FUCK YEAH favourite new restaurant of 2015.  Despite only opening in late October, I’ve already been back four fucking times and have made it my prerogative to tell anyone I know who gives a fuck about food that they need to fucking go.

I also fucking love that while MyHouse is brand new they are just DOIN’ IT while other new restaurants with their wonky ass shit continue to make soft opening excuses for months.  Once you get to MyHouse, the absolute must eats are the “Ox-tail, orange and sage ragu over crusty bread” and the “Porcini rubbed short-rib with aged balsamic”.  While the ox-tail ragu is simple in concept, it’s fucking unbelievable with its superior fuck yeah depth of flavour coming from the gentle orange peel overtones and underlying sage.  This is all served on some toasted Bread Elements foccacia loaf which has been bathed in fuck yeah butter.  FYN pro tips include demanding even more foccacia loaf, slathering it with shit tonnes of butter and then scraping every last bit of that ragu into your rapidly improving life.  Back that shit up with MyHouse’s slow cooked short rib and as a homie I took to MyHouse exclaimed, “Fuck, I think I’m at the Vatican because I just saw GOD”.

MyHouse is doing something unique in Hong Kong and there’s so much passion and thought that’s been poured into this place that it’s super fucking personal and full of fuck yeah sincerity. It’s not often that I can hand out a SEVEN WAY FUCK YEAH slam of interiors, concept, food, music, drinks, service and price point and if you haven’t been already, get yo ass down to MyHouse ASAP to get involved because fuck yeahhhhh, MyHouse is just so fucking right.

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STAND OUT EAT #2: Penthouse by Harlan Goldstein (RIP) – Dessert Platter

Penthouse by Harlan Goldstein was one of my fuck yeah favourites of 2015, I think I racked up over five visits and I recommended it to anyone who was looking for a date night or special occasion location that wasn’t too stuffy.  Until there was a falling out between and Harlan and his business partners and now this restaurant goes by “Penthouse” and it’s without the big, bombastic Harlan G at the helm, Executive Chef Joe in the kitchen and the fuck yeah kitchen team / waiter homies.  It’s all TOO FUCKING SAD and I don’t dare go back in case I tarnish all my fuck yeah Penthouse by Harlan Goldstein memories.  My 2015 fuck yeah highlight is without doubt the Harlan’s Surprise Dessert Platter and anyone that I recommended Penthouse to was made to promise on threat of death that they’d most definitely leave sufficient room to power through this FUCK YEAH dessert option.  This mixed platter of fuck yeah desserts was a magnificient as fuck show stopper with a liquid nitrogen sorbet of varying flavours, which had been snap frozen to give it a meringue like appearance which melted as soon as it came in contact with body heat.  Then to keep shit interesting and interactive, there were puddles and spoonfuls of different sauces and flavours such as powdered dusts, chocolate mousse, banana tiramisu, gelato and white chocolate lava cake.  Fuck.  I’m emotional as fuck just thinking about it now.  It was one of the most memorable desserts I’ve ever had and writing about it right now while knowing that it’s no longer available, is hitting me right in the feels.  It was just the fucking best and Harlan’s Surprise Dessert Platter please know that even though we can’t be together anymore, know that I think of you every step of the way because IiiiIIiiiiiiIiiIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU.

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STAND OUT EAT #3:  Posto Pubblico – Veal Milanese / Veal and Lobster Bolo

I’ll confess that I get swept up in all that new trendy restaurant razzle dazzle bullshit and  before I know it I’m looking down dazed and confused at a dark charcoal slate covered in viola blossoms, a piece of hamachi sprinkled with dehydrated shisito pepper powder and a small shrimp wearing a miniature top hat in a shoe for HKD568 + 10% service charge under the dim light of a stripped down industrial style chandelier made from HK egg waffle cast iron moulds from 1956. The IHM Group is probably one of the most consistent restaurant groups in HK and while I was all up in Stone Nullah Tavern‘s grill in 2014 and Linguini Fini opened their new premises in 2015, for me my best memory of 2015 was rekindling a torrid though honest love affair with Posto. Sometimes old and familiar love is the best sort of love and when Posto added new dishes in September to mark their sixth year anniversary, this old and familiar love starting to become all sorts of next level fuck yeah feelings.  Whenever I tell anyone to go to Posto they are given a super fucking specific set of instructions and here it is, the FYN pedantic as fuck guide to ensuring that you have the optimal FUCK YEAH experience at Posto that you deserve.

  1. Round up at least three to four homies because if you go as a couple you won’t be able to try enough fuck yeahhhh dishes because the Veal Milanese chop on its own is gonna take down two people easy.
  2. Make a booking.  When you do this, pre-order the Veal Milanese chop, the moon of my life, my sun and stars, my everything. Life’s gonna be too fucking sad if you roll up for dinner and that shit’s sold out.
  3. Once you get there, start shit off with one or three Negronis.  You could go probably also go a Manhattan if you’re not into Campari.  Or maybe you should just force yourself to drink your Negroni medicine until you fucking get it.  Fuck yeahhh, dem bitter herbaceous feels.
  4. For around three to four people, you gotta get the meatballs to start because I’m making the claim that Posto has THE BEST fucking meatballs in HK.  For your pasta, don’t mess around with anything else except the Spicy Veal and Lobster Bolo which is my first, my last, my pasta everything.  Get the Veal Milanese that you’ve pre-ordered and while some people claim that the Veal Saltimbocca or Veal Parmigiana is better, don’t be swayed because I firmly believe that the Milanese topped with fresh homemade mozzarella, sweet as fuck organic cherry tomatoes and basil is the Supreme Ruler of all that is Veal.  If you need a side of vegetables, get whatever is seasonal and recommended by the best waiter homies at Posto.
  5. If there’s more than four people get an extra serve of the homemade burrata and maybe the deep fried calamari. Add a pizza fritta which is a pan fried pizza served in an iron skillet so it’s all fuck yeahh crispy bottom times.  My FYN recommendation would be the Bronx Bomber with crumbled sausage, pepperoni and oregano.  YASSSSSS.
  6. Try and keep your shit together while you smash back an essentially flawless fuck yeah meal.  Reflect upon the fact that right at this moment, life is fucking glorious.

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STAND OUT EAT #4:  Zurriola – Scallop with black pudding and green apple / cheese

Chef Daniel Birkner joined Zurriola this year and rebooted its menu with some of the most precise and beautiful food I ate this year in Hong Kong.  In fact, I had my first meal there in May and even though it was not even half-way through 2015, I boldly made the statement on FYN that Zurriola with its precise, modern though no wanky bullshit food was gonna most definitely feature on my 2015 fuck yeah highlights. AND HERE WE ARE.   Zurriola is in TST which means that it’s a harder pitch because most people can’t be fucked to leave the familiar surrounds of HK Island spanning from Kennedy Town to maybe Wan Chai at a stretch.  But that’s such a bullshit excuse not to go because the meals I had at Zurriola this year were fucking phenomenal and it was the unconventional ingredient pairings which still made sense which set it apart from so many other restaurants in HK.  I will never forget the scallop dish I had at Zurriola which was topped with black pudding, against a crisp green apple sliver and a celeriac mash. Such earthiness.  Much contrast. WOW.

I also recommended Zurriola to anyone who was chasing down a serious fuck yeah cheese experience and Chef Birkner does not fuck about with his selection of French raw milk cheeses and most importantly, serves up a very decent sized serve as well.  No tiny-ass slivers of barely there cheese (hey Epure, imma lookin’ at you).  Despite not normally being down with apricot, Zurriola’s thinly sliced homemade toasted apricot fruit bread combined with the cheese course is fucking perfection and I had no other choice but to unhinge my jaw and devour everything in sight, resulting in a state of pure and unadulterated fuck yeah bliss.  I always say that carb life = best life, but let’s be real, cheese life is pretty fucking rad too.

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STAND OUT EAT #5: Tai Chung Wah Restaurant (大中華飯店) – Bandit Chicken (土匪雞)

I have a draft folder of reviews that I start and then due to a combination of apathy, laziness and bingeing on an entire season of television in one to two days, end up in some sort of food review purgatory and never get finished.  I really should just man up and finish writing up Tai Chung Wah Restaurant in Cheung Sha Wan because that shit was so good that I want you guys to fucking know about it.  I ended up going to Tai Chung Wah twice in one month, despite it being so fucking far away, largely motivated by wanting to eat the glorious fuck yeah Bandit Chicken (土匪雞).  Until I get my lazy ass in gear to write shit up properly, it’s critical for you to know that if you go to Tai Chung Wah, you need to pre-order the Bandit Chicken.  The Tai Chung Wah homies are SUPER assholes about ordering more than one chicken though and even if you have a massive group of homies going (ie. 12), they’ll bitch about it to you on the phone, argue with you about needing two chickens, ask who is going to eat the breast meat (my Cantonese speaking homie assured them that we had plenty of white people with us to take care of that but this wasn’t even sufficient grounds to stop the Bandit Chicken argument) and even when you think you’ve finally got them to agree to pre-ordering two chickens, you’ll rock up on the night and they’ll be like ‘NO.  YOU ONLY ORDERED ONE.  CANNOT GET MORE‘ before these assholes cuss you out some more.

The Bandit Chicken allegedly gets its name from when Hunan bandits used to ransack people’s homes for valuables, which back in the day included spices.  These sneaky fuckers would then celebrate a successful spice raid by holing up and making some cumin spiced chicken which if people smelt would take it as an indication that they should keep their shit on lock down because bandits would be close by.  Tai Chung Wah cook their Bandit Chicken in a clay pot oven, speared on a pole which allows the juices to be kept within the chicken, meaning even the breast meat is juicy as all hell and it’s not a dried out, fuck no bland as fuck mess.  No one is gonna help you out at Tai Chung Wah to carve it so be prepared to go hands on or have a homie with you who can deal with carving up a bird with a pretty shitty knife and their plastic gloved hands.  But oh my yassssssssss this fragrant cumin and salt rubbed roast chicken was just so fucking good.  I even broke my no food photo rule, just so we could all revel in the FUCK YEAH glory that is the Bandit Chicken which I affectionately call Stripper Chicken.  SHE’S WORKING AT THE PYRAMID TONIGHT.

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OK homies, that’s enough FYN 2015 FUCK YEAH and FUCK NO memories for today.  Stay tuned for FYN’s Fuck Yeah 2015! Part #2 – Outside the Kong / #Wandercunt edition and also A Fuck Yeah Noms’ Guide to 2016 New Year’s Resolutions which are gonna be dropping in the next week or so.  Or perhaps it’s time to get all nostalgic for some 2014 memories and check out Fuck Yeah, 2014! – Part #1: Hong Kong or FYN’s Fuck Yeah 2014! Part #2 – Outside the Kong and FYN’s ‘Just Cannot’ List.  MEMORIES, NOT A SOUND ON THE PAVEMENT.

Before we get started you can check out FYN’s “Fuck Yeah, 2014! – Part #1 Hong Kong” here.

FYN’S 2014 STAND OUT NON-HK EATS

I had some serious fuck yeah eating adventures in 2014 but I only managed to get my lazy holiday ass into typing about my UK and NYC eats and my draft folder is littered with half finished NYC reviews. It seems like the new fuck no obnoxious foodie asshole way to describe yourself if you have the ability to fly to another country (ie. Have money) and eat food there (ie. Have a mouth) is a FOOD NOMAD. How fucking unbelievably wanky is that?? The thing is, I could totally write a pretentious as fuck FOOD NOMAD paragraph here, talk about my goddamn WANDERLUST as I lost myself in the bazaars of Istanbul, the splendiferous spice markets of India and the good shit I ate in 2014 before I uploaded my profile picture (beach wavey hair – CHECK, armful of beads and bracelets – CHECK, oversized sunglasses – CHECK, straw fedora tipped strategically over one side of my face – CHECK, bikini – FUCK YEAH BOOBS) but fuuuck that.  I’m not sure that managing to buy some cheap as fuck dumplings from an old dude from the Xilin Night Markets in Taiwan is food frontiering for the ages. I’ll be real with you homies, I didn’t always manage to get FYN entries up about my overseas shiz because I tend to just roll around clutching my rotund self on holidays and to be honest, I wasn’t sure how much value you guys were gonna put on how to get to a random houseboat in Kerala but TOUGH SHIT now cause I’ve got my food nomad wank-a-lot pants on so indulge me a little, ok?

STAND OUT NON-HK EATS #1: Oberoi Houseboat times – Kerala, India
Fuck me, the three days I spent on a houseboat in Kerala run by the Oberoi resulted in me eating some of the most fucking unbelievable fuck yeah Indian noms of my life. I often reflect upon Head Chef Diwaker and his fuck yeahhh cooking. We watched the rest of the houseboat guests order boring as fuck healthy breakfasts every morning like bircher muesli with fruit. I piled straight in and cruised straight past the oats in yoghurt section and straight to ordering a masala dosa, hoppers with vegetable sambar and a serve of duck akuri (scrambled duck eggs with Indian spices) and it became apparent as they arrived that that each dish was actually meant to be one person’s entire breakfast and it’s a pretty fucking punchy start to the day to order three individual breakfasts for one person. Chef Diwaker was punching out Indian cuisine from all over India, North to South and when the staff realised that Mr Noms and I were the houseboat guests who were the most into Indian eats, all bets were off and they started doubling our portions before we even asked. Probably the most chilled out I’ve been all year – reading books, mugs of sweet masala chai, stuffing myself with fuck yeah Indian food at regular intervals, watching Keralan fishermen pull out fish which I’d eat later and quite possibly the only three days in my life where not having wifi didn’t send me into total despair.

STAND OUT NON-HK EATS #2: Zucca London – London, UK
I get really fucking nostalgic for the Zucca times – this was one of the best fucking meals I had all year and fuck yeah to the UK Supercoach who gave us a detailed playbook on how to order.  I have taken stewardship of this playbook which means that when I recommend this place to my travelling homies they receive messages repeatedly punctuated with “DON’T FORGET THE PANNA COTTA“.

The meal I had at Zucca was a flawless, fuck yeah perfect experience.  There are so many food highlights that writing a summary of the FYN review seems pointless – from the house made bread with Zucca’s own grassy complex olive oil, the vitello tonnato (pork and tuna) dish,  the rich as fuck tomato and pork cheek sauce on the bucatini all’amatriciana which gave me life with every tubular strand and of course, dat unforgettable panna cotta which is without doubt, the best fucking panna cotta I’ve had of my life.  Service was a top notch fuck yeah with perfectly pitched friendly and knowledgeable service and all the fuck yeahs ever in this entire world for their menu which states boldly at the bottom “Using your mobile phone is unnecessary and anti-social”.  This meal will always get me in the nostalgia stakes as the birth place of turning to Swedish pop when you’re in a restaurant and unsure of what you should order cause always consider – “What Would Roxette Say” (#WWRS):

I dreamed about this magnificent, flaw-free, boss bitch for days after eating there.  I dream about Zucca months later.  Dear Zucca, I plaintively yearn for you – I play this song and think of the day that we will meet again because I fucking miss you, like the deserts miss the rain.

Fucking perfection.

STAND OUT NON-HK EATS #3: Baguettes in Paris
I ate a lot of good food in Paris but my fondest fuck yeah memories are sitting in the apartment we rented with a baguette de tradition, pork terrine, fuck off French cheese (yissssssssss), glorious creamy avocados and washing it all back with strong black coffee or champagne (morning vs night choices). I’m not even sure it qualifies as bread rather magical glutinous sticks of wonder.

FYN’s reaction to eating French bread:

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STAND OUT NON-HK EATS #4: Three Michelin Star Times in NYC (Per Se and Le Bernadin)
I was jet lagged as fuck in the States which saw me waking up at 4am for about 10 days straight.  While I initially thought it was just jet lag, by day 10, I decided that it was pure unadulterated excitement to be in FUCK YEAH, MURICA.  When I got back to the Kong, I reported to my American homies that I finally understand why they love America so much because America is fucking tits to the max.  I love the small town diners that serve fuck yeah blueberry pancakes the size of a manhole cover with come with a big fuck off jar of maple syrup (vs the cruel thimbleful of syrup you get at Oola in the Kong), lobster rolls, NYC pizza, bagels with lox and cream cheese – SO MUCH FUCK YEAH MURICA TIMES.  In NYC, I splurged on two bank breaking, balls to the wall meals at Per Se and Le Bernadin.  Both were fucking incredible.

At Le Bernadin, I got to see Eric Ripert in the dining room before service (achievements for 2014 – I managed not to launch myself at Eric, sobbing as I lost my shit) which was nice to see that some big name chefs still feel it necessary to oversee their restaurants.  Eight courses of a largely seafood based menu all under the dramatic 24-foot triptych of the Pacific Ocean, which didn’t rely on any gimmicks or conch shells with hidden iPods to play ocean noises and just let its seafood tell its own story.

After navigating the booking system 30 days in advance (actually leaving social engagements on a Friday night to get home by 10pm to start calling the booking hotline), we arrived at Per Se and worked our way through a laser focussed, entirely thought out dining experience.  Thomas Keller signature of ‘Oysters & Pearls’ was one of the most fucking spectacular things I’ve eaten in my life.  Individual elements of some dishes were the examples of the most flavourful version of that ingredient that I’ve ever eaten – how often do you remember a singular tomato slice or olive as being that fucking good?  There were precisely sourced ingredients such as 30 million year old Jurassic salt from Montana or unsalted cultured butter from a US producer who has a herd of no more than ten Jersey cows.  We powered through a fuck tonne of food and almost died when it came to the dessert marathon when my metaphorical hard cunt pants exploded meaning I didn’t power through as much of the mignardises as I should have.  I reminisce on all I could not finish in the dessert courses and I am overwhelmed by sadness of unbearable depths.

Fuck yeah to the World’s Top 50 Restaurants which don’t fucking disappoint (yeah Dinner by Heston, imma looking at you).

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STAND OUT NON-HK EATS #5: Caracas Arepas Bar
Our US Supercoach oversaw our US itinerary with an iron fist, making us submit multiple drafts before he signed off.  One of his tips was Caracas Arepas in the East Village and given how many eating options are available in New York it’s a true testament to the deep love I have for these chewy grilled and baked corn buns stuffed with fuck yeah ingredients like chorizo, avocado, chimi-churri, chicken, pork, cheese and black beans.  Our return visit to Caracas Arepas Bar was after a marathon drinking session at The Top of the Standard where we fell victim to the Land of the Free Pour.  I deployed Mr Noms to get arepas to try and mitigate some of the free pour damage while I leaned against a tree outside in a three point drunk guy taking a piss formation (wide legs, arm straight out on the wall, head down – yeah my homme homies know what’s up) while arepas later ‘made it better’.  My fuck no arepa-less existence in the Kong is just too fucking sad – I miss you dearly Mr Areppaaaasssss, but my heart will go on:

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FYN’s 2014 ‘JUST CANNOT’ LIST

Anyone who’s lived in HK for any amount of time knows that when shit works in HK, shit is golden (refer to: MTR, the airport, getting your HK ID card) however as soon as you try and deviate from the system, you end up with some sour faced person, shaking their head, saying ‘CANNOT’ and your shit is done, do not go directly past GO, you’ve hit CANNOT TOWN. This is my fucking list of CANNOT anymore when it comes to food in the Kong:

  1. Getting some asshole celebrity chef in to ‘design’ your menu.  Sure they might fly into HK for a bit during the first few weeks to do some publicity and the open or maybe they won’t come at all (isn’t that right Jamie?).  2014 saw Will, Gordon, Jamie and Tom try this shit on with mixed results.  Is the HK public really fucking impressed by this? JUST CANNOT.
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  2. HKD138++ cocktails (+10% service charge). Since when did paying USD20+ for a cocktail becoming fucking normal?? JUST CANNOT.  Ok, I lie – I can, because I fucking love a cocktail before dinner.  On principle though, JUST CANNOT.
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  3. Stark industrial spaces with nothing soft at all which means you end up eating in a fucking echo chamber. Get some soft chairs, table cloths, curtains, foam cones, small yaks – I don’t fucking know, just get something which absorbs some of dat reverb ok??
  4. Michelin stars in HK. I can’t even be bothered writing some shit about this but really, these fucking places have a star? Bo Innovation has three while Amber has two? Every single Lei Garden has a Michelin star? Dudell’s has two? CIAK IN THE KITCHEN, A PIZZA/PASTA LUNCH PLACE IN LANDMARK HAS ONE?! HO HUNG KEE IN HYSAN PLACE HAS ONE STAR!? Fuck this bullshit to hell you Michelin inspector assholes.
  5. Shitty Brioche. Sure it sounds fancy but it’s more often than not just really fucking shit house, dry and overall bullshit. Especially if it’s on a burger because brioche ain’t structurally sound enough to hold up with a properly sauced burger and any sort of beef patty which will release any sort of juice.  Perhaps I’d be more down with brioche if I was a small French child and it was 4pm, I was drinking cocoa and I needed something to put my Nutella on.

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  6. Mason jars and stripey paper straws. Just stahp guys, it’s not fucking cute anymore. This shit’s infinitely worse if it’s with a bullshit paper straw which fails at its one sole purpose because those fuckers get soggy and fail to actually transport cocktails from the glass to your mouth. Yo paper straws,  YOU HAD ONE JOB:
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  7. Korean restaurants which charge for banchan. Banchan are the small dishes of appetisers that you get at Korean restaurants.  When I ask for suggestions on Korean, some people tell me that Sanche is the bomb but fuck no, cause on a matter of principle I’m never trying a Korean restaurant which charges for banchan cause that shit should be free and it should be replenished on request. Fuck no to charging for banchan!!
  8. Juice cleanses.  It’s fucking genius – convince people that they’re doing their bodies good by having liquids for three days only while you fleece them of HKD2400++ for some fruit + vegetable juice in a cooler bag.  Yeah of course juicing asswipes you lost weight – I guarantee if you drank any sort of juice for three days (Minute Maid OJ or otherwise) and didn’t eat you’d lose some fucking weight.  Which you’re gonna put straight back on once you start eating real food again.  But yeah sure, you can cram Christmas noms and litres of alcohol into your body in December and fix it with 3 days of green shit, no really – go well my juicing homies.
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  9. Lame ass HK avocados.  After years of broken dreams of trying to buy avocados in HK, I’ve suffered the crushing disappointment of buying avocados which seem to arbitrarily and instantly switch from being rock hard bastards to inedible, rotting black motherfuckers (yo, check my The Branded interview).  I just cannot anymore with taking my chances, I save my avo times when I’m not in the Kong.hopesdeleted
    If you catch me overseas, double fisting avocados into my face (fuck yeahhhhhhh – add lemon/lime juice, olive oil, sea salt + cracked black pepper) don’t be fucking surprised.
  10. Soft openings.  HK likes to open restaurants all the fucking time as old restaurants fall foul of greedy fuckin’ landlords, fickle HK dining opinions (why yes, I think a Mexican Korean fusion restaurant in Kennedy Town will be a concept for the ages).  As I outlined in my review of Mrs Pound, new restaurants can open and slap ‘soft open’ which means “Please cut us some goddamn slack when we fuck up and have sold out of almost all our dishes”. Look, I fucking get that restaurants have to test their shit out but I think it’s a bit rich to charge full price if your shit ain’t right.  Or at least have the decency to not get your liquor licence so I can BYOB and save me dollar$.

 

FUCK YEAH, FYN HOMIES – NOT SO RONERY #SOBLESSED MOMENT

I started writing FYN after my homies were making suggestions on where we should eat dinner and I’d get an email to some fucking piece of shit HK website or some obviously gay-for-pay magazine paid advertorial and I’d get all twisted up and be all:

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Then I’d check my stats and see there were all five of you reading my shit and two of those readers may or may not have been attributable to me repeatedly checking my own fucking site out on my iPad and iPhone…

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But fuck, 2014 was my moment – now I’m kind of a big deal with my ‘food writers card’ and I go to restaurants and I’m cutting queues, getting free malbec and general managers offer to gently polish my massive balls with a warm towel to guarantee an illustrious fuck yeah review which guarantees restaurants fame and fortune beyond their wildest imagination.

Actually, that’s a fucking lie – in reality, I’m staying home on Friday nights, blasting the Top Gun soundtrack and looking up animated gifs while basking in the glorious glow of having at least double the number of homies checking my shit out. But seriously, thanks for reading my new and old FYN homies, shit’s been real in 2014. Catch you on the 2015 flip side – keep strong and nommin’ the FUCK ON.

x o fucking x o

Sgt Noms
ps. FYN’s “Fuck Yeah, 2014! – Part #1 Hong Kong” is here.

So it’s the end of the fucking year and every other fucking food blog is doing their top 10 new restaurants or top 20 dishes and imploring their ‘dear readers’ to chime in to help them choose the crème de la crème (FUCK NO) of their eating experiences in 2014. How fucking delightful! It’s essentially going to be like posting your Facebook Year in Review which no1curr about – but fuck yeah, my year in review (yo, add me if you want homies, I’ll randomly show up on your FB to post ‘Fuck Yeahhhhhh’) went a little something like this:

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But fuck that new is best shit that HK seems to be into, cause I don’t think that I went to ten new fuck yeah restaurants that I can reflect upon and remember as stand out 2014 experiences. Instead, imma just gonna get my Captain Nostalgia pants on and self-indulgently recap FYN’s 2014 fuck yeah highlights and fuck no lowlights in the Kong.

FYN’S 2014 ‘THIS IS BULLSHIT’ AWARDS

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I was thinking I should make this award section like every other fucking HK magazine and list approximately THREE HUNDRED restaurants and then every single goddamn restaurant in HK could post some self-congratulatory Facebook post about how fucking honoured they are to be named as an award winner. THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT GUYS, IT’S AN HONOUR AND A PRIVILEGE TO BE RECOGNISED.  I mean check this shit out from the 2014 Awards Season – Crave Bites of Distinction (lolzzzzz official ‘Small Bites’ award aka Food for Ants award section), WOM Top 10 (I started counting but passed out just counting the categories – is there really a need for FOUR Japanese categories which results in 40 awards just for Japanese restaurants in HK??) and The Foodie Forks (50+ awards??).

Listen up, you special individual restaurant snowflakes I dunno if being one of three hundred award winners means your shit is that fucking special – cause if every restaurant asshole is winning some sort of fucking prize, doesn’t your common as fuck victory feel a bit like this?

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So onto FYN’s Top Five ‘This is Bullshit’ award for 2014 – not so sure this is going to be shared as liberally on Facebook with a gushing claim of what an honour this is though:

Nominee #1: Missy Ho’s
I thought that I’d actually found a Castelo Concept’s restaurant that didn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out from mediocrity and inappropriate price points. The first two times I went to Missy Ho’s shit was fun – the food was a fuck yeah, you got to put on cute animal hats to provide solid raw material for likeable Facebook posts, drink rad cocktails and then the bar staff would take their shirts off, do flips and shit on the bar and urge patrons to get on the swing that ran straight through the restaurant. However on a third visit to Missy Ho’s, shit fell apart pretty spectacularly – the service was super shithouse, they were sold out of everything, they ran out of coffee so they couldn’t make espresso martinis and when asked why everything was so fucking terrible the bar staff gave the wan excuse of that it had been a long week. Listen up sweetcheeks, we’ve all had a long week which is why we’re here trying to throw down money for cocktails. I’m not in the business of having to beg for food or drinks, which is why FYN moved Missy Ho’s from a fuck yeah to a fuck no. I also wonder if Missy Ho’s ever got their asses down to Japan Home Centre to get some proper wine glasses or if they’re still using champagne flutes for serving wine…

Nominee #2: Gaucho
There’s something entirely galling about a steak restaurant that trumpets about how fucking great their steak is and then they can’t cook a fucking steak to the temperature/doneness that you ordered. I requested rare and got an unevenly cooked steak which ranged from largely medium, some medium rare and a spot of potentially rare in the middle. Like seriously Gaucho, YOU HAD ONE JOB:

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Service was off and in petty twitter times, their GM tweeted me (account now deleted) to suggest that perhaps waving was more effective than trying to make eye contact with their staff. Fuck that shit cause a) this ain’t my first time trying to get a bill or service in a restaurant before and b) I wave vigorously when I’m drowning, not when I’m dining.  Crave Magazine awarded them a 2014 Bites of Distinction in their ‘Famous Players’ category though so maybe Gaucho’s not all that bad (lolzzzzzzzzzzzzzz).

Nominee #3: The Pawn
The intense and relentless #imworththewait campaign which culminated in taking a historic HK building which had some character and turned it into a sanitized space which felt like eating in a furniture store with overpriced, mediocre food and super shithouse service. That dry ass, tasteless brioche toast was a crime against all that was gluten and holy. I don’t fucking give a shit if you grow your herbs botanicals on your rooftop, I just cannot with HKD500+ mediocre meals with clunky service even if there’s new renovations and some cheffy asshole from Britain who’s never there and tweets everything twice, designed the menu.  #NOTWORTHTHEWAIT #NOTWORTHTHEWAIT.

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Nominee #4: Neighborhood
A fairly average, though very instagrammable meal which was largely forgettable except they served complimentary caneles at the end of the meal.   The cat anus cakes had some really fucking awful aftertaste, as I struggled through multiple bites as I tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.  Once I got home, I worked myself into a lather through furious whatsapping with Ms Waterfalls and Caribous, writing outraged paragraphs for FYN and all in all, spending too much fucking time researching about caneles.  On the flip though, does it mean Fuck Yeah Noms has made it if you write up less than flattering shit up about a restaurant and then said restaurant pays Facebook sponsorship bucks to reference your fuck no reviews to its broader audience?  FUCK YEAHHHHHHHH.

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Nominee #5: Jamie’s Italian
This was FYN’s most popular post of the year which seems pretty fucking ironic given that I DIDN’T EVEN FUCKING EAT THERE. I attempted to eat here not because I thought this was going to be the best fucking meal of my life but sometimes I just want to try shit that people are excited about so I can curmudgeonly take away their enjoyment by flinging a fuck no in their direction.  Instead I diligently queued up in a ludicrously long line and got told that it’d take them an hour to figure out if I’d even make the first sitting (LURN 2 COUNT, JAMIE’S ITALIAN).  I read the horrendous reviews which still awarded two stars out of five for Great recipes, with unfortunately poor execution (WTF is the point of a restaurant if there’s no execution??) while people got their shit all twisted when some food bloggin’ asshole showed their ‘food writer’s card’ to skip the long lines. And while researching this shit, I’ve come across Sassy’s review and between the use of ‘decadent’, getting excited about planks on retro tomato tins and egregious overuse of exclamation marks, I don’t want to go on anymore.

FYN’S reaction to continuing to read Sassy reviews and still getting fucking upset by the effusive, ‘everything’s so deliciousness!’ style:

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THE WINNER OF FYN’S 2014 ‘THIS IS BULLSHIT’ AWARDS: Jamie’s Italian
It is truly a glorious indication of the world we live in where famous chefs can slap their name on restaurants, never visit the restaurant to see how shit is travelling, serve mediocre pedestrian dishes and still bank coin with this thoroughly bullshit model.  As always, Jamie has provided his response to FYN’s views on his restaurant model:

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FYN’S 2014 STAND OUT HK EATS

These are the meals or dishes that I fucking dreamed about afterwards and aren’t necessarily from a new restaurant.  In no particular order – here come the fuck yeah memories:

STAND OUT EAT #1: Ho Lee Fook – Beef Short Rib
While I still cringe every time I have to tell someone I went to Ho Lee Fook (OMG GUYS IT SOUNDS LIKE HOLY FUCK) and despite the dining room being dark as fuck and its menus are not friendly to the colourblind or old (sure, black text on dark green paper) I have nothing but deep fucking love for Jowett Yu’s beef short rib with dat green chilli onion kimchi. I see Jowett in the upstairs kitchen and he sometimes smiles through the glass and I wanna write Jowett a love-letter which declares ‘I FUCKING LOVE YOUR SHORT RIB. IT GIVES ME THE FEELS, BEST SGT NOMS’ and to slam it on his kitchen window, so he knows my true feelings for his fuck yeah short rib. But I also don’t want to be too much of a fucking weirdo so instead I write anonymous expletive laden reviews about his restaurant instead and wait one day for him to acknowledge my short rib fuck yeah feelings. TWEET ME JOWETT, IMMA WAITING FOR YOU.

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IT’S A LOVE STORY, BABY JUST SHORT RIBS.

STAND OUT EAT #2: Carbone – Lamb Chop / New York Cheesecake
You may have guessed that I eat out a lot in the Kong and with a new restaurant opening every 10 minutes, shit’s gotta be exceptional for me to go back multiple times. In a true testament to what a fuck yeah I think this place is, Carbone only opened in July and I’ve been back FIVE FUCKING TIMES. Fuck yeah American Italian food, spot on service from purple tuxedo wearing attentive waiter homies, Motown soul jams and a dining room which rocks out that white tiled NYC vibe but praise be, has red velvet curtains and tall leather banquettes to soak up some of the reverb, which means you can still fucking hear conversation at the table. FYN’s pro-tip is to book a few weeks in advance, go with at least four people so you get to try more dishes (Carbone’s shit is large), skip appetisers, don’t waste time with the veal parmagiana (TEAM LAMB ALL THE WAY), order a side of either the mushrooms or the duck fat potatoes and you must leave room for that large and in charge, fuck yeah of epic proportions New York cheesecake.

Carbone’s lamb chop is the best fucking lamb I’ve eaten all year and days after having it, I put on some Motown tunes, dream about that fuck yeah lamb chop and let the Carbone feels wash over me.

feels

STAND OUT EAT #3: Stone Nullah Tavern
Not a new one for 2014 but seeing as I ended up at SNT approximately five times this year, deserves a fuck yeah stand out mention.  This reliable Modern American restaurant is my favourite of the IHM stable and continues to change up its menu to cater for seasonal produce while punching out the old favourites with its tight as fuck staff. I always have fuck yeah epic nights at SNT which involves heart stopping noms such as foie gras + bacon Monte Cristo French toast sandwiches drenched in maple syrup, fuck yeahhhh buffalo wings and the best fucking mac ‘n’ cheese I’ve had in the Kong (every restaurant makes this claim but SNT’s mac is my fuck yeah favourite). This year, I had my birthday dinner here – I ate all the fucking things, drank numerous fuck yeah Dark and Stormies, slammed back all the pickleback shots and then precariously climbed on top of the bar to kiss the deer head as everyone egged me on with a rhythmic chant of “KISS THE DEER! KISS THE DEER!”.  If years of high school taught me anything, if you’re cool you’ll fucking say YESSSSSSS. In the hazy, shaky post-birthday morning, I pulled my weary ass to the kitchen so I could heat up the left over fried chicken that SNT had packaged up for me, strapped on an ice-pack to my head and then I collapsed on the sofa, eating The Breakfast of Champions – fried SNT chicken and pickles followed by a Pocari Sweat and ibuprofen chaser.  I listlessly hoovered Netflix while I urged my cholesterol laden heart to carry me through to another birthday. Come on old girl, we can’t stop now this is fat country.

iregretnothing

STAND OUT EAT #4: NUR Restaurant
I thought NUR was gonna be pretentious as fuck and teeny tiny food for ants which would result in me dollar cost averaging my meal down at McDonald’s on the way home. However even this cynical old fuck can be surprised and it was actually one of the best fucking meals I had this year in the Kong or otherwise. Clean, beautiful as fuck dishes, that displayed a fuck tonne of technique. NUR’s waiter homies were also all over their shit – enthusiastic and knowledgeable (some might say too knowledgeable because they don’t seem to ever stop talking about that rooftop garden). Chef Nurdin Topham has a noble theory behind his food – championing local sustainable produce which is nutritionally good for you (even if in reality, its proteins were careening its way towards OneWorld Emerald status as they were flown in across the globe). Per FYN’s review though – while NUR sounds like it’ll be pretentious as fuck and food for ants, shit’s so goddamn beautiful you’ll weep all over your artistic as fuck plates.

FYN also has to take a moment to applaud a HK rarity – a fucking decent website. NUR’s fuck yeahhhhh website (fuck yeah, Studio Sans) with its clean design, beautiful as fuck photography (fuck yeah, The Light Particles), functional interface and relevant information brings a tear to my cynical eyes.  Hey all other HK restaurants with your shitty useless websites, if you have paid anyone some sort of hard currency and they have produced for you a website with a singular image, a link to your tumblr or Facebook page, a mobile only version of your site even when viewed on a PC or devoid of any sort of useful information (like a menu) – URE DOING IT WRONG.

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STAND OUT EAT #5: The Butchers Club Deli – Beef T-Bone
Holy fucking fuck, there’s steak and then there’s the magnificent 60 day aged T-Bone I got to smash with Ms This is Bullshit. Sure, the lemon pie was a total epic disaster but the star of the masterpiece of a T-Bone Tuesday is predictably gonna be the T-Bone.  Butchers Club dry age dat Angus T-Bone for 60 days and let the enzymes get their party going on, which leaves behind a cut of beef which has had its beef flavour dialled the fuck up and has a distinctive blue cheese and popcorn/nutty hint to it.  The Butchers Club restaurants appear to be popping up fucking everywhere atm and while The Butchers Club Burgers is fun for a quick fat boy eat, the best fuck yeahhh steak I had this year was this aged, flavourful beefy T-bone bastard by which I judged all other steaks for the rest of the year.  14 day wet aged steaks?  AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR DAT.

aintnobody


OK homies, that’s enough FYN 2014 grandstanding for tonight – you can now check out FYN’s Fuck Yeah 2014! Part #2 – Outside the Kong and FYN’s ‘Just Cannot’ List.

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