Morty’s Delicatessen
Shop 2-14 Lower Ground Floor, Jardine House 1
Jardine House, 1 Connaught Place
Central, Hong Kong

+852 3665 0900.  You can also order your sandwich shizz online – fuck yeahhhh, welcome to the future HK. BUT  WHO WILL WE FAX NOW?!

HKD148 for the large Reuben sandwich meal.  +10% service charge if you eat it in the restaurant.

The deal:
Hong Kong is the business for so many fucking things, but there is some shit that it is just NO GOOD at.  Such as how to use an umbrella in a crowd, websites, walking in a straight line and bearable humidity levels during the months of July and August.  In this category of HK fails, I’d also add sandwiches.  I don’t know why it’s so fucking hard to get a decent sandwich in HK but I’d heard some good shit about Morty’s, a New York style delicatessen, which has just opened in the lower ground floor of Jardine House.  Sandwich related hope in HK is indeed a bold proposition and seizing upon this tiny sliver of carb related hope, I rounded up two of my best American homies, Ms Two Serves and Ms Siuwaan, so we could get our fill of carbs and stacks of pastrami.


Morty’s is doing some brisk trade and we pulled a time-tested HK move and got there right at 12pm to secure a table.  The menu offers a number of different sandwiches, smoked meat and specialty sandwiches, including all the big bangin’ classics you’d expect such as the Reuben, Classic Pastrami, Club Sandwich and the Grilled Cheese.  I went for the Reuben because if I was gonna judge whether Morty’s had its NY sandwich game on, I didn’t want it to be on some bullshit new age smoked truffle chicken sandwich with grilled shiitake mushrooms, arugula and truffle mayo.

The Morty’s claim is that its pastrami is “cured between 5 & 21 days, rubbed with a top secret spice blend & then slowly smoked with techniques passed on by Morty’s great-grandfather”. The menu also declares proudly in caps that “ALL SANDWICHES INCLUDE HALF PICKLE & FRIES OR HOUSE SALAD”.  I predictably went for fries because fuck me, I ain’t interested in that house salad bullshit.  I did watch half a dozen or so paunchy office workers sigh and choose the limp, uninspiring salad to earn the privilege of being able to report to their over priced personal trainer that they did indeed forego potential spud related happiness for the “right choices”, in a forlorn attempt to stave off their fat fuck destiny that’s written in their desk bound existence in the money mills.

shut up about your diet

When our sandwiches arrive, they look fucking great.  Three layers of bread and a fuck yeah looking slab of pastrami in there, with a pile of fries on the side.  However, once we catch sight of the pickle on the side, our entire table has a flashback to the ALL CAPS menu claim of “HALF PICKLE” and we stare down what looks more like a quarter of a tiny ass pickle.  Ms Siuwaaan is even less impressed, declaring it to be a mere eighth of a pickle.  To add insult to injury, Morty’s not-really-a-half pickle is also entirely lack lustre, a soggy-ass mess with not enough piquancy or brine to make it fucking pop.  For me, I imagined that this is what it feels like when a pickle gives up on life.  One of my lunch comrades went past the existential pickle problems I was imagining and went straight to much saltier territory, declaring that it felt like a flaccid dick in her mouth. Either way you take it, fuck no to limp, impotent pickles.


I pile into my sandwich and the menu had described it as “Slow Smoked Pastrami, Swiss Cheese, Thousand Island Dressing & Sauerkraut on House Rye”.  First off, Morty’s pastrami is fucking great.  I got the medium fatty brisket and the spicing and cure on the pastrami is fucking delicious.  Look, I’m sure there’s better pastrami available in the USA but as far as HK goes, Morty’s pastrami is legit.  However, Ms Siuwaaan and Ms Two Serves were less impressed, as they had ordered fatty brisket which looked remarkably like medium to lean brisket.  But this is the thing, a sandwich has to be the sum of all its parts and as I plowed through my gut-buster of a large Reuben Sandwich more and more flaws became apparent.  I started off pretty fucking excited about my sandwich but with each bite, I became less enamoured with what was going down.  Why was the Swiss cheese not melted enough?  Why was the only indication that there was even Thousand Island Dressing on my sandwich was the fact that I could see some pink sauce in there but couldn’t taste a fucking thing?  How come the sauerkraut was much the same, physically there but from a taste perspective it was bland as fuck, with none of the sour, fermented kick you would expect from sauerkraut?  The house rye bread was adequately fine but if you’d switched it out for country white bread, I’m not sure I could have tasted the difference as it didn’t have any of that dense, chewy and deeper flavour that I’d hope to get from a rye bread.  The fries that came with my sandwich were also completely unremarkable, so much so that I even left fries behind.  And trust me, deep fried potatoes with salt should be an easy fuck yeah slam dunk which generally sees me shovelling them into my face until they’re all gone.  All I can think about is that this is a sandwich that has been created to look the part, but no one has thought about it critically as a whole.

So the three of us sit there, our souls weary and Ms Siuwaan looks at us with heavy eyes and heart, stating simply “I don’t even know why I get excited about anything new in HK anymore, because it always ends in disappointment”.  So we sit there in silence with our cold fries and untouched sad-ass looking salads and allow yet another HK sandwich related tidal wave of ennui soak us to our jaded, worn out bones, as the shards of any sort of HK carb related glory lay shattered around our feet.

Fuck no.  Cause as I texted someone later that day – “Sad pickle.  Sad sandwich.  Sad carbs = sad fucking times”.

Cóm Bánh Mì
28 Tai Wong Street East
Wan Chai, Hong Kong

FYN Hot Tip:  Tai Wong Street is the other street that sits adjacent to The Pawn (ugh) which isn’t Ship Street.  It’s where Bao Wow used to be.  Whoever would have thought that we wouldn’t want to buy tiny overpriced hipster baos forever and ever? NEWS ALSO JUST IN – HK may possibly not need 1,278,431 burger joints either.

+852 2528 9131 (I don’t think it’s a booking kind of place though).

HKD80 for the lunch set (banh mi, drink and a side).

The deal:
Cóm Bánh Mì is relatively new, only opening in December 2015 and I dragged my festively plump ass down there to see if their banh mi game was a fuck yeah or a fuck no.  Just as I’m approaching the restaurant, I notice the signage from across the road and I think “Wait a fucking minute, is that what I think it fucking says??”


Ohhhhhhhhhh, yes it really is 2015 and Cóm Bánh Mì still seem to believe that it’s an appropriate move to claim that the Vietnamese chef behind their banh mi restaurant is called “Chef Phuc Dat Bich”, just like the Internet meme that recently went around.  I mean, do you guy get it??  It’s an alleged Vietnamese name and it sounds like FUCK DAT BITCH.


Moving past the Chef Phuc Dat Bich signage, Cóm Bánh Mì is situated in a narrow space suited for take out orders or quick, casual lunches of no more than four people (probably working better for groups of two).  While I was deciding what the fuck to order for lunch, I read over Cóm Bánh Mì’s menu and in a rare event, my hackles were all up over Cóm Bánh Mì’s menu items such as the Banh Mi section being titled “HORY CLAP” and the Com Ga (rice) section labelled with “HORY SHEET“.  The level of offence I was taking at this menu threw me into some sort of existential crisis as I pondered where is the line when your whole blogging schtick is based on generally being a rude, offensive cunt and then, trapped in my tiny glass case of emotion I’m all bent out of goddamn shape by a drinks section called “SUCKY SUCKY” and a sides menu called “SIDE JOBS – Evelyting forty dorrah” (all the sic in the world ever).  OH SO THAT’S IT, shit crosses FYN’s line of acceptability into fuck no territory when it’s racist bullshit, such as menu descriptions that are trying to find humour in a non-Native English speaker’s inability to speak English perfectly or stereotypes involving South East Asian sex workers.


Cóm Bánh Mì has a number of different modern versions of the banh mi such as shredded chicken & roast duck, Iberico pork rib satay and Iberico ham.  The majority of them are priced reasonably at HKD45 each, except for the Iberico ham one which weighs in at a hefty HKD95.  There’s no option on a straight up grilled pork banh mi which would have been my preference over any of that fancy, new age shit.  Maybe I’m just a grumpy old bastard who’s resistant to change, but I don’t know why every fucker in HK wants to fuck with the classic banh mi.  I order the Lemongrass Lime Soda (HKD25) and get talked into the lunch set for another HKD10, which allows me to get a SIDE JOB of the garlic butter wings.  The ordering set up is efficient and friendly, which is exactly what you need from a quick, casual lunch joint.  The kitchen assembles my crispy pork belly banh mi and I’m filled with hope when an attractive as fuck banh mi is placed in front of me.  A crispy French-style baguette roll is stuffed with thinly sliced cucumber, Vietnamese basil (I’ve read this shit’s allegedly flown in from Danang which seems an excessive and environmentally unfriendly way to add some authenticity), coriander, slices of chả lụa (the white, Vietnamese pork sausage), pickled carrot and daikon, sliced white onions, sriracha mayo, a decent smear of turkey liver pate and of course, the chunks of pork belly.  The first thing I ask for is more delicious as fuck sriracha and fish sauce mayo because I want that good shit to be getting it on hardcore with the liver pate in my banh mi.  Good news, Cóm Bánh Mì fully deliver on my pleas for more sriracha mayo and the mayo bottle is actually roaming free on the floor for those that need to aggressively get their sauce on.

A couple of bites in and I gotta say that I was enjoying my Crispy Pork Belly Banh Mi with a side of casual racism. The ingredients were well-balanced, the coriander and Vietnamese basil giving shit a good fresh as fuck kick.  The French baguette was appropriately crispy, but didn’t appear to have any rice flour in it, so it was a bit lighter than a traditional Vietnamese baguette.  There’s a few small things which I’d change as a matter of personal preference, like I would have preferred a stronger pickle for the daikon and carrots.  But the one thing I think Cóm Bánh Mì could really improve upon is its crispy pork belly. Cóm Bánh Mì are working with a limited set up of an oven and a few deep friers which means that they can only really toast buns and deep fry shit.  This means that in order to avoid sad fuck no flaccid pork belly times, they’ve deep fried their pre-cooked chunks of pork belly.  This unfortunately renders the pork pieces thoroughly crispy but also a little dry. I’m a resilient fuck though so I managed to patch over this fried pork related problem with a fuck load of sriracha mayo but it goes back to my point of if I’d been able to order a grilled pork banh mi, I wouldn’t have bothered with the unnecessarily fried dried out pork pieces.

My SIDE JOB of the garlic butter wings consisted of two tiny fried half-wings.  If I wanted to roll with the ‘forty dorrah, sucky sucky’ theme that Cóm Bánh Mì are going for, I could most definitely bang on here about being a size queen here but fuck that shit to all hell.  Due to Com Banh Mi’s limited kitchen set up, these deep fried wings are greasy, though delicious salty fuckers.  I’ll be real, I’d probably be upset if I’d handed over HKD40 for this side dish but at HKD10 on top of the banh mi and drink, this shit was fine and acceptably padded out the lunch set.

Sucking down the last of my fuck yeah lemongrass, mint and lime soda, I watched Cóm Bánh Mì hold down a relatively busy lunch service which seemed to be moving fairly swiftly.  I wondered how their more conservative looking mostly Asian business attired clientele were dealing with their offensive menu, but no one seemed that bothered so perhaps I’m just an uptight fuck.  Casual racism aside, Cóm Bánh Mì isn’t doing anything transcendental regarding the banh mi, but they provided an efficient and tasty lunch which didn’t send me back to the office crying for wasted time or calories.  Of course, if you’re going to be a #wandercunt asshole and compare this to all the banh mis you’ve eaten in some far flung Vietnam town in some off the beaten track hole in the wall establishment, you’re probably gonna have plenty to bitch about.  But guess what dickheads, we all live in HK and as far as HK banh mis go, you could definitely go worse.

Fuck yeahhh, I can get behind Cóm Bánh Mì as a quick and easy lunch place.  But fuck noooo to the racist menu shit cause fuck, it’s 2015 already and surely the world’s moved on from making fun of how SE Asians could potentially mispronounce words? Yo Cóm Bánh Mì, maybe stop worrying about fucking dat bitch and get on board with fucking off racist SE Asian stereotypes.

Penthouse by Harlan Goldstein (fuck me, did I fall into a slider and now it’s 2004 and I’m  browsing a website because I’m interested in buying an apartment and a spinning effect is still impressive?  WTF is this panoramic spinning website bullshit? STAAAAHP HARLAN STAAAAHP)
30/F, Midtown Plaza (Soundwill Plaza II)
1 Tang Lung Street
Causeway Bay, Hong Kong

+852 2970 0828

HKD258 (+10% service charge) for the lunch set.

The deal:
Harlan Goldstein’s name is thrown around all the time with adjectives like ‘brash’, ‘cocky’, ‘larger than life’ and by his own description the ‘number one celebrity chef of Hong Kong’.  When he’s not jawboning Gordon Ramsay into having a boxing match with him, he’s running four restaurants in the Kong – Gold, Comfort, Sushi To and Penthouse which seem to split people down a fuck yeah / fuck no divide.  Penthouse opened about 6 months ago and it’s the top floor of the new Soundwill Plaza II / Midtown Plaza complex which means you’ve got fuck yeah views of Victoria Harbour displayed through floor-to-ceiling windows.  With a name like “Penthouse”, you can imagine that it’s gonna have the typical Goldstein fancy shizz vibe going for it – massive lighted Penthouse sign, wooden parquetry flooring, marble walls and raised leather banquettes.  It’s Christmas time too so shit was decked out with gold baubles and pine wreaths – I can’t deny it, I fucking love classy festive shit. Despite all the industrial fittings and wooden floors, tables are amply spaced out and with the high ceiling, acoustics get a fuck yeah. Fuck yeah to being able to hear conversation over food!

Penthouse’s lunch set is HKD258 (+10% service charge) but that includes antipasti/appetiser buffet, choice of main, desserts buffet + tea or coffee.  You can add extras (soup, truffles and shiz, steak, fresh juice) for extra bucks if you want, but I fucking eat shit tonnes and I was fine on the standard budget-ass lunch set.  The menu describes the appetiser buffet as a ‘5’ Meter Long “HG” table and I gotta confess that I fucking love a salad / antipasti buffet at lunch because you get to pick the shit you want.  Penthouse’s selection was rad times – no pitiful bowls of corn, capsicum and some really sad looking cucumber.  Fuck yeah boards of salami and prosciutto (melon on the side if you want to do that fruit + prosciutto bullshit, but why average the awesome fuck yeah times of top grade prosciutto down with rockmelon or honeydew?  I DON’T FUCKING UNDERSTAND, but I always see people piling up plates of melon at buffets so I’m missing the goddamn cantaloupe joke somewhere), fresh as fuck salad (menu claims organic), homemade foccacia (but I skip that carb jazz cause I fill up on value proteins at a buffet), fresh pesto, dressings, roughly hewn pieces of parmesan (fuck yeahhhhhhh, but fuck no to only being able to eat one piece due to there being so many other fucking options) and roast vegetables.

For main, inspired by the vases full of Christmas baubles and the wreaths, I ordered the slow cooked turkey with yams for main.  Or perhaps, rather than the festive decorations guiding my decisions, it was my deep fucking love for eating giant birds.  OK, I fucking love eating tiny birds like quails and pigeons too.  OK YOU GOT ME, I PRETTY MUCH LOVE EATING ALL ANIMALS. But true story, when I was at the British Natural Museum of History, I stood at the prehistoric animals section, gazing at a stuffed replica of a Moa and I could only look at dem thighs and ruminate how fucking tasty would a Moa be?? MOA, Y U have to be extinct, so I will never know the beauty of supping on your extinct flesh? I was concerned though that a slab of dry ass boring as fuck turkey breast was about to come my way, because that’s what everyone seems to like.  I always ask people (ie. white folk) why they prefer boring ass breast meat and I always get bullshit answers like “I dunno, I guess it’s easier to eat” and I always want to shout back “Baby food is easy to eat, that doesn’t make it any fucking good though??”, followed by:


But my waiter homie had given me the heads up that they’ve been slow cooking their turkey for six hours and he promised me it was going to be ‘so tender’.  Fuck yeah shout out to the waiter homies at Penthouse who were totally on their shit, water glasses always full and attentive but not in your fucking face. This is truly a Hong Kong Miracle.

When my turkey arrives, it’s presented on a wooden board.  I gotta say because I’m a pedantic crockery homie, I am not down with eating my meal off a chopping / bread board.  I blame Jamie Oliver for starting this trend with his ‘tasting planks’ or whatever the fuck he called them. I’m happy to take my bread off a bread board but fuck me, what’s wrong with a plate for non-bread items? At least Penthouse’s board has a groove around the edge so your turkey juice / crumbs aren’t going to run all over the goddamn place.  But crockery (or lack thereof) aside, the main consists of sliced turkey breast, a turkey thigh roulade, some mashed yam and homemade cranberry sauce.  Dat turkey was a major FUCK YEAH – probably the best festive bird I’ve had in HK for a while and not just because it’s the first one that actually had some dark meat on it.  The thigh is rolled into a roulade which means there are no bones to keep the lazy eaters happy and the breast meat was actually tender and juicy as fuck.  IT’S A FUCKING CHRISTMAS MIRACLE.  The cranberry sauce was made by Penthouse and not out of some lame ass jar, so it avoided the sugar bomb effect and kept that fuck yeah tart cranberry flavour.  The yam (sweet potato) mash was mixed with some pureed apple to keep shit interesting but it didn’t have so much apple that you ended up with some feral fruity sweet yam mash disaster. Dat yam was giving me some serious fuck yeah feels. Fuck yeah to mains which are a slam dunk of fuck yeah components.

I rolled my turkey filled ass straight into the desserts buffet and there weren’t any offerings which looked super fucking rude.  By ‘rude’ I’m referring to when you’re at a dessert buffet and there’s these mini desserts where they’re just too fucking bright, gelatinous or it’s trying to do a “twist on a classic” which means all of a sudden you’re faced with an abomination of an apricot tiramisu or a lavender mint cheesecake. Slight disappointment that something which looked like a mini piece of Christmas Pudding with creme anglaise turned out to be pretty much a brownie (which was still a fuck yeah, but I wanted festive pud pud times after warming up with a turkey main), a fuck yeah mini apple crumble and fuck yeah millefeuille times.  For once, I’ll give big ups to food for ants portioning because after smashing up so much in the preceding rounds, I just wanna be able to have a taste of a few fuck yeah desserts rather than slogging my way through a massive slab of some mediocre dessert.

Finished up with a choice of tea or coffee which is included (vs. getting the HKD50+ extra sting for coffee at the end of the meal) and overall, shit was tight.

Fuck yeahhhh – attentive service, slick venue, lunch set value and for the first time in my life, I didn’t pass out from boredom and hatred after eating turkey breast. WHERE IS MY DARK MEAT GOD NOW?

35-39 Graham Street
Central, Hong Kong


HKD90 per ‘poke’ / tuna ricey salad bowl

The deal:
Going out to lunch is a goddamn institution in HK, but old habits die hard and I still eat ‘al desko’ so I can save my calorific expenditure for night time and weekend nom adventures.  In really fucking boring news, I normally pack my own lunch (Salad! Lean proteins! Healthy fats!) but then sometimes the shit hits the fan, I’m out late the night before or the meat at the supermarket looks so fucking depressing that I can’t bring myself to buy it and then I’m fucking lunchless and about to endeavour on one of the most fucking depressing missions in Central – trying to find something decent for lunch which won’t leave you hungry in an hour (rules out pretty much all quick Chinese food) or bankrupt.

I don’t like to eat too much wheat, particularly if it’s in the form of sub-standard bread cause if you’re going to eat bread, make it fucking count for something.  So this results in me roaming around Central trying to find something which doesn’t resemble a fucking wheat field, but the options pretty much look like this:

But you know, I’m trying to be fucking healthy.  TRAIN MEAN, EAT LEAN like that motivational picture I pinned to my fucking Pinterest the night before, next to six recipes for kale smoothies and ‘no sugar’ grain free biscuits (which used a shit tonne of honey and are entirely made from calorie dense almond flour, but no biggie cause it’s NO PROCESSED SUGAR OR GRAINS).  So maybe I should go to Olivers or Great Food Hall and build my own fucking salad.  Except then you’re waiting a fucking eternity in a sea of people attempting to get their health on by also buying a pretty fucking lack lustre salad.

Artist’s impression of FYN at Great Food Hall / Olivers at lunch time:

Or perhaps I could go to Pret a Manger to get a flat boxed salad, with its flaccid salad greens and utterly depressing proteins.  Yeah that smoked Scottish salmon and potato salad box or that “healthy Skipjack tuna salad” with those sad ass edamame beans, gives me feelings like this:

I guess there’s always Simply Life – that brown cardboard box filled with some sugar snap bean salad, beet salad, the tomato salad and whatever fucking pathetic, shit boring selection is left if you get there any time after 1pm always excites the taste buds.  No really – not changing your shit ever is really working for you, Simply Life.  DON’T EVER CHANGE, that broccoli salad option is so so rad, you should serve it til at least the year 2050.


But seriously, If none of those options work, sometimes I like to go to MX, line up for fucking ages to get some unidentified meat, in some sort of cornstarchy sauce on some rice. LOLZ J/K – YOU TELL ‘EM DOWAGER COUNTESS OF GRANTHAM:

So today, I finally decided to hike my lazy ass up to Graham Street to try Pololi.  Pololi is set up as a take-away joint with a few counter seats and a dog.  I even saw some customers eating their lunch on the steps outside (so fucking bohemian, amirite?).  Pololi makes “poke” (pronounced “po-kay”) which hails from Hawaiian – taking cubes of sashimi grade raw tuna, mixing it with a dressing/sauce and then serving it with the option of rice, salad or 50/50.

There’s about six different raw tuna options, one scallop option and a vegetarian option – a creamy tofu.  If you haven’t been before, they’ll let you taste all the different tuna + tofu options (which was surprisingly fucking good).  No scallop tasting though – can’t give that exxy shit away for free. Pololi homies, the taste test is a nice fucking touch.  The ahi tuna has options like the Hong Kong style (marinated in soy sauce and coriander), the wasabi mayonnaise with fish roe and spicy tuna.  Raw high protein tuna, salad, plain rice – it all feels pretty fucking healthy, doesn’t it?

You get to choose two proteins for your poke and I predictably went for the “wasabi mayo” and “spicy tuna” ahi options.  Fuck yeahhhh they will add more chilli for fuck yeah spicy times.  It looked like a fuck yeah and I wasn’t even crushed by disappointment when I finally ate it.  I gotta say, it’s been a long fucking time since I enjoyed a takeaway ‘al desko’ lunch in HK without feeling like I’d been totally ripped off.  The tuna was fresh as fuck, the dressing used to marinate the tuna was a fuck yeahhhhhh and mixed in with the rice, salad and the avocado I added in myself, shit was filling and most importantly, fucking rad.

I gotta say though, that Pololi can definitely lift their salad game. Their salad was just adequate with a good dressing but end of the day, it was just fucking boring ass lettuce. If you go 50/50, the salad gets packed right next to the warm rice, so there’s a bit of fuck no wilt going on.  I don’t think it would kill Pololi’s profit margins to shred a carrot, slice some tomatoes, maybe thinly shred some cabbage in there…Spotting this potentially sad salad times, I stopped off at the wet markets on the way back and checked out six different stalls to pick an avocado, my body braced for the constant disappointment of HK avocados.  I actually managed to select one which wasn’t a black fucker inside but it was still pretty disappointing in texture.  HK avos, Y U always break my fucking heart but why can’t I fucking quit you?

So at HKD90, Pololi is NOT super cheap, but as it’s only +HKD12 more expensive than those sad ass NOOD FOOD tuna salads and they use sashimi grade tuna, I can definitely live with their price point. Word of warning though, Pololi have only been open one month and while service was fine for me, I was also the one customer they had at the time. There’s only one very well intentioned girl proving tuna tastings and then making pokes, and shit is time intensive.  This is going to be fine for them if they only have one customer every 10 minutes but if shit takes off for them, shit’s gonna get  real.  Godspeed my Pololi homies, hope your service times don’t end up on Struggle Street when shit picks up for you.

Fuck yeahhhhh!

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