206 Hollywood Road
Sheung Wan, Hong Kong

+852 2549 0020 (no bookings though – yeahhhhh hip as fuck)

Allow HKD400-500 per person, excluding booze.

The deal:
I fucking get it, every food blogger worth their salt (ho ho ho) was writing / gushing effusively about Chachawan in August 2013.  But as Prince may or may not have sung once, two zero one four party over, oops, out of time, I finally got my shit together and got my lazy ass down to The Cha.  Don’t judge me too fucking much – I attempted to go to Chachawan on a very ill fated night last year when a four person dinner that was meant to meet at 6:30pm ended up being an EIGHT person affair when everyone met too late and we had to abandon all hope of going to a no booking restaurant at 8:00pm on a Friday night and ended up at ONE OF THE WORST “MEALS” I HAD IN 2013.  I STILL CARRY THOSE MENTAL SCARS AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU WILD GRASS.  Yeah, I’ll be real, that night is still emotional SHIT for me.

Fuck, one paragraph in already and I haven’t even gotten to the food, what the fuck is this turning into, Noms & Peace?  What can I say that hasn’t already been said about The Cha except it’s the good shit.  The grilled chicken thigh (Gai Yung) was the star of the masterpiece.  I’m always saying this but why are white folk so into chicken breast?  I don’t fucking get it – I’m going to put it down to WHITE NONSENSE.  We ate heaps of other good shit – Larp Moo (minced pork, lettuce), Pla Phao Glua (salt crusted seabass), some fancy shizz omelette and fried rice (sounds boring but was a fuck yeah).  Rolled myself straight into dessert and overestimated my nom capacity, smashing up some sticky rice + mango (one of my favourite Thai desserts of all time) and some Kanom Dtom (coconut dumplings with ice-cream).  Almost burst later, because I forgot the magical properties of glutinous rice (despite the childhood guidance I received from my mum) because you’re cruising along, shoving as much sticky rice into your body as you possibly can, everything’s all good and then BOOOOM the rice finds some liquid in your stomach and LIGHTS OUT, you’re about to give birth to a Sticky Rice Baby.  I can’t blame Chachawan for that though, rather my inability to stop myself.

I gotta be real though – I just CANNOT deal anymore with those stripey fucking paper straws that everyone is into these days (add a mason jar and I will want to punch you in your goddamn face).  Sure, they are the hip thing atm but they get soggy pretty much instantly, collapse and then fail at pretty much what is the sole and most fundamental purpose of a straw (ie. allow you to sip liquid through them).  FYN is taking a definitive stand – FUCK NO TO HIP, STRIPEY PAPER STRAWS.


It ain’t cheap for Thai food but fuck yeahhhh!  HOWEVER, FUCK NO TO PAPER STRAWS


Fuck yeah or fuck no?

%d bloggers like this: