Fuck Yeah, 2014! – Part #2: Outside the Kong and FYN’s ‘Just Cannot’ List

Fuck Yeah, 2014! – Part #2: Outside the Kong and FYN’s ‘Just Cannot’ List

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


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:


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).


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:



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.
  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.
  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.


  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:
  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.
  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$.



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:


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…


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.

  • waterfallsandcaribous
    Posted at 03:39h, 04 January Reply

    *hair flick* *hair flick* *hair flick* *hair flick* *hair flick*
    Hurry up and come down here so you can *hair flick* about NZ, too. I’m scoping out Feilding for you.

  • FUCK YEAH, 2015! – PART #1: HONG KONG
    Posted at 07:22h, 29 December Reply

    […] 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 […]

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