My Dim Sum Disaster That Started It All
Last Tuesday I woke up starving and thought “today’s the day I’ll crack authentic dim sum”. Headed to this fancy hotel place near my apartment with fancy English menus. Felt like I was eating rubber shrimp dumplings while rich tourists took Instagram pics. Total waste of 80 bucks.
That afternoon I cornered Mrs. Chen who runs our building laundry spot. Told her my sad story. She laughed hard and said “You foreigner! Dim sum isn’t brunch – it’s dawn food!” Then she scrawled this address in Cantonese characters on my palm with permanent marker. Hurt like hell washing hands for three days.
The Real Deal Local Hunt
Set three alarms for 5:15am next morning. Stumbled out half-dead wearing yesterday’s t-shirt. Found the spot Mrs. Chen mentioned – this grimy basement joint under a fish market. Smelled like shrimp corpses and bleach. Perfect sign.
Pushed through plastic strips hanging in the doorway. Saw 80-year-old grandmas fighting over tables. Grabbed the last wobbly stool just before some guy tried to snatch it. Waitress threw a pencil at me and yelled “WRITE YOUR OWN!” when I tried to order. Menu was a grease-stained paper slip with Chinese characters swimming like tadpoles.
Survival Tips I Figured Out
Here’s what saved my bacon:
- Brought my own tea thermos after seeing locals refill from huge flasks – saved 12 bucks
- Copied the family next table marking their order sheet. Drew weird triangles next to hairy-looking characters
- Stopped the cart lady by standing in her path like human roadblock. Pointed frantically at every steam basket until she yelled “FINE! HAR GOW! SIT DOWN!”
- Ate chicken feet by pretending they were fancy wings. Spat bones discreetly into napkin
- Paid cash at the register up front like everyone else. Manager punched numbers into 1980s calculator
Why This Beats Tourist Crap
Spent only 35 bucks for two people eating until our buttons popped. Waitress who threw pencil actually smiled when I tried saying “M goi” (thanks). Got free tofu pudding “for surviving” she said. Best damn meal in months – shrimp dumplings bursting hot juice when bitten, pork buns sweet like clouds, even liked those mystery mushroom things once I stopped worrying.
Went back next day at 6am sharp. Same stool had my butt imprint. Waitress nodded and dumped har gow on my table without asking. Felt like I passed some secret test.