Everything i ate in HONG KONG in 72 hours 🇭🇰🥟🥢 | fast-paced vlog, no bs

When in Hong Kong, you've got to eat roasted goose. So we came to Son Yuen Restaurant, a Michelin star holder from 2011 all the way to 2021. The geese were glistening, fat slowly rendered, each piece with an almost golden sheen. Then the auntie manning the store was an absolute machine, total girl boss. First up was thick slices of char siu. It was absolutely delicious. It was like concentrated pork because all of the slices had this intensely satisfying chew and the juices were practically oozing out of the meat fibers and cold tomato. Then we had pigeon. Honestly, I thought it would be a lot fattier, but you know, it's surprisingly lean and springy, so kind of like a get your hands dirty kind of dish. Yeah, but it was okay. Now the star of the show, the roasted goose. And on the side, a little cai xin for balance. I usually avoid fatty cuts, but the lean bits were so steeped in marinade that the flavor held up just fine even after I trimmed the fat. Turns out their suckling pig is really what they're known for, but they need to be pre-ordered because when we got there, all of them were packed into takeaway boxes like this. I spotted this purple tea shop. This time, I need a gui nin gao. For those of you who are not familiar with gui nin gao, let me introduce you. This is our main character, the gui nin gao. In its name, it has the Chinese character for turtle. Does it actually mean that it's made from turtle? Well, it used to be. Gui nin gao comes from Guangxi in China, where the climate is crazy humid and hot. People there have been eating this jelly forever to deal with the heat toxins from the weather. The recipe got passed down through generations, teacher to student, and it became a tradition. While the original version involves crushed up turtle shells, which is super hardcore, the one that I just bought is mostly just plants. So how did they get this bunch of herbal plants to form this black jiggly mirror? Well, they boil it and boil it some more, they add herbs that sound like they belong on Snape's own personal shopping list, things like smilax glabra and more, and then they will boil it again and then add some corn starch and potato starch or something to make it set and jiggly. The texture is firm enough to hold its shape completely. Some of them melt in your mouth, but some of them have a slight chew. With all that roasted goose sitting in my stomach, I was definitely feeling the body heat. So I needed some of this to cool me down and hopefully get rid of that pimple for me. But I might need another roll. My pimple was still there, as stubborn as ever. Sandor noodles. It's this tiny, tucked away spot that's basically a warm hug for anyone who's had a long day. They have a pretty concise menu, specializing in mostly wontons and of course noodles. My dad and I ordered these three dishes, which really look so good. Okay, first, look at these. These are their signature vegetable and meat wontons, which are massive and the skin is like silk. But the filling has got this incredible snap. Because the chefs don't just mix the meat, they slam it repeatedly against the bowl until the proteins, myosin, break down to create this tight and springy net that traps all of the juice from the meat. Then we have slow braised beef tendon. It's been simmered for so long that the savory juice is literally part of its DNA now. It's soft, gummy, and honestly kind of like savory jelly. Their house chili goes so well with this, but warning, it's so spicy. Tendon is such a delicacy in Chinese cooking because it takes hours of patience to turn something that tough into something this delicate. And of course we If you're wondering what it is, it's the omeisom, or the third stomach of the cow. It's super springy, almost like a meaty cognac jelly. The thing about Santua is that personal space doesn't really exist. You're always sharing a table and squeezing it with strangers. But in a big and lonely city, there's something kind of poetic about that. For 20 minutes, you're not just a stranger, you're two people sharing the same table and having a meal. There's this weird magic to the city once the sun goes down. It's the kind of place where you feel completely lost and perfectly at home all at once. Good morning! It's a glorious day and my dad has declared that he is starving after he decided to go to the gym on an empty stomach. So here we are in the neighborhood dim sum place because no trip to Hong Kong is complete without dim sum. First up, we have the classic char siu bao. Look at that fluff. It's like a cloud, but inside it's this intense sweet and savory barbecue pork. This is what I call comfort food. Then we have shrimp dumplings, ha gow. A good one is all about the skin. It should be translucent, thin, but with enough bounce to it. And look at how cute these xiao long baos are. Step one to eating xiao long bao, be gentle. Poke a little hole to let the soup drain out onto your spoon because trust me, it's lava hot. Step two, a little dip in vinegar of ginger slices. Step three, eat it elegantly. You can't go to dim sum and not get beef hor fun. It's all about the wok hei, literally the breath of the wok. It's that smoky charred aroma that you only get when noodles are tossed over an incredibly high flame. Also, can we talk about these giant beef meatballs? Of course, some cai xin with oyster sauce. Next, the char siu chong fan. These are silky noodle stuffed with more of that barbecue pork. It's slippery, salty, sweet, and basically melts in your mouth the moment it hits your tongue. Honestly, I'm just eating these vegetables for my health at this point. Balance, right? It's all about balance. There's something about a restaurant that spills out onto the sidewalk. It's loud, it's a party, and you know the food is going to be elite. Okay, the spread. My family doesn't come to play. Redemption time. Now I'm ready for the xiao long bao. No more soup disasters today. Look at that skin. The skin is holding all of that golden rich broth. It's like a little silk purse. And the taste, it's incredible. Quick recap. Step one, tiny poke. Step two, vinegar and ginger bath. And step three, absolute bliss. Next up, bao chao yao hua. It's stir-fried celery in this thick, glossy sauce that's just a chef's kiss. And then, chong chao huang shan, stir-fried yellow eel. Eel is a huge delicacy here because of its texture. It's incredibly tender, but also has this distinct, earthy richness. Our next dish is hui guo yang rou, twice-cooked lamb. Twice-cooked because it's simmered first when it gets tender, and then stir-fried to get those crispy, caramelized edges. My favorite vegetable of all time, gan bian si ji dou. It's all about the wok hei, and it's dangerously addictive. Ending on a sweet note, we have dou xia bing, red bean pancake. The outside is fried to a perfect, shattered glass crisp, and the inside is filled with smooth red bean paste. Red bean paste is a staple in Chinese desserts for a reason, because it's simple, comforting, and not too sweet. Another good meal, and another core memory made in Hong Kong. For dinner, we came to Xiong Wen Cook Food Center. There's this huge eatery on the second floor called Dong Ji, and it literally sells a lot of things. Look at the menu. But I believe this place will taste delicious. Sometimes you'll see hot water and a basin on the table. It's for you to give your plates and your chopsticks a little bit of a rinse before you eat with them. First dish, bitter gourd stir-fried egg. This dish is gan tian, the specific kind of sweetness that only comes after the bitterness. The richness of the egg rounds it off perfectly. Next, Chinese sausage fried rice. The gold standard for the rice is all about ke liu fen ming, every grain of rice being separate and distinct. Overnight rice is used to get the perfect texture. Round two of beef ho fan. This time, the beef was the main show, because it was incredibly velvety and very smoky. Can you believe this is a small portion of the lamb stew? But it's super good stuff because the bone-in cuts were soaked in rich, deep, soulful gravy that tastes just like the hub. And the fat is rounded down until it's buttery. The meat has a distinct gamey richness as well. I'm telling you, the egg and bitter gourd is the hit of the night. If you haven't tried it, this is your sign. For our last meal in Hong Kong, we're doing something a little bit different. One of the things about this city is that you can find the most authentic international food in the most low-key spots. We're at Gold Star, a hidden gem run by a chef with over 20 years of experience straight from Korea. These pancakes were super unique. It was an egg-heavy batter wrapped with a whole perilla leaf stuffed with minced meat. That qing xiang, fresh, horrible aroma from the perilla was everything. It cut through the richness of the meat, dip it in the sauce, and it's a perfect bite of savory, eggy, and refreshing all at once. Then the spicy cold noodles with bulgogi. These noodles were super chewy, like need a pair of scissors kind of bounce. They're icy, spicy, and paired with the sweet and tender bulgogi beef, it's the ultimate hot and burnt contrast. This is a soup that I thought was super genius. It's black pepper ginseng chicken soup. It's incredibly unique. The chicken is literally falling off the bone, and it's stuffed with glutinous rice that has soaked up every drop of that rich and earthy broth. The black sesame adds this deep and nutty toasted flavor, and you get the medicinal hit of the ginseng that makes you feel like you're actually healing your soul. And finally, spicy shredded beef and scallion soup. It's fiery, hearty, and packed with these long, lean threads of shredded beef that have absorbed all of the soup. It's the kind of soup that makes you feel alive. What a great meal to end off Hong Kong. I'll definitely miss this place. Basic Hong Kong is a city that never rests. It's always moving, always shouting, and always hungry. After a few days of getting lost in its streets, I've realized its real magic isn't in the big landmarks. It's in the unexpected. It's in the feeling of stumbling upon a tiny, legendary noodle shop when I wasn't even looking. It's like the unexpected happiness of finding coins in my pocket when I thought I was broke. In a forest of glass and steel, I would think I feel small. But between the steam of a dumpling basket and the crowded tables of a cooked food center, I actually feel right at home. It's chaotic, it's loud, and it's perfectly imperfect. Thanks for the memories, Hong Kong. I'm leaving a little bit of my heart here and probably a lot of my appetite. See you on the next one.