Love, Lust, and Noodles: Lau Sum Kee Noodle Shop

Restaurants, like relationships, come and go in this city. Gleaming lights promising something new, something different, something to surprise our jaded appetites, or just something to fill our void (and memory cards) in the middle of the night. The initial spark, the excitement of the unknown, the spiraling addiction, the desperate desire to believe in the hype....but lust fades and quality speaks for itself. Does anything last forever here? is the most persistent question on my mind as I walk past  another shuttered restaurant that burned too fast and too bright, wondering about the fate of my old haunts the same way I wonder about the boys who never called me back.

"Find a simple guy," my mom told me once, and the same goes for food--at the end of the day, we just crave something simple, dependable and true. In this sense you can't get any simpler than noodle shops in Hong Kong, their low key presence in every street corner at risk of being replaced by the next big restaurant mogul. They are the geek in a romantic comedy, quietly watching you chase the most popular chefs and food trends, comforting you amid your disappointment before you realize that they were the ones who were there for you all along.

Lau Sum Kee in Sham Shui Po is one of these simple guys, albeit one of the more famous ones. But rightly so, as they consistently churn out honest and delicious Hong Kong staples--al dente dry noodles sprinkled with shrimp roe, braised beef brisket and tendon, wonton soup...I basked in its unpretentious and comforting presence, with barely a dent in my wallet. Wrapping up the night with some local desserts around the corner, I was grateful to be reminded that there are still some things that are consistent in this transient city. (The simple and dependable guy part though remains to be seen...)

Lau Sum Kee Noodle
G/F, 48 Kweilin St
Sham Shui Po
2386 3533

Tian Tian Di Dessert House
G/F 120 Fuk Wa St
Sham Shui Po
2398 9499

Conversations at Night (With Whisky)

“I have a very romantic view of the city—sometimes I think we're just billiard balls, moving along our own paths, and once in a while we collide and there’s a spark, there’s a temporary push towards the same direction, but ultimately you hit a wall and separate and go your own way again.”

“...and sometimes you get hit so hard you fall into an abyss?”

“Well the idea is you get to restart the game I guess…”  

An infinite loop of pool playing, that’s really all there is to it. Exhausting, addicting and possibly meaningless—but you have to keep moving, keep colliding, because the alternative is inertia, is solitude, is lying alone at the bottom of the pool table. The alternative of something is nothing and I'd rather have ephemeral warmth than eternal coldness. 

“But don’t you want to believe that people can develop more than a temporary connection?”

“Not in this city, no. There are so many possibilities that you can’t help but want to experience all of them. And too much selfishness—everyone wants to follow their own path in the end.”

“You know, I think you’re imposing this view on relationships because you’re afraid of the alternative—of exposing yourself and making the commitment to understand and love someone. And I get why you prefer this idea of love, I’ve been to the other end before and I know what it’s like to be hurt in a big city, to realize that the city is perfectly capable of moving on without you. It's so much easier to just give up and live for the occasional spark.”

"I don't know...maybe you're right, maybe I've been brainwashed by too many bittersweet romantic movies. But I think it's comforting and beautiful that two people can find refuge in each other, regardless of whether it lasts a few hours or a lifetime. So I wouldn't say that I've given up..."