Hong Kong food stalls actually mean roadside stalls. They first appeared after the end of World War II. At that time, the British Hong Kong government lacked sufficient social welfare. Many families of civil servants who died during the war and civil servants who could not rely on insignificant pensions to support their families could apply for mobile cooked food licenses without fixed stalls from the Hong Kong government to set up stalls on the streets or alleys to support their families.
This is the reason why the food stalls in Hong Kong City first appeared. Because the food stalls were affordable, many refugees who went to Hong Kong City for refuge had no roof over their heads, so they would sleep on the streets when they were tired and eat at the food stalls when they were hungry.
Later, many workers who worked the night shift would have a simple midnight snack at the food stalls after get off work. As the economy gradually prospered, some people with better economic conditions also slowly began to lead a nightlife. After coming out of bars and nightclubs, they would also have a simple midnight snack at the food stalls.
Gradually, the food stalls began to prosper, and it can be said that they were at their peak and became a part of Hong Kong life.
Fang Lang's impression of food stalls actually mostly came from memories of later generations. Food stalls during this period were still in their infancy. The reason why Reinhardt had a certain understanding of food stalls was because there were several ship maintenance stations in the Admiralty Naval Base, where many ship workers worked.
In order to do business with these workers, some people naturally opened food stalls near the naval base. Gradually, even British naval officers like Reinhardt knew about the existence of this special food stall.
So, when Fang Lang proposed to experience the food stall culture of the port city, Reinhardt agreed without hesitation.
After finally waiting until ten o'clock in the evening and the banquet at the Governor's Mansion ended, Fang Lang, led by Reinhardt, drove impatiently to the area with the most food stalls and the most prosperous at that time, the Stanley Street area in Central.
Sitting in the car, Fang Lang admired the night view of the port city while chatting with Reinhardt beside him.
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"Brother, have you ever eaten at a food stall in Hong Kong? Do you know which one is the best?
Don’t wait to find a place that doesn’t taste good, or you’ll have wasted your trip.”
After hearing what Fang Lang said, Reinhardt, who was sitting next to him, rolled his eyes at Fang Lang and said:
"Isn't it easy to find a shop with good food? Just look at where the longest line of people is, the food there must be good."
Fang Lang glanced at Reinhardt with some surprise.
"Hey! You are really good! You have mastered such a rule. Not bad, not bad. You have a bright future."
"I have been living in Hong Kong for almost a year. How can I not know the situation in Hong Kong? I have to say that the food in China is really addictive. I discovered a magical food called "French Toast" in Hong Kong.
This French toast modified by the people of Hong Kong is definitely my favorite. They fry the toast and then drizzle it with syrup and butter, which is like injecting soul into the toast.
You know what? This is the most delicious food I've had in years, especially with some condensed milk on it.
It's a pity that this kind of food doesn't appear in food stalls, otherwise I would definitely let you taste what is called a delicious food tonight."
Hearing this, Fang Lang glanced at Reinhardt with disdain as he looked at him with a nostalgic expression. This poor British kid from a food desert must have lacked the influence of gourmet food. Even a food like French toast, which was neither Chinese nor Western, could conquer him. It can be seen how low his requirements were.
It’s not that Fang Lang thinks “French toast” is not delicious, but in his opinion, this kind of food can only be regarded as a dessert at most, and is not a full meal at all.
"Look at how ignorant you are. Do you know what kind of Chinese food can not be called delicious?
If we talk seriously about China's food culture, I won't be able to finish talking to you until tomorrow morning. For example, you probably haven't been to the food stall we're going to this time!"
Reinhardt was very dissatisfied with Fang Lang's contempt for him, but he didn't know whether he also knew that Chinese food was indeed not something that their British food could beat, so he did not directly refute, but spoke with some doubt:
"How do you know I haven't eaten at a food stall?"
"Need I say that? Just from the fact that you regard French toast, a food that is neither Chinese nor Western, as a classic, I know that you have definitely not seen much of the world.
Today I will teach you a rule. In China, the real food is often hidden in the streets and alleys. And the food stalls we are going to now are likely to hide the real Chinese food. "
Fang Lang, with a smile on his face, lowered his voice and spoke to Reinhardt in a mysterious manner.
After hearing what Fang Lang said, Reinhardt looked Fang Lang up and down with some doubt.
"Is everything you said true?"
"Whether it's true or not, we'll know if we try it tonight. However, sometimes this kind of thing depends on luck. After all, chefs have different skills. The same dish will taste completely different in the hands of different chefs."
As Fang Lang spoke, he even began to feel a little excited.
Time passed unnoticed as the two chatted, and the motorcade slowly stopped not far from Stanley Street in Central. Although many people in Hong Kong owned private cars during this period, they were not so numerous that there were no parking spaces.
However, in order to keep a low profile, Fang Lang had already asked everyone to park their cars a little further away. As the motorcade slowly stopped, a group of plainclothes guards got out of the cars in twos and threes and dispersed to the surrounding areas.
After the guards were in place, Qi Qingshan walked up and knocked on Fang Lang's car door. Fang Lang, Qi Qingshan and Reinhardt then strolled leisurely towards the food stalls on Stanley Street.
Stanley Street is a normal street during the day, but at this moment it is filled with densely packed dining tables.
As they slowly approached Stanley Street, more and more people began to walk around. Foldable round tables filled the entire street, and the open-air stoves were smoky and flaming, with flames bursting into the sky from time to time as the chefs stir-fried the food.
The waiters with towels hanging around their necks were running around, busy as ever. Groups of diners were enjoying the food while chatting and laughing, fully releasing the hard work of the day.
There were several tables of young people dressed like company employees who looked well-off. They were drinking and playing finger-guessing games happily. Their faces were flushed from drinking. One young man who looked a little thin was lying unconscious beside the table. It was obvious that he had raised the white flag and called off the battle.
Such a lively scene surprised Reinhardt, who was experiencing the bustle of a food stall for the first time.
In the eyes of these ordinary people who were struggling at the bottom of society and trying to make a living, the tense situation just mentioned by the bigwigs in the Governor's Office seemed to be non-existent, forming a sharp contrast. For a moment, Reinhardt didn't know what to say.
Fang Lang was not surprised by this at all. On the contrary, he felt unprecedented familiarity with this occasion. He couldn't help but stand where he was and take a deep breath.
The air was filled with the aroma of various delicacies, which instantly filled his nostrils, making him unable to help but close his eyes gently and savor them carefully.
The moment he closed his eyes, he seemed to be back in the night market he frequented in his previous life. From the noisy food stalls, he could hear the proprietress's enthusiastic voice soliciting customers. Sexy beer girls were carrying glasses of beer around to sell them, and the drinkers, who had had three rounds of drinks, were unscrupulously expressing their passion.
All of this was so intoxicating that for a moment Fang Lang almost didn't want to open his eyes again.
"Fang, how about we go to that restaurant? That's where the most customers are."
Just as Fang Lang was immersed in his pleasure, Reinhardt, who was standing beside him, glanced at the food stalls one by one and found that there was a large crowd of people gathered in front of a small food stall not far away, and some of them seemed to be queuing up and waiting for a seat.
This situation perfectly fits the rule of having the most customers, and he couldn't help but ask Fang Lang for his opinion.
Fang Lang, whose memories were brought back by Ryan Hart, sighed softly, and looked in the direction of his finger, and saw a stall about 30 meters away. As expected, there were more people than in front of several nearby stalls.
The stall is very small and seems to be run by a couple. The chef is a middle-aged man who looks a little lame, while the one who greets the customers is a middle-aged woman who still looks charming and a little bit aggressive.
The woman was slightly plump, with long black hair tied up high with a white silk scarf with black dots. The hair swayed from side to side as she walked, giving her a rather charming look.
"No problem, let's try it here!"
After saying that, he took the lead and walked towards the food stall.
After walking in, I saw a wooden sign with black characters on a white background standing in front of the stove where the lame man was, with the words "Ming Ji" written from top to bottom.
Fang Lang smiled slightly, and did not go to talk to the proprietress. Instead, he walked up to the lame man and said:
"Master, is there room for three people?"
The lame man who was busy looking up at Fang Lang and the other two, saw that Fang Lang and the others were well-dressed and followed by a foreigner, a flash of suspicion flashed in his eyes, but he quickly reacted and said with some surprise:
"Yes, yes, boss, please wait a moment, I'll ask my wife to arrange it for you right away!"
After that, he turned to the middle-aged woman who was tidying up the tables and chairs not far away and said:
"Shufen, there are three guests here, please help arrange them!"
The woman turned around and looked towards the stove. Only then did Fang Lang notice that the woman was unexpectedly beautiful, with a traditional Chinese oval face and smooth fair skin. The first word that came to Fang Lang's mind when he saw her was "a face that will bring good luck to her husband."
Perhaps it was because she noticed that there was a foreigner among the group, and that the three were obviously dressed differently from the workers and staff around them, the proprietress was stunned for a moment before she reacted.
"Okay! Three bosses, please come this way! I'll clean up here soon, you can sit over here!"
Fang Lang heard this and glanced at the several groups of customers still queuing up nearby. He said rather embarrassedly:
"Boss, I see there are still a few customers waiting in line. Why don't we let them eat first and we sit aside and wait."
Fang Lang regretted talking to the lame man. He knew there were people queuing in front of him, but he still ran up to ask the boss if there was any space available.
In fact, the reason why Fang Lang went up to talk to him was mainly because he didn't see the menu on site, and he wanted to ask the boss what special dishes this food stall had and see how the boss's cooking skills were.
Unexpectedly, the boss did not ask him to wait, but directly asked the proprietress to arrange a seat for him. This made Fang Lang's plan to stand by the stove and chat with the boss go to waste.
But he didn't want to break the rules, so he couldn't help but decline his boss's kindness.
The customers who were waiting in line seemed to feel a lot more relieved when they saw Fang Lang looking at them and then asking the boss to let them sit first.
I don't know if it was because of the way they were dressed that they were surprised that people like them would come to a food stall, or because they saw that there was a foreigner among the three, but everyone's eyes were filled with curiosity and inquiry, and there was no resentment or dissatisfaction.
One of them, a middle-aged man who looked to be around fifty years old, took the initiative to speak:
"It's okay, we're not in a hurry, you guys eat first!"
The more polite these people were to Fang Lang, the more embarrassed Fang Lang felt. They were all compatriots, and he really didn't want to cut in line, nor did he feel that he was superior to others.
"How can this be so embarrassing! We came later, so we still have to follow the first come first served principle. I actually just wanted to ask the boss what special dishes the stall has."
The customers who were waiting in line were impressed by the young man in a suit and tie who was humble and polite, and they all said that they didn't mind letting them eat first.
The uncle who spoke earlier said directly:
"Sir, the most we can have is a bowl of vegetarian fried noodles. Xiao Chen can't make much money from us. But respectable people like you will definitely spend more than us, and their profits will be higher if they consume here, so you should order first!"
Fang Lang burst out laughing when he heard this. This old man was really honest and did not hide anything when speaking. It was obvious that these customers and the shop owner couple were old acquaintances and they had a pretty good relationship.
This was a bit unexpected for Giving Way.
Turning to look at the couple who owned the shop, I saw that the two of them seemed to have been hit on by the uncle's words, and the expressions on their faces seemed a little embarrassed.
Seeing this, Fang Lang could only shrug his shoulders and said with a smile:
"Well then! We won't be polite."
Reinhardt didn't understand what they were talking about, so he could only stand aside and wait quietly until Fang Lang put his arm around his shoulders and walked towards the small table that the proprietress had just cleared.
He followed with a nonchalant look on his face. As a British man, he considered Fang Lang a friend, but not all Chinese people, so he didn't care about the feelings of other Chinese people here at all. It seemed that everything was taken for granted.
Qi Qingshan didn't say a word the whole time. His eyes occasionally swept across the faces of the customers near the food stall, and he watched the surrounding environment vigilantly, fearing that something unexpected would happen.
When the three of them walked to the dining table that the proprietress had cleaned up, she had already wiped the table clean with a rag.
After they came and sat down, he nodded politely to the three of them and said:
"Three distinguished guests, what would you like to eat?"
Fang Lang turned his head and met the boss lady's full headlights. He swallowed hard and quickly looked away.
"I didn't find the menu just now, so I don't know what special dishes you have. How about this! You pick the best dishes and arrange a table for them. If you are satisfied with the food, we will reward you with tips."
When the lady boss heard about the tip reward, her eyes lit up immediately. She stood up and clapped her hands happily and said confidently:
"No problem. Then I will let our boss show his best skills and make sure the guests are satisfied with the meal."
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