One of the easiest things about Cantonese food is that it generally tastes as good as it looks. Restaurants tend to put their best stuff in the window. A glance over someone's shoulder at the colours and consistency of what they're eating will give a good idea of whether it's worthwhile. Besides, it's a custom to interrogate the waitress at length, somehow forcing them to admit their best secret dishes.
Today - not necessary. I'm here for one thing. I've seen it in the window already and it looks as succulent as can be. Hainan Chicken is my chinese comfort food. Fresh, clean, boiled chicken plunged in ice water, served with soy and muddled ginger.
Some prefer plump chicken, others think smaller, younger birds bring succulence. In a land of bones I'm with meat.
Whilst the dish has it's namesake origins, Hainanese Chicken Rice is a Singaporean animal. I still dream of that street market near the container port with the 20 minute queue.
This one place in the back streets of Haizhu, however, that I don't know the name of and will never find again, served it virtually as good as I remember. I thanked the chef - he looked on without batting an eyelid, not wanting of my commendation.