tim's experiment

To Sham Tseng on Saturday to play in the first wedding to be held in the Dragon Garden. If you missed the story this was a reproduction traditional Chinese garden constructed long ago by a local eccentric. It was proposed that this should be replaced by another of those huge blocks of flats of which Castle Peak Road now has so many.  There was a row and eventually the government gratified local tree-huggers by securing the garden’s preservation. It has now been done up a bit and it is, I must say, a very pretty garden. It is a bit awkward to get to but if you can afford to bus your guests in from distant parts of the territory it is an intersting choice for a wedding. Among the interesting features is the absence of anywhere to go if it rains. But Saturday was fine.

Anyway having got so far we decided to sample Sham Tseng’s signature dish, which as serious foodies will know is roast goose. This has become considerably more hygienic since I first tried it many years ago. In those days all the goose restaurants were built on stilts on the edge of a watercourse. Unwanted fluids of all kinds simply went through the floor into the creek. Happily mains drainage has now arrived and the restaurants look reasonably modern and well cared-for. On Saturday nights they are very busy and you need a reservation. Parking is subject to one of those curious New Territories arrangements by which someone gives you a ticket and parks your car for you in what looks suspiciously like a free public spot. But as long as you get your card chopped by the restaurant there is no charge. The goose is still good and they do other dishes as well.
After the bird we strolled along the main road in search of a dessert specialist.

Castle Peak Road presents an interesting spectacle at this point. The road itself is quite wide – two lanes each way with a central reservation. On the north side it is still very traditional Hong Kong village with a strong entrepreneurial tinge. The houses are three-storeys, adorned with numerous dubiously legal additions and the ground floors have all been devoted to commerce – mainly to the sort of restaurant where you sit at a folding table on a plastic stool and careful diners use their first pot of tea to wash the crockery. On the other side of the road (I think this was where the San Mig brewery used to be) there is an equally typical spectacle – one of those estates which features a large podium containing carpark and clubhouse, surmounted by several towers of flats. On the south side of the street there is no sign of life at all. I suppose the residents, who must be numerous and rich, come and go in their cars. On the north side there is, for once, a nice wide pavement, and large groups stroll along chatting and comparing the merits of the various food offerings. The effect is rather like those Spanish towns where everyone sleeps through the afternoon and spends half the night strolling the streets, stopping occasionally for snacks or drinks. It is noisy, sociable and pleasant. It is the past. Across the road it is quiet, not particularly pleasant and rigorously socially segregated. People who cannot afford those flat prices are not welcome. This is, I fear, the future. And this is what we call progress?