Are you still stuck at home… not traveling? To help ease the pain, we present a different kind of travel writing — fictional accounts of great travels with great — and real — food experiences. The author — Zoe Messinger — has done everything from running food trucks in Milan and Amsterdam, to cooking in two award winning restaurants in Los Angeles, and performing stand-up comedy. And, like us, she still believes there’s magic around a dining table, even if you can’t get there right now. Here with the third in a series of her flash fiction vignettes about some of the best off the beaten path restaurants from around the world — each a love affair with food, a journey of finding yourself through what you eat, and perhaps the best part — each paired with a recipe inspired by the meal. While you’re stuck at home, you can now escape to Paris, The Amalfi Coast, Hong Kong, Spain, Sweden, and Los Angeles. And, in case you’re wondering, Zoe is currently stuck in Pennsylvania, eating her way through the fridge. Zoe’s third “report” takes us to Hong Kong.
Parasite
It felt so good to be in Hong Kong, a bit more civilization. I’d been in Saigon with a parasite, ho chi’s revenge. I have a hard time not eating everything on unfamiliar streets, a little pho here, a little pho there, I suffer my decisions. Back East it was fall, leaves were turning. Here, orchid trees grow as my stomach turns.
“We have special plans for tonight. Will you be okay to eat?” he said. “I don’t think I can cancel.” I couldn’t cancel, not after cancelling the big trip to San Sebastian he’d planned for my birthday—starred restaurants, secret spots, a room on the beach. Instead, I had to have emergency surgery in Parma to pry out my wisdom teeth, bedridden in the land of ham.
“Absolutely,” my stomach soared. “I can’t wait.” How was I going to slide anything down my throat without gagging?
“I’ll meet you there” he said, “It’s a surprise.” Normally I loved surprises, normally I wasn’t “with parasite”, normally I spoke a bit of the language.
“Okay, sounds great,” playing the cool, cajj girl I wanted to be. I put on my best jeans, leather jacket, some strappy heel and got in a taxi. He already gave the driver the address. I had no idea where I was going, but every street mesmerized me. I cracked the window, hot-humid, buggy-crazy and sparkling, boba-full, bao-bunned and bursting with energy.
I arrived at an unnamed corner. It was totally dead—no passersby, no billboards, no nothings. He stood there in a blazer by a curtain, indigo-dyed cotton sliced down the middle, one half obscuring his face, his body concealed behind bamboo.
He was waiting for me. This was sexy. This was the way a dinner date should be. This was what you see in the movies. This was surreal. This was a dream. This was a figment of my imagination. This was the drugs talking. This was the parasite—
This was Shikon in Sheung Wan. Not the kind of restaurant you find on Yelp or Eater. A hidden gem, the kind of place you find scouring the neighborhood, picking up on intimate gossip, learning just enough language to catch the name. You talk to some chef, and the chef talks to his sous, who talks to his wife, who talks to the local fish monger, who talks to you. I felt so lucky to live in this version of my story.
They led us to a modern wooden 8-seat octopus, only two other legs occupied. The sushi chef stood on the other side, knives in hand, wearing wasabi, tamago resting. We had a small menu in Japanese detailing the Omakase tasting in front of us, along with bespoke sake glass and a lemongrass towelette to clean our hands between fingering fish. I drifted on a sea of Japanese phrases, carried on the Great Wave, hoping not to break against the shore.
I forgot about Saigon. I forgot about the future, my career, my laundry, my unread text messages. I sunk into the sushi. I sunk into Shikon and satisfaction. I can’t say I remember much, besides that unnamed curtain, opening in the middle of an empty street. Finally parted with my parasite.
Sushi Shikon
7/F, Landmark Mandarin Oriental Hong Kong,
15 Queen’s Road Central, Hong Kong
+852 2643 6800
Open Daily for lunch and dinner seating.
Three Michelin Stars
Slabbed Salmon Sashimi with Cured Ikura
Serves 2 – 4
This is a paper fine pounded salmon sashimi dish with cured ikura (salmon roe) and wasabi mayo. I used a marble slab I found in my pantry. It’s a surprisingly easy dish to make once you have all your sauces prepped, and sure to impress guests.
INGREDIENTS
Salmon Sashimi
6 ounces sushi grade salmon
Salt
Cured Ikura
4 ounces salmon roe
1 tablespoon light soy sauce
½ tablespoon mirin
½ tablespoon sake
¼ cup dashi *see recipe in sauces, you can prep ahead of time or skip this ingredient
RECIPE
Choose the slab or plate you’ll be serving the dish on—it will act as the blueprint for your final shape. Throw it in the freezer.
Mix ikura sauce ingredients together in a small bowl, submerge the ikura. Wrap and cover for at least two hours, or overnight.
Slice 1/2 inch pieces of salmon. Slightly overlap the slices on a piece of saran wrap, on top of your chilled serving plate. Cover with a second piece of saran and seal to make a barrier that encapsulates fish.
Use the flat side of a meat tenderizer and beat the fish with even, medium pressure until the salmon is one unit, fills the plate, and is just translucent. You want the plate to be large enough that the fish can be pounded thin, and large enough to share.
Slide the pounded fish off the plate, remove the top piece of saran and flip back onto the plate. Remove the other piece of saran. This is a restaurant technique I learned from my chef mentor. Once you do it a few times it becomes second nature, and is a great party trick.
Sprinkle with flakey salt, Maldon preferred.
Lightly drizzle finishing glaze over fish. Pipe or spoon on pillows of wasabi mayo—scatter in any way you want. This is your Basquiat moment.
Sauces & Marinades
Dashi
5 cups water
5” piece kombu
½ cup bonito flakes
Boil water with the kombu. When it comes to a boil, add the bonito, remove from the heat, and strain so you have a clean broth. Let cool before portioning out for the ikura cure.
You will have leftover dashi which is great for a Japanese style soup base (soba or miso). Always good to have in the fridge.
Finishing Glaze
1 tablespoon mirin
1 tablespoon sake
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon soy sauce
Mix together in a small bowl.
Wasabi Mayo
¼ cup mayo
1 tablespoon fresh wasabi
1 ½ tablespoon sake
Whisk together in a small bowl. Fill pastry bag with small round tip. You can also spoon on and nix the pastry bag.
