My 8:30 lecture on Tuesday is always the hardest part in my week, so I made a small deal with myself at the start of the semester: if I get up on time, I can have breakfast at the cha chaan teng next to the MTR station. That morning I ordered my usual set, a pineapple bun with a thick slice of butter and a cup of hot milk tea.
Despite its name, there is no pineapple in the bun at all; the name comes from the cracked, golden crust on top. It was still warm when it arrived, and the crust flaked onto the plate the moment I picked it up. The butter has already started melting into the soft bread underneath, so every bite was sweet and slightly salty at the same time. The milk tea was strong and a little bitter, but smooth enough that I finished half the cup before I even noticed. Around me, office workers were reading the news on their phones while the waiters shouted orders to the kitchen in quick Cantonese. Nobody was talking to anyone, yet the noise was strangly comforting. For twenty minutes, I was not a tired student rushing to class, just another person starting their day in Hong Kong.
No. 02 October 6th · Tuesday
Hot Pot After the First Midterm
Spicy Sichuan broth and pork bone soup, split pot
After finishing my first midterm of the semester, me and my friends agreed that we deserved a proper celebration. Six of us squeezed around a small table at a hot pot restaurant in Sha Tin and ordered a split pot: spicy Sichuan broth on one side and pork bone soup on the other.
Once the broth started bubbling, the table quickly turned into a mess of chopsticks, ladles and plates of raw beef. The thin beef slices only needed a few seconds in the spicy side before they curled up, and when I dipped them into my sauce of sesame oil, garlic and coriander, the numbing heat of the Sichuan pepercorns spread across my whole tongue. To cool down, I fished out some fish tofu and winter melon from the pork bone soup, which was mild and soaked with the sweetness of the broth. One of my friends kept losing his beef balls in the pot, and every time he gave up, someone else would find them by accident, which made us laughed much harder than it should have. By the end of the night, the soup had turned dark and thick, and none of us had mentioned the exam even once.
Hot pot is not a meal you can eat in a rush; it forces everyone to wait, cook and share together. Maybe that is exactly why it felt so right after such a stressful week.
No. 03 October 7th · Wednesday
Tomato and Egg, the Way Mum Makes It
Stir-fried tomato and egg over plain white rice
I woke up on Wednesday with a sore throat and no energy to go out, so I decided to cook in the hall pantry for the first time in weeks. The only dish I can make with confidence is stir-fried tomato and egg, which my mum cooked almost every weeks when I was in secondary school. I called her while I was cutting the tomatoes, half to ask how much sugar to add and half because I just wanted to hear her voice.
The eggs turned out a little overcooked, and the tomatoes were not as sweet as the ones at home, but the sour and sweet sauce still soaked perfectly into the plain white rice. Each spoonful was warm and soft, gentle enough on my throat so I finished the whole bowl. It was simple and slightly clumsy, yet it tasted more like home than anything I had eaten in a restaurant this month.
Looking back
Reflective Summary
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Before keeping this journal, most of my meals were simply something to get through. I would eat while scrolling through my phone or reading lecture slides, and by the evening I could barely remember what I have for lunch. Writing about my meals for a week forced me to slow down and pay attention, not only to the taste of the food, but also to the moments around it.
Looking back at my entries, I noticed that each meal played a different role in my life. The breakfast at the cha chaan teng was a small routine that gave me something to look forward to on a difficult morning; it was less about the pineapple bun itself and more about having twenty quiet minutes to myself. The hot pot dinner, on the other hand, showed me how food bring people together. Because hot pot takes time, nobody could just eat and leave, and the waiting turned into jokes and conversations that helped us forget about our exams. Finally, cooking tomato and egg when I was sick reminded me that food is closely tied to memory. Even a dish that did not turn out well made me feel cared for, because it carried the taste of my mums cooking.
However, this journal also made me aware of some bad habits. During busy weeks, I often skip breakfast or replace dinner with a cup of instant noodles at midnight, and I rarely cook unless I have no other choice. I realized that I eat for comfort and convenience far more then for nutrition. In the future, I hope to cook for myself more often, not only because it is healthier and cheaper, but because the process of cooking itself made me feel calmer and more independent.
At the end, I learned that food is not just something to fill my stomach. It marks the rhythm of my days, connects me with the people around me, and keeps me close to home even when I am not there.