When I arrived in Hong Kong just shy of quarter of a century ago, the city literally reeked of street food.
From the now outlawed stinky tofu – the powerful stench of which I swear, if condensed and bottled, could be sold as a chemical weapon – to more fishball stalls than you could shake a spiky stick at, the Fragrant Harbour was, from a culinary point of view, just that.
A walk down pretty much any street in those days was nothing short of a full-frontal attack on my...
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