China Club – Hong Kong – It’s Proper Posh

Sir David Tang opened China Club Hong Kong on 30th June 1991 on the top three floors of the well respected Old Bank of China Building in Central Hong Kong. It’s a portal straight back to the opulent, smoke-filled, high-society decadence of 1930s and 1940s Shanghai. Perched on the top three floors of the iconic Old Bank of China Building, it’s a spectacle of dark woods, gilded chandeliers, and walls drowning in priceless art. Every inch screams old-money elegance – think vintage fans spinning lazily above deep mahogany tables, the air thick with nostalgia and power. This is a place where deals are made over dim sum and dark pu erh tea.. But let’s talk about our entrance – or rather, our near ejection. Reservations? Check. Dress code? Apparently not. We strutted in wearing shorts, T-shirts, and polo necks, blissfully unaware that this was tantamount to rocking up to a royal banquet in flip-flops. Gulps. Raised eyebrows. Side-eye so sharp it could slice a Peking duck. The front-of-house host didn’t just disapprove – she looked like she had seen the end of civilisation. After she picked up her eyeballs off the floor, she immediately scurried off to the side to consult with her manager, who gave us a strained nod to entry. This was caveated by having to wear trousers, and suit jackets rummaged out of their closet for naughty boys like us. The oversized ill-fitting clobber clearly hadn’t been cleaned in a while either judging by the caked on staines but we were in. Phew!

Douche bags with crusty jackets that didn’t belong to them. 

So onto the food… this pork belly brought everything you crave from the cut – that delicate duel between fat and protein playing out in perfect balance. The skin gives triple-barrelled crunch that detonated on bite and ricocheted into every corner of my mouth. Beneath it, layers of molten fat and tender flesh joined forces, dripping with indulgence.

The same could be said for their char siu pork – lacquered, sticky, with that perfect sweet-savoury embrace. No one was pretending to be polite here; forks chopsticks clashed, and the plate was stripped bare before you could even blink.

The yam croquettes landed golden and lethal, crisp shells giving way to molten taro laced with pork, shrimp and shiitake – a bite that nails sweet, savoury and umami in perfect sync.

Har gau is a forever go-to, and why the hell shouldn’t it be? That translucent pastry is basically edible window-dressing, showing off the plump little prawns inside – pert, fresh, and an utter joy to demolish.

Shanghai dumplings or XLB (that would be xiao long bao) came with their own little baskets, the trick is to eat them whilst they’ve cooled slightly, but not too cool and to do so without rupturing the delicate silken skins so the delectable soup stays inside – where it should be. What works for me is to gently pick up the dumpling from where it’s been pleated – the most sturdy part and then straight into my greedy mouth which is ready for the soupy burst of luscious flavour.

Siu-mai dumplings were deceptive, on top was pure minced pork crowned with a goji berry and on the base was a whole hidden prawn. Nice work.

Char siu bao is a non-negotiable dim sum must-have, and here they nail it. The buns come pillowy as clouds, tearing open to reveal a filling that’s sweet, sticky, and mighty enough to make you inhale it a;; down.

Char-siu puff pastries brought the richness of the shortest, crumbliest pastry, cradling the same sticky-sweet filling as the bao and honestly, that was no bad thing. They didn’t stand a chance; gone in a heartbeat.