The Golden Goose

Yung Kee
32-40 Wellington St
Central, Hong Kong
+852 2522 1624

Almost every culture, every cuisine – wherever in the world you go – has roasted meat of some form. There is something decidedly primal about this, and despite it being theoretically such a simple task – applying heat to meat – it has inspired a wide variety of styles and techniques. From Texas to Tokyo, wood fires to charcoal fires, perhaps the only common denominator is the love of food.

I was recently in Hong Kong for work, and made a trip to Yung Kee. An “establishment” restaurant famous for its roast goose, Yung Kee has been around since World War II and has made the transformation from sidewalk “dai pai dong” to multi-level banquet ball. It is one of those places that generates lots of commentary, some good and some bad; and this has increased exponentially ever since the Michelin Guide awarded it one star. But I noticed that even the people who rail against it and how its standards have slipped often still wind up going there anyway – so I knew it was worth a shot.

Yung Kee is housed in a grand building on the outskirts of Lan Kwai Fong, an area littered with bars and dominated by expatriates. Apparently you get seated – depending on how important you are or how regular a customer – on different floors within the building. The 4th floor VIP area is the most desirable, followed by the ground floor, which is in full view of the street. If you are unlucky enough to get banished to the second or third floors, not only should you expect inferior service but also inferior food. In Yung Kee as in many large Chinese restaurants, this customer segmentation happens very often. Because the average Chinese restaurant does hundreds if not thousands of covers each night, only a small portion of the food is actually prepared, or even passes through the hands of the head chef. The likelihood of your food being prepared by the head, or even the senior chefs, corresponds to where you are seated. That is why locals are so picky about where they sit. As a rule of thumb, if you see any expatriates in your section, always ask to be reseated.

By a stroke of luck, we were sent to the 4th floor even though we were by no means important – much less very important. But we were not complaining. We sat in the general area, facing a wall of doors that led to private rooms; and every time those doors were opened for food to be brought in, I could see and hear much merriment, and half-expected a celebrity to walk out. What recession, indeed. The restaurant was not short on customers, hustling and bustling with families, couples and all manner of food enthusiasts. There is a certain look to the true local Hong Konger - people whose families have been in HK for generations – and almost everyone on the 4th floor had that look.

Ordering tea in a Chinese restaurant when it is the first time you are eating with your dining companions is always tricky. I like to drink puer or tieguanyin; but those are not always to everyone’s tastes. Jasmine tea is always a good compromise, but the lowest common denominator is chrysanthemum. Now, I like chrysanthemum tea, but I get mildly annoyed when I have to drink it when there are other more delicious options available. In my mind, chrysanthemum is for children who have not acquired the taste for more refined teas.

But it is the roast goose we are there for – and it does not disappoint. Goose is similar in taste to duck, but typically fattier and gamier. Yung Kee’s version is smothered in a sweet plum sauce and served on a bed of soy beans. The meat is moist, with just enough fibre to make you chew, and the glossy, lacquered skin is this side short of sinful.


In the background of the photo is their suckling pig, which was decent as well. You can always judge Cantonese restaurants by their roast meats, and for some it seems as though there isn’t much else worth eating. The tofu dish that we ordered was mildly disappointing; I think you have to go to mainland China or Taiwan for good tofu. But everything else was well executed, and while the meal was not earth-shattering one could hardly find fault with it. We ordered a dish of steamed egg with conpoy that convinced me once again, if I had needed any convincing, that simplicity is always better.

The service was calm and efficient, which was quite admirable given that it often seems nigh-on impossible to retain your calm working in an environment like the average Chinese restaurant. The captain who attended to us had a perpetual look of placid composure on her face, and attended to our every need smartly and wordlessly. It made me smile to myself just imagining her walking through the doors leading to the kitchen and yelling at the runners for her food, which I have little doubt she did once out of sight.

When all was said and done there were no regrets visiting Yung Kee. It could have been better, but it also could have been a lot worse. Prices were high, but not high enough to call them exorbitant. If anything, this Hong Kong institution is worth visiting just for the roast goose alone. Just remember to decline if you are asked to sit on the second or third floors.

UPDATE: Another picture: