Coming Home

You’d think that the bowl of congee would otherwise be my White Whale. Well, guess again, that’s the Chinese bakery, but that’s another culinary critter altogether. It was the kid from Hong Kong though, and his ‘earth-to’ over a bowl of congee that made me really fall in love with everything Chinese food. Go further back, and it was that same Hong Kong kid and a chalky cup of Hong Kong tea that woke me up to a whole other world of culinary sentience. Ever since, I’ve been obsessed with a cuisine I’ve no doubt mastered in another life, and have been trying to return to in this one.

Happy Valley’s Congee & Bar’s lights were a marvel when I first saw them glowing and abandoned months ago in that poor plaza that burned down in 2010. Since its opening a month or two ago, I’ve wondered why it hasn’t been crammed with homesick out of town kids looking for a little simulacrum of the eating houses they miss in Hong Kong, Richmond Hill, Markham, wherever. It certainly was an egg in my beer, reminding me of all the pilgrimages I’ve taken to the culinary suburbs of Canada’s Rose Capital just for some sludgy tea and deep fried devils. It was almost too good to be true. Too good in fact, that the cynic in me was disqualifying it before even eating there; not getting my hopes up, thinking that what it had was already here, thinking it couldn’t last too long, despite its namesake in Hong Kong. I’ve watched enough police dramas and rom-coms to know better anyway. Still, something in my heart of hearts nagged me to pay homage to that emulsified porridge of fat and white rice that inspired my gastronomic vocation, if not career. So I’m paying my dues to the dish, and the dining hall of clinical Chinese cosmopolitanism that houses it. I’m talking wooden booths, flood lights, television screens, hearths, sleek browns and blacks coupled with plastic cookware and the homeliest Cantonese food I’ve come to know and love in my limited adventures of eating.

Happy Valley’s a remarkable place; of course, its menu’s a pastiche of Chinese soul food, and dim sum, but it also operates as a substitute to the banal bars and the typical fare we expect to eat when we go to them. Happy Valley’s a fantastic change of pace for these parts. If I’m not giddy about the boldly inexpensive alcohol, I certainly am about the even cheaper snacks you can grab if you’re adventurous enough. Have you ever paired a Hong Kong Tea with a pint of beer? You can there. I know, because I did it. I’ll never need any whiskey espresso bar again; why would I when I can get a pint of crisp beer with oaty finish for 2.66 and a one dollar cup of the most on-the-mark Hong Kong tea I’ve ever had in town: malty in aroma, bitter and sweet in flavor, chalky and mouth coating in consistency. I saw my future as a retired expat reading the Hong Kong Economic Times: flip-flops, relaxed flower print shirt, comb-over. All this while taking turns between fanning myself, turning pages, and having a sip.

And that was just the start. Deep fried devils, chicken feet, sticky rice wrapped in lotus leaf, dumplings, barbecued pork steamed buns, condensed milk sandwiched between slices of toast, all on the cheap. It was a dream come true. So much so, I stayed after everyone left. If it really was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up. Our deep fried dough gleamed in the light, flakey, and chewy, the consistency was a treat all its own, better when dipped in my congee, bathing over every kind of ingredient: century eggs, meat, seafood, decked to the nines with white pepper and chili paste. The chicken feet, sweet and swimming in a garlic black bean sauce with a delightful caramel undernote- a fatty textural pleasure, especially when paired with beer. And the sticky rice, as expected, was embalmed by the vegetative earthiness of the leaves wrapped around it, aromatically reminiscent of tea. All the trinkets of meat and nuts made it that much more satisfying.  

The dumplings- named after Chiuchow city- were another chewy Epicureanism. Packaged with stuffings like pork, spring onions, and peanuts, the pungent overpowering aroma was a memory of my serendipitous culinary youth. The barbecued pork steamed buns too. All too familiar, the sweet, smoky savouriness was good to eat when the things were hot or cold. Happy Valley certainly had it all- for me at least: familiarity, food, congee. It was, like that kid from Hong Kong said years ago about a good bowl of congee, like coming home.

HAPPY VALLEY CONGEE & BAR
140 University Avenue W
Waterloo, ON N2L
(226) 647-8818
 
SUN-WED 1130 am-12am
THURS-SAT 1130am-130am
 
ANY PAYMENT

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