Kamdu Tea Restaurant

Literary Review, Summer, 2004 by Chan Kron Chung

Kamdu Tea Restaurant, English name Can Do. Front door facing the side door of the Mirador Building; back door beside Xanadu Night Club (recently under interior renovation, business temporarily suspended). On the left is the Victoria hourly-rated Love Hotel (former Eton English Tutorial Night School); round the right corner is an off-course betting branch of the Jockey Club (former Royal Jockey Club). Turn round the bend and there's Chungking Forest; and HSBC is just a few steps away. The traffic extends in all directions. The area is of exuberant vitality and prosperous wealth, keeping up with the trend. To put it grandiosely, it's been on a roll for several decades. If nothing special happens and everything's smooth sailing, boss Ah Du can surely go back to hometown Dongguan a few years later, buy a Spanish-style villa and rear a spaniel. In front of the house will be a small-scale man-made lake (that is, if the developer doesn't drop its bundle half-way). At the back of the house will be an 18-hole mini golf course. Neighbour on the left will be the mother of a current Hong Kong government senior official from a worker's family. Neighbour on the right will be the mistress of a Zhangmutou nouveau riche of unknown origin. He'll loaf around enjoying life listening to songs by Alan Tam and Hacken Lee playing Big Two gorging on game-meat watching channel Jade killing flies to live a life.

Boss Ah Du recognizes his customers, and is eloquent and flattering: I ordered Chef's Choice Triple Treasure Rice twice; the third time Ah Du saw me he took the initiative and said immediately: Chef's Choice Triple Treasure Rice? The fourth time: Chef's Choice Triple Treasure? The fifth time: Chef's Choice? That's why I have Chef's Choice Rice every meal.

Kamdu's Chef's Choice Triple Treasure Rice: BBQ pork, roast pork, roast duck plus salted egg, with free hot lemon honey drink, selling price 36 dollars.

I call Ah Du Ado. In my mind it's Much Ado, because Ado runs back and forth all day and can't sit still--like he's so busy serving the customers, like he's run off his feet. In fact it's the waiters who are busy working nonstop.

Ado's a bigmouth, who's easily distracted. You talk about east, Ado talks about east. You talk about west, Ado will start talking about west, totally forgetting about east.

Ado loves playing Big Two, and very often he yells three times without reason: Money! Money! I want to be a money-honey!

Recently Ado is into studying metaphysics. He keeps going on about how the amount you eat, the amount you wear, the ups and downs, are all predestined. Rumbling heaven and mumbling earth-there's more blather pouring from his mouth than there is tea in his restaurant.

There are two good things about Kamdu: First, it doesn't rush its customers. Second, the roast meat is absolutely awesome.

For other mixed kinds of dishes, I haven't had a chance to try.

The only blot on the landscape is a tattooed Hairy Brown. Sporting a white waiter's uniform, he exposes his chest, occupying customers' seats with a couldn't-care-less attitude puffing on a cigarette and playing video games--an eyesore.

Generally speaking, Kamdu is more than price-right; it's a bit short on romantic atmosphere, but one can't have everything. I can only fantasize, and start telling myself that the cashier lady at the counter is interested in me.

The cashier lady at the counter belongs to the quiet and damn hard-working type. Head down, she doesn't look at anyone, not even casting an eye over Ado. She looks gloomy and blank all day. Her face is more mediocre than mediocre, so very difficult to remember. Such a hard job for me to build up the romantic atmosphere.

Every time I go to the counter and pay the bill, the lady doesn't even glance at me, but just says, "36 dollars."

On one occasion I changed hot lemon honey drink to iced lemon honey drink, which cost 50 cents more.

The lady didn't look at all, but just said,

"36 dollars ... 50 cents."

Almost saying the wrong amount.

I seized the opportunity and asked, "Miss, may I have your name please?" Very much the Clark Gable.

The lady said, without so much as giving me a single glance, "I'm the cashier!"

"Miss Cash!"

Miss Cash still doesn't bother to look at me, her face gloomy, blank.

From then on I give myself totally to Miss Cash. Every night after dinner when I'm left with nothing to do, I use my killing winks to threaten Miss Cash. When I walk to the counter to pay the bill, I'm eloquent and flattering. Miss Cash this, Miss Cash that. Miss Cash is still gloomy, blank, and doesn't bother to look at me.

I notice that Miss Cash nods only to frequent customer White-haired Mulder, sometimes smiling.

Ado's wife sometimes comes down to Kamdu. Miss Cash will then count the money, or will find an excuse to go to the toilet. In short, she keeps putting on an act. I'm sure Miss Cash definitely has a kind of special relationship with Ado. Ado's wife has a dull yellow face--nothing wrong with her exactly, just that she looks kind of like the back of a bus. When Ado sees his wife, he immediately lowers his head and shuts his mouth. Ado, Ado's wife, and Miss Cash, all three look gloomy and blank. Obviously there's something funny going on with them.