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Bridget Chen investigates our ongoing obsession with all things brunch

Peak SMS traffic hits Hong Kong’s mobile carriers every Sunday at precisely 10.38am. This is the time when, it is estimated, more than 1 million families finalise plans to meet for lunch. For many, the time, location, table, and even the dishes have already been decided upon – the only variable being the new girlfriend to be introduced.

For others, including my family, every week involves enough event-planning to rival the launch of a mainland space mission. Variables encompassing new diets, complex post-meal shopping logistics, and the promise of celebrity sightings, all manage to complicate Sunday to the point where it becomes the most frenetic day of the week, instead of the mellowest. But, as we know, Hongkongers need a certain amount of stress to relax. 

First, the bad news
On the restaurant side, preparing for Sunday is a challenge. No deliveries are made on Sunday. Restaurants that claim they offer daily jet-flown fresh sashimi from Tsukiji on Sundays are stretching the truth. Supplies that were not consumed on Friday and Saturday only have one life left to live – dressed up as enticing Sunday specials. Hence the brunch buffet is a crafty concoction of scallops and mussels tossed with pasta, roast beef spiced back to life, chilli-sauce, and heaps of coriander to distract the customer from the toughness of the meat in the Thai beef salad, and over-ripe fruits that don’t taste quite right.

Behind the scenes, the head chef is at home with a hangover. The staff are exhausted from long hours, with most regretting the career choice that has eviscerated their weekends and social lives. And even the promise of the smallest tips of the week can’t get them excited about working on the Day of Rest.

On the customer side, expectations on a Sunday are different, and loftier. For a typical Chinese family, accommodating grandfather’s palate (and his dentures) is a priority – with the outcome that adventurous items are out, and familiar comfort food, usually of a soft consistency, is in.

Then one has to consider whether the restaurant is child-friendly.

For many, the taste buds are numb from the previous nights’ culinary fiesta. For these weekend warriors, Sunday lunch might as well be cold pizza or a detox-style raw celery and low-fat live yogurt. At the other end of the spectrum are those who decide to go for an all-out buffet blow-out.

It never ceases to amuse me to see customers attacking the buffet with the passion of kids just let out of fat camp, with many of the worst offenders evidently trying to get into the Guinness Book of Records for world-record eating feats. Hotdog Eating Contest World Champion Takeru Kobayashi has nothing on these folk.

Sadly, the expectations of both sides of the buffet table yield a very Hong Kong Catch 22. In an effort to keep down costs, restaurants sacrifice quality by offering second-rate goods; likewise, customers are mostly looking for culinary bargains. I’ve even seen a mother scold her son for being foolish enough to choose jelly from the dessert table instead of more valuable items such as exotic fruits. This leads to chefs becoming disillusioned with diners who base their choices on value rather than taste.

Now, the good news
Some restaurants choose to treat Sunday as the day to shine, to rise to the challenge – rather than simply fill the trough with sloppy seconds for the masses to slurp from. Diners who refuse to lower their expectations are rewarded with warm and familiar greetings and, most importantly, food prepared with respect. Here’s how to tell the good from the bad:

Consistent about consistency  
The dim sum in the bamboo basket says much about a restaurant’s fastidiousness. Making good food is not easy; making great food is hard; making consistently great food is exceptional. A restaurant that can turn out great dim sum seven days a week, whether for sophisticated business lunches or frantic weekenders, is impressive. I tingle when I see dumplings with translucent wrappers and champagne-pink prawns bursting at the seams. For me, there’s nothing better than biting into hot and crispy spring rolls, with filling the perfect balance of meat to fat.

The notorious buffet spread  
On the cold table, look for crisp salad greens, rose-pink parma ham and roast beef, and ruby-red (instead of bruised-red) tuna sashimi. On the hot table, look for whole roasts and freshly made food, instead of stews with chopped up cuts of meats drenched in heavy sauces. There should be a good proportion of made-to-order hot dishes, and mouth-watering scrumptious desserts. Restaurants that not only survive, but thrive, on Sundays, are the ones that we remember, and the ones that build a loyalty that advertising can’t always buy.