A drunken face-off with a bunch of hissing, slowly asphyxiating shrimp wasn’t where I expected to find myself on a recent visit to Macau, China, but that was indeed my fate.
If it weren’t for the sedative sea breeze, swishing palm fronds, sinking island sun, and sweetly smiling old man opposite me at the table, I could have mistaken the scene for a nightmare, or at least a bad trip. But, no—I was relatively at peace chatting over those unlucky shellfish at Nga Tim Café with owner Tong Wong, 75.
We were on Coloane Island, the Macanese equivalent of Hawaii’s Kauai, where the noisy high-rise construction of the Macau Peninsula is traded for the sound of crashing waves, and gin cocktails at the Venetian are swapped for coconut water sipped from the shell. Just 40 miles by boat from Hong Kong, the former Portuguese colony of Macau is often called the “Las Vegas of Asia,” though the controversial nickname doesn’t seem to take Coloane into consideration. The island is just a 15-minute drive from the center of all the action, but it boasts a breathtaking coastal drive along the cliffs, access to the South China Sea at Hac Sa (meaning “black sand”) Beach, and hidden temples scattered throughout its winding, walkable neighborhoods. There’s not a casino to be seen.
At the café, I discovered that Wong is not only a great cook but a captivating storyteller, singer, and all-around ham. Several times throughout our conversation, he broke out in song—one of which he had written himself—revealing a talent that I was told he normally only shares at the end of a bottle of Jack Daniels. With his slight build, bald head, and dimpled cheeks, Wong’s charms are many and his joy infectious, particularly as he does what he loves most: running the restaurant.
In 46 years of business, Tong has been able to exercise his love for engineering new dishes without ever alienating his old-fashioned patrons. While he always keeps a few “traditional” dishes on his hybrid Portuguese-Chinese menu such as spicy beef noodles, garlicky steamed clams, and the most delicate, enchanting steak I’d ever eaten, one of the many things Tong is known for around the island is his innovative spirit. “Every time I eat something, I am thinking about how I can make it better,” Tong said through our translator. “That’s why I opened a restaurant; to explore that.”
“Food is my passion,” he said, though entertaining is clearly another—the impromptu demonstration of his signature dish, drunken sauna shrimp, was a fine example. Inspired by a hungover visit to the sauna, the dish involves getting the shrimp “drunk” by submerging them whole (and live) into a vat of Chinese rice wine before cooking them with hot rocks and steam. I’m not sure if it was due to the cupful of that same rice wine that I had just chugged myself, per Wong’s instruction, but I could have sworn that I heard one of those shrimp hex me as it was steamed into the great beyond.
Hallucinations aside, everything was delicious. According to Tong, “nga tim” in Chinese refers to a place of leisure. “It’s a place that’s so relaxed, you may never want to leave,” he said. As the racket of the dying shrimp hushed, leaving us three to snack in peace under the palm trees, it was clear that the café had rightfully earned its name.
Nga Tim Café
8 Rua do Caetano, Macau