Nomads, TST

53-59 Kimberley Rd, Tsim Sha Tsui

I’ve got a New Year’s resolution to actually update this blog. I pretty much stopped eating properly in September because I’ve been a little silly; food was more sustenance than art, which is obviously a travesty by Hong Kong standards.

So I thought I’d start off with something easy, a nice little self-server: Nomads on Kimberly Road. It’s been around for a while, I remember going for one-too-many birthday dinners here when I was in high school. I always thought we looked annoying to fellow diners; three tables pushed together with little gwai muis giggling and screaming at eachother, taking flash candid photos, dressed up like tarts while a mother desperately tries to cover her 8 year old’s ears as we spit out how fuuuuucking hot Justin Timberlake is. Not much has changed; Justin Timberlake is still futuresex, and I was still taking flash photos… this time, of the banging food that gets grilled in the open kitchen. And, after a few glasses of wine, we were cracking up like we were 17 again.

I think what I love most about Nomads though is how everyone always feels like such a chef after their first serve up. You try your dish and go, “Holy shit, I should be a chef.” Then you start listing what you’re gonna put in next – whether you’re going to follow in some Korean path with a bi bim bap inspired dish, the sesame oil and chili paste taking control of your gastronomic experience with a fried egg to meld the complex flavour profile you’ve established. Or perhaps in a more South Asian strand, you abuse the satay sauces, curry spices and chili until you realise you’ve permanently destroyed sensation on your tongue. And I suppose that’s what so nice about Nomads; they offer so many fresh ingredients that you can’t not make a good meal out of what you’re offered. Unless you’re Diane (soundbite: “this tastes like shit. This is shit.) – in which case, at least you had a good time whipping something up at the ingredients bar.

Essentially, if you’re not taste-retarded you can’t go wrong here. It’s a great place for group dinners, for work or your casual, random play.  Fun fact though, which might be jokes to crack out at a company dinner when you’re on a desperate track to impressing your boss: apparently, the Mongolian ‘barbecue’ phenomena is not at all Mongolian but Taiwanese, resembling a teppanyaki with an iron griddle to cook on.  The fresh seafood should’ve given the game away, as Mongolia is landlocked, and the abundance of vegetables and spices is contrary to their traditional recipes which are notorious for utilising or preserving all parts of the animal – your fat, meat and milk bunch, if one may.

Anyway, be it Taiwanese or Mongolian, we ripped up the bar some kinda delicious.

For dinner, you’re looking to spend $190 on the buffet ($90~ for lunch I think) and why not get yourself a nice Pinot Grigio for $200.  My only qualm with this place is the next level toilets outside, where you have to get a key from the front-of-house.  And the chairs, covered with some lamb fleece material, look like they’ve survived a trek on the trans-Mongolian.



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