This painting was born from a quiet sadness. During a trip to Hong Kong, I went searching for the cha chaan tengs I remembered—those iconic diners blending Chinese and Western comfort food, full of warmth, soul, and everyday life. But many of them had already closed down. Some had been renovated beyond recognition, others simply vanished—swallowed by the city’s rapid change.

Thankfully, a few still remain.

It was in one of these surviving cafés that the idea for this painting took shape. I sat at a glass-top table, surrounded by green-framed windows, tiled walls, and that familiar, comforting atmosphere. I imagined placing a bottle of Corton Grand Cru 2009 from Domaine de la Romanée-Conti on the table—paired not with fine cuisine, but with egg tarts, toast, and a simple sugar pot. Through the window, old Chinese characters reflect softly on the glass—a ghost of the past still lingering.

For me, cha chaan tengs are more than just places to eat. They hold childhood memories, family conversations, and the rhythm of ordinary joy. Watching them slowly disappear feels deeply personal—like losing small pieces of our shared history.

Pairing a legendary wine with humble café food might seem ironic—but in Hong Kong, where worlds collide in the most unexpected ways, it feels honest. This is a city where a wine collector might still crave a pineapple bun with milk tea. Where elegance lives quietly beside everyday simplicity.

Cha Chaan Teng Elegance is my tribute to that world. A reminder that beauty doesn’t always announce itself—and that sometimes, the most precious things are the ones we’ve always taken for granted.