Interview by Aude Camus
If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve probably noticed it already: I’ve used these past months of maternity leave to rediscover Hong Kong. Wandering with no particular plan, letting the wind decide where I go, stopping in a cha chaan teng for an iced Hong Kong Milk Tea, venturing into neighbourhoods I don’t usually take the time to explore, soaking up the city’s history and the communities that shape it, or admiring local craftsmanship — like that last remaining workshop where porcelain is still hand-painted.
To guide my little adventures, I relied on online research… but also on books. And that’s how I came across the newly released Hong Kong À La Carte.
More than a cookbook, it tells the story and culture of the city through its iconic recipes and the intertwined narratives of its two authors: Davina Chang, a Hongkonger now based in Paris where she runs a café showcasing milk tea, egg tarts and pineapple buns in the 3rd arrondissement, and Ada Deschanel, a Frenchie who fell head over heels for the Fragrant Harbour — so much so that she keeps coming back, and even imagines living here one day.
By a happy twist of timing, Ada happened to be in Hong Kong promoting the book so I had the chance to sit down with her over coffee, exchange our visions of this city we both adore, and dive into what inspired this deeply personal project.
You've said that Hong Kong saved you during a very difficult time. How did it all began?
Completely true. Two and a half years ago, right after Covid, I was going through a breakup and a full-on burnout. On a whim, I booked a ticket and messaged my brother’s godfather, who lives here and who first introduced me to the city pre-pandemic. I wrote: “I’m not doing well… can I come next week?” He said yes immediately.
I came for twenty days… and I didn’t want to go back to France. It was physical — I felt calm, grounded, alive.
When I finally returned home, the idea of moving here started growing in my mind. I even came back two months later, just to check whether it was a real pull or just a fleeting impulse.
And that’s when you met Davina?
Yes! Back in Paris, I was looking for a real Hong Kong–style café. I found Davina ’s (editor's note: Bing Sutt in the third arrondissement). The first day I went, the street was under construction, the pastry chef was sick, and there was nothing to eat. We ended up chatting for hours anyway. I came back the next day — still nothing to eat — and then the day after, when I bought everything in sight.
Within fifteen days, it became my HQ. I worked there, I brought friends, family… That’s how it all started.
And the book? Did the idea come quickly?
Very quickly. I had a gap in my schedule and pitched the idea to my publisher. I told them, half-joking: “What if I wrote a book about Hong Kong?” I was expecting an immediate no — Hong Kong is still niche in France. And instead, they said: “Okay… but it’ll be tight.”
That same day, I told Davina: “Do you want to write a book with me? We’ve known each other for a month but you know…” And she said yes right away. She’d always dreamed of writing a book, but didn’t know where to start.
You didn’t know anything about Hong Kong cuisine at first, right?
Nothing at all. During my first visits, I did what most people do: expat restaurants, coffee shops, Michelin stars… Then one day, I thought: wait — there must be more.
It was during hikes in the New Territories that I started stepping into cha chaan tengs, without even realising they were cha chaan tengs. I tried a pineapple bun — which I thought had banana in it, like many people often believe — then milk teas, soft white-bread toasts, curry fish balls… And little by little, I became obsessed.
The book follows the rhythm of a day, from breakfast to night. Why that structure?
Because here, there isn’t really a starter / main / dessert structure in local gastronomy, and not much seasonality either. Organising it by moments of the day just made sense — even though, honestly, you can eat a pineapple bun at 9am or 4pm.
Did you adapt the recipes for a French audience?
We had to, yes. For example, you don’t exactly have a proper Chinese BBQ at home to make char siu. I tested everything — every single recipe. Some drove me crazy, like the mango mochi… I had to try three times before getting the texture right.
The char siu in the book is great, but ideally I’d have a 48-hour marinade. In the book, we put 12 hours because otherwise no one would attempt it. When I give the book to friends, I write a little note: “If you have time… do 48 hours!”
How did you divide the writing?
Very naturally. Davina grew up here, so she wrote everything deeply cultural: yum cha, siu mai, the Dragon Boat Festival… I took the more documentary parts: hikes, neighbourhoods I explored.
We also decided to pair each story with a recipe — Cheung Chau with mango mochi, Tai O with the donut…
You insisted on shooting the book in Hong Kong.
Yes — it was essential. Publishing houses usually prefer studios and the classic photographer–stylist duo… but we wanted the real thing.
We carried dishes into the street, shot on pavements, on market polystyrene boxes. When the editors saw the first photos, they said, “It’s amazing how well you recreated the set!” And we answered: “But… this is the set.”
Davina is incredible — she can photograph anything and make it beautiful. And I handled the styling, with a giant bag full of chopsticks and props.
No competition between you? She’s a Hongkonger, you’re not…
It was my fear — but not at all. She kept telling me, “You know today’s Hong Kong better than I do!” We were completely complementary; everything flowed.
How did you end up writing and styling cookbooks?
My parents cooked all the time, so I grew up eating good food. I studied languages, then strategy. I worked for a venue rental company as a writer — my first step into writing.
When they offered me a permanent contract, I said no. I couldn’t picture myself behind a desk. I quit everything, without a plan, hoping my passion for food would lead me somewhere.
I went on unemployment, started a blog, Instagram, and wrote a book project about sandwiches, which got rejected (of course, two years later, sandwiches were trending). Same thing for eggs.
Then I met a food stylist on Instagram. I reached out to her and she explained her job — and I knew instantly: that’s what I wanted. I assisted on shoots, worked with publishing houses, and entered the field writing Cookeo recipe books. Now I get regular commissions — I even have a book on herbal infusions coming out soon, which I loved writing. Dried flowers from Sheung Wan are my obsession!
Any other book ideas in mind?
Yes, there’s one destination I’ve been dreaming of for a while: French Guiana. Nothing to do with Hong Kong or Asia, but it’s a place deeply shaped by migration and colonisation — and that’s exactly what fascinates me. My angle would be to explore how 20th-century migration shaped its cuisine. I don’t know if I’ll dive into it right away, but I can’t wait to go and see for myself.
And Hong Kong — a chapter closed or still very much open?
Always open. It’s not a dream I’ve shelved. Every time I come back, I feel aligned — truly myself. I don’t know when or how, but the idea of living in Hong Kong has never left me. It’s still there, firmly rooted.
