Hong Kong! Read online

  Hong Kong!

  written with Taylor Morris

  illustrated by Francesca Gambatesa

  Grosset & Dunlap

  An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  To my sister, Eloisa, with whom I first explored the beautiful city of Hong Kong . . . and who taught me that even though the world is one giant adventure map begging to be explored, the biggest treasures are always at home!

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Text copyright © 2014 by GDL Foods, Inc. Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Francesca Gambatesa. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN: 978-0-698-16744-5

  Version_1

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  A Note from Giada

  Recipes

  “What kind of food do you think they eat in Peru?” Alfie asked his sister as they sat at the family computer in the living room and researched world maps, customs, and foods from around the globe. “I bet Zia Donatella’s been. We could ask her to tell us stories from there!”

  It’d been months since Alfie and his sister, Emilia, traveled to Paris and even longer since their trip to Naples. Although traveled may not be the best word for what happened. They still didn’t really understand it, but their adventures most definitely had something to do with their great-aunt Donatella, the food she cooked, and the stories she told them. Alfie and Emilia couldn’t wait for their next adventure. Only this time, they hoped they might get to help choose their destination.

  “No, let’s go to Greece,” Emilia said, pointing to the screen as she clicked the mouse. “Someplace like this island called Santorini. Look at those white buildings and perfect blue water!”

  “Or maybe someplace crazy different, like Morocco,” Alfie said, clicking away from the Greece page.

  “Go back! I was looking at that.”

  “Hey, kids,” Dad said as he came into the living room. “What are you doing? Planning our next vacation?” Little did he know that they were trying to plan a trip, only it didn’t involve him or their mom. It was always just Alfie and Emilia who traveled, which was sometimes scary but always an adventure.

  “Just looking at maps,” Alfie replied. He really did love maps, so it wasn’t strange for him to be studying one on-screen.

  “Alfie, are you still going to help me clear out the garage this weekend?” Dad asked.

  Alfie had forgotten he’d promised to help his dad. “Well, I was going to play soccer on Saturday,” Alfie said.

  “What about you, Emilia?”

  “Sorry, Dad,” she said. “I’m working on a school project that’s due Monday.”

  “Sheesh, you two,” Dad said. “Way to ditch the old man.”

  Alfie didn’t notice when Dad left the living room because he and Emilia went back to fighting over control of the computer. Emilia’s next idea was to travel to Belize; Alfie was now thinking about India.

  “Kids! Who wants a snack?” they heard their Zia Donatella call from the kitchen.

  Emilia could have the computer—Alfie was off to see what Zia was making.

  “What kind of snack?” Alfie asked as he entered the kitchen with Emilia close behind.

  “How about some pancakes?” Zia said. Her long salt-and-pepper hair was piled high on her head and held up with two red chopsticks.

  “After dinner?” Alfie asked.

  Emilia didn’t seem to care since she was already at the refrigerator, ready to help. “You need the eggs, milk—Alfie, get the flour and sugar from the pantry.”

  They’d made all kinds of pancakes on Sunday mornings, and both Alfie and his sister could make them—from scratch—on their own.

  “No, no, not that kind of pancake,” Zia said. Even though it was the end of the day, Zia was still dressed beautifully in wide-leg tomato-red pants with a fitted blouse and a necklace of several long, shiny golden strands. Alfie knew that his sister loved Zia’s easy style. “All we need is the flour. Plus a little warm water and a little cold.”

  “That’s it?” Alfie asked. “What can you make with flour and water?”

  “A thousand things! They are a magic combination on their own, but I do have one secret ingredient,” Zia said. From the refrigerator, she pulled out a bunch of something long and green. “Scallions!” she said triumphantly. “They’re like onions but have a much milder flavor. Now hand me that bowl,” she said, pointing to the blue bowl on the counter.

  “So, Zia,” Alfie said as he passed the bowl to her, “where does this dish come from?” In other words, where were they going next?!

  “Oh, lots of places.” She mixed the flour with some cold water, then added warm water from the tap. Suddenly, what had been a pile of fine flour became firm, round dough. Magic, just like Zia had said.

  “Yeah, but where did you learn this recipe?” Emilia asked eagerly.

  “What recipe?” Mom came into the kitchen, followed by Dad.

  “Cooking again, Donatella?” Dad said. “That big dinner wasn’t enough?”

  Earlier that night, the whole family pitched in to cook a dinner of chicken piccata with a side of asparagus, cherry tomatoes, and mozzarella. Alfie didn’t even have to be asked to slice the fresh cheese, and Mom taught Emilia how to tell when the chicken was cooked through. Since Zia arrived, they had become quite the sous-chefs.

  “Just a little treat from my days in China,” Zia said.

  Alfie and Emilia looked at each other. “China!”

  “Who wants to slice the scallions?” Zia asked, and before Alfie could jump to it, Dad was already around the counter, knife in hand.

  “I hardly ever get to help out,” he said as he started on the scallions. Alfie slumped back in his seat.

  “Zia, you’re always telling the kids about your travels,” Mom said. “Tell us all a new story.”

  “Like, what’s the coolest thing you saw in China?” Alfie asked, leaning on the counter.

  “Do you think dragons are cool?” Zia asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Uh, yeah!” Alfie said. “But you didn’t really see dragons, did you?”

  “I most certainly did,
dancing down the streets,” Zia said. “Lions, too.”

  Alfie and Emilia looked to their parents for confirmation that Zia was pulling their legs. Dad shrugged as he finished with the scallions. “Presto!” he said, setting his knife down.

  As she turned out the dough on the counter, Zia said, “Hong Kong was magical, and I loved being there since it’s by the water like my home, Naples. The Chinese believe water brings harmony and prosperity into life.” Zia rolled out the dough into a long, flat oval shape. Then she brushed it with sesame oil. “The food in Hong Kong even reminded me of Italy, at least un poco, a little.”

  “Really? How’s that possible?” Alfie asked. He’d ordered plenty of Chinese takeout, and none of it remotely resembled Italian food.

  “You don’t think Chinese noodles are a little like spaghetti?” Zia asked. “Or dumplings a little like ravioli?”

  Alfie had never thought about that before, but now that Zia mentioned it, he saw her point.

  “Now for the scallions,” Zia said. She tossed a small handful onto the dough. “Allora, aiuta. Help.” Alfie hoped this meant that they might soon be off to China, and he started feeling excited. But as soon as Dad grabbed the bowl of scallions, Alfie got a bit annoyed. He’d been traveling the world with just his sister—he definitely didn’t need (or want) his parents tagging along now.

  “Dad, I got it,” Alfie said, putting his hand in front of his dad to stop him from adding more.

  “Hey, can’t I help this time?” Dad asked.

  “Some red pepper flakes might be good, too,” Zia said, sprinkling some over the top as Dad finished with the scallions. Zia then rolled the dough up so it looked like a snake, cut it into thirds, then rolled each of those sections around like a cinnamon bun. “Who wants to have a try smashing one into a pancake?”

  “I do!” Alfie called, but before he could get to it, his dad pounded the side of his fist down into the dough.

  “Perfect!” Zia said, flattening it out even more. They did the same to the rest of the dough sections, and Zia fried them, one by one, in a hot pan with vegetable oil. They came out golden brown and smelled of sweet onion.

  As the family ate the snacks—slightly crispy on the outside with a mild onion flavor and a hint of red pepper—Alfie figured that, unfortunately, they weren’t going anywhere. Would he ever get another chance to taste the special food Zia made from China?

  Alfie couldn’t sleep. Every time he felt himself dozing off, another thought popped into his head, as if his brain didn’t want him to relax. Since he couldn’t keep his eyes closed he stared at the map of the world on his wall.

  He decided to get out of bed. Maybe he’d get back on the computer and look up the big cities of China, like Beijing, Hong Kong, and Shanghai, or other places in the world he might want to see.

  He headed into the living room, but before he could get on the computer he noticed a dim light coming from the kitchen.

  “Hey,” he said, finding Emilia leaning over the plate of leftover scallion pancakes. “What’re you doing?” He sat on a stool opposite her and helped himself to one of the other pancakes.

  “Can’t sleep,” Emilia said, taking a bite.

  “Me, either,” Alfie agreed. He bit into the pancake—it was still crispy and filled with the slightly sweet flavor of the scallions. “I just keep staring at my map and thinking.”

  “About China?”

  Alfie smiled through another bite. “Maybe. And dragons and lions. You think Zia was teasing us about all that?”

  “No way,” Emilia said. “She doesn’t need to exaggerate her stories.”

  “True,” Alfie said, thinking. “What about Mom and Dad helping out with the pancakes?”

  “I know!” Emilia said. “Dad was, like, all over it!”

  They sat quietly for a moment. Lowering his voice, Alfie said, “Do you think Zia was trying to, you know, send us on another adventure?” It was something they only talked about in whispers, and only to each other.

  “I thought so,” Emilia said. “But who knows? We’ve had tons of food from all over the world over the past few months from Zia, and we haven’t gone anywhere since Paris. We still don’t really know how this works.”

  “Or when it’ll happen,” Alfie said.

  “But China would be cool,” Emilia said. “Zia said the food in Hong Kong kind of reminded her of Italy.”

  “It’d be fun to go someplace so different from home.” Alfie pictured it all in his mind again. “I mean, I’ve seen pictures of China but to be there, in the mix with all those people . . .”

  “. . . hearing the language and seeing signs written with Chinese characters . . .”

  “. . . and tasting the food . . .”

  Alfie and Emilia were lost in their thoughts of China. As they took their last bites of the scallion pancakes, they got that strange but familiar feeling in the pits of their stomachs, like being on a roller coaster that suddenly drops . . .

  It happened quickly. One moment they were sitting in their kitchen at home over a plate of scallion pancakes, and the next they were standing on a street in a foreign city, just like when they went to Naples and Paris. The light from neon signs hanging above and around them lit up Emilia’s face as Alfie watched her take it all in. Strings of lights were draped festively across the street from one side to the other, red paper lanterns hung from awnings, and the sidewalk was packed with more people than Alfie had ever seen. And then he saw a dragon in a window across the street. It was long and skinny like a snake but as tall as his dad. Its scales were bright orange and green and were made of some kind of thin material.

  “I think we’re in Hong Kong,” Emilia said breathlessly. Alfie knew that already, looking at the dragon—just like Zia had said, but not at all like Alfie had imagined. “The signs,” Emilia continued. “They’re in Chinese characters and in English.”

  She was right—they were surrounded by signs in two languages. He hadn’t noticed right away—the abundance of things to see and the people all around was overwhelming.

  But Alfie wasn’t overwhelmed—he felt incredibly excited. Excited and ready to start their adventure—getting their bearings, discovering places to eat, and finding a friendly face to help them get around. Just like they’d done in Naples and Paris.

  “You’re here!” a voice called from down the street. A girl emerged from the crowd. She wore a red tracksuit and had her black hair pulled back in a tight, low bun. She looked to be about Alfie’s age, and she carried a gym bag over her shoulder that was almost as big as she was. When she stood in front of them, she looked relieved. “I am so glad. Mother and Father would not be happy if I lost you.”

  “You . . . know us?” Emilia asked.

  “You are the foreign exchange students? From America?” the girl asked. “I was supposed to pick you up but lost track of time. Please don’t tell my parents. They’ll be so mad if they know I was at the gym late,” she said. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

  The girl opened the door that Alfie and Emilia stood in front of, which they hadn’t noticed. The sign above the door wasn’t illuminated, but Alfie could still see the English writing. THE GOLDEN LION, it read.

  Inside, warm air engulfed them. It turned out the Golden Lion was a restaurant—more than a dozen tables filled the space. The ceilings were low but the light glowed warm and bright, and the walls were painted a bright orange-red. The kitchen in the back was open, and Alfie could see the shiny steel appliances and counters from the doorway. There was a fish tank along the dining- room wall with several brightly colored fish of all sizes swimming lazily among the aquarium plants.

  But between the kitchen and Alfie sat a mass of people all gathered around several tables in the center of the room—and everyone sitting there stared back at them.

  “You made it!” a woman said, walking toward them with a smile spread across her
round face. “Ying found you okay, then. Was the walk from the station all right?”

  Alfie felt his head nodding yes. “Yes, it was fine,” he said. He knew from their other adventures that it was best to go along with things.

  “Good,” the woman said. “Normally we can’t pull Ying away from her gymnastics. I was almost afraid she would leave you wandering the streets of Hong Kong alone!”

  The girl dropped her gym bag and walked toward the table—but not before pausing behind her mother’s back and winking at Alfie and Emilia.

  At the mention of Hong Kong, though, Alfie now knew what city they had landed in! And Ying—that must be the girl’s name.

  “Everything looks delicious,” Ying said, taking a seat at the table. “I’m so hungry.”

  “Yes, come in, come over,” the woman said, guiding them to the table. “We are so happy to be hosting you, especially here in our restaurant. Come meet my husband.”

  “Hello,” a man said, standing up and coming toward them.

  Alfie thought he remembered that, in China, it was customary to bow to one another. As the older man got closer, Alfie bowed from the waist. Emilia picked up on what her brother was doing, and she did a little curtsy. While his head was still down, Alfie heard giggling coming from the table. The man had his hand outstretched for a handshake, and several people at the table—including Ying—were quietly laughing.

  “Ying!” the mother snapped. Ying quickly stifled her laugh, and the others at the table quieted down, too. “Shaking hands is just fine,” the woman said. The man had a smile on his face that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He nodded toward his hand, and Alfie shook it. He had a light grip.

  “Welcome to our city and our restaurant,” the man said. “We are so happy to have you. Here, have a seat.” He offered Alfie a chair; Ying sat next to him and Emilia sat next to her.