Architect André Fu Shares His Insider Guide to Native Hong Kong

Architect André Fu Shares His Insider Guide to Native Hong Kong - Exploring Architectural Landmarks: Fu's Favorite Buildings in Hong Kong

I’ve spent a lot of time looking at Hong Kong’s skyline, but André Fu sees something totally different when he walks these streets. It isn’t just about the flashy glass towers you see on postcards; it’s about the soul hidden in the concrete. Take those rare pre-war buildings tucked away in corners of Central, where you can still spot structural timber joints that somehow survived the humidity. And honestly, most people walk right past them, but they’re engineering marvels from a time when we didn't just throw up steel frames and call it a day. Then there’s the post-war public housing, which has this specific concrete aggregate that gives the walls a grit and color you won't find anywhere else. It feels real, almost like the building is breathing with the city's history. I’m always fascinated by how these older spots used "wind catchers" and deep verandas to handle the monsoon heat before air conditioning became the default. It's actually pretty cool how Fu points out modernist facades from the 70s that secretly hide traditional Chinese roof tiles along their ridges. You don’t see that kind of Neo-Classical masonry anymore because the labor costs just went through the roof after 1970. Look at the way the local granite has weathered; it develops this dark, salty patina that tells you exactly how close you are to the harbor. We often prioritize shiny and new, but I think we’re losing that tactile connection to the materials that actually belong here. Next time you’re wandering through the Mid-Levels, stop looking at your phone and try to find where the old stone meets the new glass.

Architect André Fu Shares His Insider Guide to Native Hong Kong - Culinary Journeys: André Fu's Must-Try Native Food Experiences

Look, when we talk about Hong Kong food, we aren't just talking about dim sum everyone knows; we're getting into the real science of flavor that André Fu appreciates. He focuses on these micro-details, you know, like pointing out preserved salted plums where the specific *Lactobacillus plantarum* strain gives them a savory depth from succinic acid you just don't find in the mass-produced stuff. Then he gets really specific about the *har gow* wrapper, insisting the steaming has to hit exactly 98.5°C for four minutes—it’s all about hitting that perfect starch gelatinization so it’s chewy but not gluey, that ideal 'Q' texture. And don’t even get me started on the watercress; he notes the wild stuff has way more of those peppery compounds, the isothiocyanates, meaning it actually tastes like it’s doing something good for you. Maybe it’s just me, but I love that he zeroes in on local Threadfin Bream that pulls selenium levels up just because of where it’s swimming in Mirs Bay, affecting its sweetness profile. We’re talking about alkalinity in the water used for bamboo noodles—a pH of 8.5 cross-linking gluten just right for that super springy bite that holds up in broth. He even mentioned the smoked duck needs pomelo peels dried with specific mold, *Penicillium digitatum*, to get that necessary bittersweet aromatic layer. It’s this forensic attention to ingredient chemistry that separates a good meal from one that truly speaks to the place, and frankly, I want to try every single one of those highly specific preparations.

Architect André Fu Shares His Insider Guide to Native Hong Kong - Design Inspiration: How Hong Kong's Culture Shapes Fu's Work

Honestly, when you look at André Fu's designs, you have to stop thinking about just what you see and start thinking about what Hong Kong *smells* and *feels* like. You know that specific, dull green-brown color you see on old *Tong Lau* roofs after years of the city air oxidizing the copper? That's often the exact muted palette he pulls into his interiors, which is wild when you consider the context. And it’s not just color; it’s space itself. He really leans into that Chinese garden idea, *Jie Jing*, where you don't just walk in; you get this managed visual journey, making you pause before you see the next thing. Think about it this way: in a city that screams upward, he brings in heavy, dark stone bases to visually plant the whole thing down, kind of like a necessary anchor against all that vertical noise. Then there's the texture—he actually uses local bamboo that's been steamed at high heat, which, believe it or not, makes it about eighteen percent denser than wood just left alone. But maybe the most fascinating part is the emptiness; he plays with negative space, borrowing from that Daoist idea of *Xu*, where the empty part is actually the useful part, showing up as those huge, calm stretches of floor in his lobbies. And that lattice pattern you see sometimes? It’s directly nicked from the old windows in the New Territories, where they precisely calculated how much light should come through. We’re talking about water features too, always there, referencing the old Feng Shui rules about keeping that kinetic energy flowing just right.