Sophia looked back at me periodically to make sure I wasn’t lost, gesturing in the proper direction, as we wove through people and people’s umbrellas in the rainy afternoon. We were in Yuen Long, way out in the western New Territories, and out of our home zones. The KCR light rail—an electric tram—swooshed by, surprising me. The restaurant was up some stairs, unobtrusive home of the “very delicious food” that is Sophia’s favorite in all of Hong Kong. We were led to a table with three typical place settings: small plate, small bowl, chopsticks, teacup and saucer. (Napkins are an anomaly—most Hongkongers carry small packs of tissues for use at meals and Chinese-style public toilets, as well as for dabbing foreheads and necks in this hot weather.) The waitress brought a white teapot of dark, red tea and a big, green ceramic bowl. My hostess took my chopsticks, bundled them with hers in one fist, and carefully poured the dark tea over the bottom tips, letting the liquid and stray tea leaves fall into the green bowl. I watched her wash in this way my bowl and cup, swirling the water inside each one so that all of the surfaces for eating and drinking were touched by tea. When all of our tableware was cleansed, the waitress came and took away the green bowl, ignoring the dark splashes that the process had wrought on our white tablecloth. Sophia promptly filled my cup with the same, red tea. “Drinking tea is very healthy,” she observed, while her friend implied that drinking tea with a meal helped one to not gain as much weight. For certain, it complemented our delicious meal: chicken, shrimp, bitter melon with soybeans, lotus-root soup, rice, and dumplings with egg custard.