When cooking is your life, you begin to ask some curious questions, such as How much should a lobster move around in the last hours of its life? For chef Hoi Fung, the answer is “very little.” That’s why, at his 20,000-square-foot restaurant in Houston, he sets the temperature of his seafood tanks between 35-55 degrees.
“That’s my secret,” he says. “When the temperature is low, there’s not too much movement. They don’t lose weight. Same as you: You exercise too much, you lose weight. And then you lose all the flavor.”
As pioneers of Cantonese cuisine in Texas, Hoi and his wife, Nancy, have navigated the best ways to prepare seafood for 35 years. While Fung’s Kitchen is a popular spot for pushcart dim sum on the weekends, its specialty is Hong Kong-style preparations of softshell crab, scallops, and shrimp. You can see that emphasis in the dining room, which is surrounded by nine fish tanks that are restocked three to four times a week—each housing a different aquatic species.
Though the Texas Gulf is nearby, the Fungs prefer catch from colder waters, such as Dungeness crabs from Washington, lobsters from Maine, and king crabs from Norway. In Cantonese cuisine, freshness is paramount, so the staff drives to the airport themselves to pick up live seafood shipments to preserve the integrity of the product. Another hallmark of the family’s home province’s approach to cooking is a light hand when it comes to seasoning. “So, when you eat the fish, you can taste the fish,” Hoi says. “This is Hong Kong-style. You want to taste the original flavor.”
Hoi hails from a culinary family in the Guangdong province in China. His grandfather ran a wonton noodle shop and his father followed suit with nine Hong Kong-based seafood restaurants. In 1971, Hoi quit high school at age 17 to learn the culinary arts, becoming a fourth-generation chef at his father’s restaurant. It was there that he met Nancy. They married in 1982 and moved to Houston that same year in search of greater career opportunities.
Upon their arrival, it quickly became obvious to the couple that their new Texas home did not have much in the way of Cantonese cuisine. Not surprisingly, when Hoi started cooking again, Houston’s Chinese community took note. After eight years working at restaurants like the now-shuttered Golden China in Sharpstown, the Fungs struck out on their own.
With a $90,000 loan, Fung’s Kitchen opened in 1990 in a 3,000-square-foot space along the Southwest Freeway. As the owner, Hoi was free to indulge his perfectionist tendencies on Cantonese classics like a seafood bird’s nest filled with squid, shrimp, scallops, and imitation crab. There’s also the chef’s favorite dish: sole that is filleted, sautéed with vegetables, and served on top of its own battered and fried skeleton. As evidenced by the latter, Hoi is particular about presentation, from the modern décor to plating. For instance, no mismatched or chipped plates are allowed in the restaurant. “When I’m cooking, I want my food on the table to look beautiful,” he explains. “I want it to look as good as it tastes.”
Over the decades, as the restaurant’s reputation grew, so did its square footage. Many a wedding banquet and family celebration have been held at Fung’s Kitchen. But Houstonians had to go without the eatery’s Peking duck and walnut shrimp for nearly two years after a nighttime electrical fire forced the restaurant to shutter in January 2021.
In late fall 2022, Fung’s Kitchen reopened despite repeated COVID-related delays. The renovated spot now features six private dining rooms, chic new carpeting, and crystal chandeliers. At 71, Hoi is still cooking and coming up with ways to wow his diners. Last August, the restaurant debuted its showstopping, 8-pound lobster mountain, constructed from a potato bird’s nest base, french fries, and six wok-tossed lobsters glistening with garlic and chiles. Due almost entirely to the popularity of the dish, Fung’s now goes through 1,000 pounds of lobster a week.
Ever cognizant of the optics, the chef has created “promotion pricing” for the dish: The lobster mountain is $300 in private rooms and a more affordable $168 in the main dining space, where a bigger audience can appreciate its grandeur. Fung considers what he does an art, and like any other artwork, his creations are meant to elicit an emotional response.
“When the dining area has five, six, or seven lobster mountains, I feel this makes the people more happy,” he says proudly. “When people are happier, they make memories.”
