At half past five in the evening, we made our way back up to the 17th floor.
We had taken tea here only that afternoon, and already the counter had been transformed. The afternoon tea was cleared away and dinner had taken its place. I had assumed Happy Hour meant a few small plates to accompany the drinks; one circuit of the room told me otherwise.
The Steamer Opens: Black Gua Bao
Along the row of hot dishes, the first thing I saw was a bamboo steamer, its lid firmly in place.
Lift the lid, and inside were black gua bao buns, arranged one by one in the steamer, steamed soft.
Beside it sat a pot of braised pork belly, glossy from the braising. Tuck a slice of pork into a bun, scatter peanut powder, add cilantro — each person builds their own.
I love this kind of hands-on eating. When dinner asks one small action of you, the pace of the meal slows down.
On the same row were fish-roe siu mai; the moment the steamer opened, the steam rose first.
The moon shrimp cakes were cut into slices and kept warm in a pan, golden and evidently crisp.
Further along: beef fried rice, chicken with seasonal vegetables, baked green curry chicken — pot after pot.
Last came the soup. Beside the cream of mushroom soup were small bowls of croutons and pumpkin seeds — add as much as you like, yourself.
By this point, I had stopped thinking of this meal as small plates to go with wine. This was dinner — and a very serious dinner at that.
Smoked Salmon, Two Ways
The cold dishes were on a counter on the other side. Cheese, cold cuts, smoked salmon — each with a small card in front of it giving its name and allergens, all very clear.
The smoked salmon came in two kinds — one plain, one coated in herbs. I took a little of each, with onion and a touch of sauce.
The bread and desserts were at the other end of the counter. Several kinds of bread, the butter in small individual boxes; the desserts were petits fours set out in neat rows — a display that makes you linger for a second look.
A Glass of Sparkling Wine First
The wines rested in an ice bucket — red wine, white wine, beer, sparkling water — the bottles still beaded with droplets when you picked them up.
There were several wines that day; I picked them up to read the labels.
The sparkling wine was a Prosecco, chilling beside the cocktail counter.
Poured into a flute, the bubbles kept streaming upward. Sitting by the window, drinking slowly, I watched the sky darken.
The Signatures the Staff Recommended
The lounge has its own cocktail list; the evening cocktails are served from half past five to half past seven. There are six refined cocktails and two InterContinental signatures.
The staff recommended the InterContinental signatures, said to be the lounge's favourites. We ordered both: the InterContinental 77 — gin, sparkling wine and lemon — and the InterContinental Roni — gin, vermouth and Campari, amber in colour.
Afterwards, we ordered the tiramisu as well. Vodka, fresh milk, espresso and tiramisu syrup, dusted with a layer of cocoa powder and served in a stemmed glass — it looked exactly like a dessert.
I adored that glass. When it was finished, I ordered another, and savoured it slowly.
Dessert in the End, After All
At the end, I found my way back to the desserts. A small piece each of cheesecake and chocolate tartlet, finished slowly with what wine remained in the glass.
The two hours passed faster than expected. We were full, and outside it was completely dark. One last glass of sparkling wine, to close this Happy Hour with a perfect little heart.
