• Article Author: Max Jacobson
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I had many preconceived notions about Macau before a recent visit, and they turned out to be all wrong. I was there in the early part of the decade, just after the region passed from Portugal back to the Chinese government, pre-Venetian, MGM Grand and Wynn. What a difference!

 

On that first visit, which lasted only a few hours before I crossed the South China Sea by hydrofoil to Hong Kong, I entered Macau though a turnstile on the border of Mainland China, from the burgeoning Zhuhai Autonomous Zone. Macau looked dingy, down at the heels. I saw little reason to stay.

 

But in mid-May, with the sun shining, the construction booms roaring, the action at the tables non-stop, I confronted something very different and exciting. Macau has been spruced up, and given a new face.

 

While older areas such as Taipa, graced with calcatas, (Portuguese tiles that line the streets in place of cobblestones) , remain intact with  Old World charm, areas are undergoing unprecedented development.

 

Tourists flock in from the Mainland, there are several new hotels, and the cuisine is generally spectacular, at many Chinese, Portuguese, and Macanese restaurants, the latter doing a fusion cuisine that combines the first two in rustic, appealing ways.

 

I was quite tired after my 14-hour flight on Cathay Pacific, on which I was smart enough to pay a $100 surcharge for an exit row seat. When I landed in Hong Kong, I followed instructions and headed for the boat, which meant that I wasn’t to go through immigration at Chek Lap Kok, Hong Kong’s airport. Incidentally, the airport’s name is hard to forget. I just tell myself it’s the last thing I do before landing.

 

At customs and immigration in Macau, I stood patiently behind a few American punks, in town for a poker tournament at the Wynn. When I emerged from the terminal, I was met by a guide from Macau Tourism named Joao Sales, a Macau native fluent in Cantonese, but who spoke flawless English and Portuguese as well. Later, I met his Chinese wife and baby daughter, and the three of us went to the Cirque du Soleil at the Venetian, a show called Zaia, which I admired for its simplicity. In Vegas, I find the Cirque shows too elaborate. This one appealed to me far more than the ones here, which I find over staged.

 

After a short tour of the giant shopping mall adjacent to the Venetian, his wife and child returned home, and Joao and I landed at one of his favorite local spots, O-Manel, in the quaint village, Taipa, at 31 Fernao Mendes Pinto.

 

The menu was simple; garlic bread, grilled sardines, broiled lamb chops, and way too many Portuguese wines from the Douro River Valley. I slept like a baby after returning to my hotel, the brand new Grand Hyatt Macau.

 

Unfortunately, I woke up at 3 a.m. somewhat jet lagged, so I decided to visit an adjacent casino. When I got there, I could not believe what I saw. Gaming tables were full, and whales, Mainland Chinese gambling at up to 500,000 Hong Kong Dollars ($60,000) per hand, were shouting “monkey”, slang for a ten, jack, queen or king, at the baccarat tables.

 

Gaming executives in Vegas may be scratching their heads about lost revenue, but all they need do is look across the Pacific. Macau gets at least 30 million visitors a year, half of which drive in for the day from a place on the Chinese Mainland. Why would one take a 14-hour flight to gamble in Vegas, when Macau is so close? And it’s only going to grow.

 

The next morning, after a buffet breakfast that included congee with chicken, various steamed buns, fresh watermelon juice and excellent coffee poured from a filter pot, I was ready to see the region.

 

The Grand Hyatt is on a landfill, in an area called City of Dreams. Across the development is Venetian Macau, from the outside, a virtual replica of the one here, but with one of the world’s largest gaming floors, twice the size of the Venetian Las Vegas.

 

Just around the corner, meanwhile, is a development called Galaxy, a seven-billion US dollar resort currently about two years from finishing. I lunched at a wonderful restaurant called O Porto Interior, which was my first real Macanese meal. (At Rua do Almirante Sergio 259-B).

 

The meal started with tempura, (really a Portuguese dish adapted in Japan during the shogun period, and commonly considered Japanese,) and finished with serradura, a pudding of ground crackers, cream and condensed milk that one can make in a blender in two minutes.

 

In between, there were enormous garlic prawns eight inches long, a mild chicken curry, and Portuguese fried rice, an amalgam of Chinese sausage, egg, garlic, peppers and rice-irresistible.

 

This version of tempura, composed of various fried vegetables, squid, shrimp and fish, was wonderful, using more batter than you’d get in a Japanese restaurant. Try making serradura at home. Kids love it. Use a blender, crush a Graham cracker or two, and add them to cream as it is beating. Blend in condensed milk, and top with cracker crumbs.

 

Later that evening, we stopped by the Michelin-rated Antonio, where a former Portuguese soldier, now a chef, runs an eccentric restaurant. If you want to meet a colorful local character, this is the man. He’s had a bevy of wives, is a lights out chef, and will regale you with stories.

 

We were there to taste his homemade ginginha, a Portuguese liqueur made from cherries, and to plan a dinner later in the week. I asked him if he served cocido a la Portuguesa, and he informed me that he did, by advance order. “Well. I’m ordering it in advance”, I told him.

 

“Come back Wednesday,”, he responded. And so I did, and I’ll tell you more about cocido, and the rest of my visit to Macau, in the next post.