The fried dough stick, soaked in warm soymilk, loses its usual crispness. Soggy and limp, it sinks to the bottom of the bowl, drooping listlessly as if all its spirit has faded away.
The flaky, tender wrapper enrobes a rich, creamy molten filling. Like a playful little creature, it cannot contain its sweet fragrance, which gently spills out irresistibly.
The ingredients fished out from sampan conee are as unpredictable as the fish an angler may catch, brimming with boundless possibilities.
The glossy sheen on the surface of the swan pastry sparkles brilliantly, just like crushed diamonds gilded by sunlight.
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