Until 18 months ago, sinister teams of snoopers from the Food and Environmental Hygiene Department preyed on restaurant operators. They took an unhealthy glee in their work, lurking like wolves to ambush chefs who served people seated outside.
Government preoccupation with stamping out alfresco dining bordered on the malevolent; food fascists displayed fanatical enthusiasm in persecuting innocuous noodle peddlers.
That dreary era has passed. We now have a more adult food licensing regime. It's comparatively simple, as it always should have been, for restaurants to stick a few tables outside so customers can dine, sip, gossip and relax. The decades-long idiocy of the official ban on outdoor restaurant seating struck me again last week at Centenary Garden Square in Tsim Sha Tsui East.
Outside a cafe, people sat in the pale winter sunshine, reading papers and talking. I almost burst out laughing thinking of the almighty efforts officious busybodies wasted over so many years trying to prevent something so natural.
The reasoning that led to the unique Hong Kong ban on dining outdoors always puzzled and infuriated me. I could never get any civil servant or politician to give a sane explanation. Today, the demented inquisition of cafe proprietors seems like the lunacy of another age.
The first permits which allowed Hong Kong diners to join the rest of the civilised world were issued on a trial basis in March last year. Some civil servants and politicians made such a feast over this simple move that you could be forgiven for thinking that the world was trembling on the brink of catastrophe.
