Kitchen Confidential
Is it the end of the road for our private kitchens?
They’re hidden in plain sight—unremarkable doors with a lone “Members Only” sign, half-opened shutters with waiters bustling about, obscure names that could be anything.
They’re private kitchens: restaurants in random buildings that offer diners a slice of home. But why is the government cracking down on them? And what stops these entrepreneurs from setting up their own official restaurants?
The problem lies in the licenses. Despite our ever-burgeoning dining scene, the government is still adamant about their licensing policies. Currently, a potential restaurateur who’d like to set up shop would need separate approval from at least four government departments, including food safety, fire standards and general building services. Attaining a full license takes an average of six months, compared to a city like Tokyo where gaining approval can be as quick as 24 hours.
And even if they were to be approved, there’s no saying whether they’d meet all the departmental requirements, many of which are inspected on a random basis. According to the FEHD, 2007 saw over 6,000 convicted cases involving hygiene problems, with fines totaling $16 million. It’s little wonder then that many prefer to open a private kitchen.
Seven years ago, there was a dearth of decent restaurants in our city. Because of all the legalities involved, those passionate about food took a cue from the prohibition days: converting offices and apartments into their own “speakeasies,” private kitchens offering a smaller menu made up of better food. The real restaurants were forced to step up their game, and now our market has a unique balance.
But the popularity of private kitchens was also its potential downfall, and soon came the legal issue. Private kitchens tread the line, says Simon Wong, president of the Hong Kong Federation of Restaurants. Many operate under a club license—a legal loophole that allows you to operate as long as patrons are “members,” but also comes with its own hygiene and safety regulations. Others choose to ignore the license problem and operate without one. “But if you operate without a license, then there’s no way to ensure the safety of the customer,” says Wong.
And it’s the safety, says the government, that matters. Because many private kitchens have flagrant disregard for laws, the Food and Health Bureau (FHB) and the FEHD have been taking action. In 2007, they prosecuted the operators of 2,065 unlicensed food premises. The message is clear: “Operating without a valid license is an offence under the Food Business Regulation. The maximum penalty is a fine of $50,000 and imprisonment for six months.”