​Bringing precision, inspiration, and élan to Fortune Room’s market-driven Cantonese cuisine, Chef Paul Tsui embodies “street smart” genius as he effortlessly improvises, crafting extraordinary dishes from the freshest of market ingredients.

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Paul never waited for a cue to create. He started cooking as a teenager, drawn not by prestige but by curiosity – and by the heat and kinetic energy of the city’s open-air markets and dai pai dongs: “Just the clatter of cleavers, the scent of brine, and the urgency to cook what was freshest before the stalls closed,” he recalls. This early immersion in Hong Kong’s market pulse became his culinary anchor, a foundation he now carries into Fortune Room’s refined, ingredient-driven ethos.

Here, menus are not planned – they are discovered. Each dish begins with a predawn market visit as Paul’s hand sifts through geoduck, threadfin, and mud crab with the discernment of a seasoned forager. His intuition in selecting the very best seasonal produce and the freshest catches prompts him to ask, “What’s in season? What’s singing today?” ​

Epitomising this philosophy is his Smoky Dry-Aged Threadfin – a showstopper crafted for The Hong Kong Jockey Club’s 140th anniversary. A tea-smoked tribute to the South China Sea, it is aged for three days to intensify its flavour, using a Peking duck technique repurposed with maritime finesse. “But aging isn’t merely about flavour,” he reflects. “It’s about honouring the ingredient’s journey from tide to table.”

Whether it’s drunken lobster, or sand ginger chicken, Paul’s dishes feel personal. “Some ingredients whisper memories,” he says. Even his playful fried rice – studded with offal and drizzled with sauce – bridges nostalgia and novelty. “The gold-leaf garnish is photogenic,” he laughs, “but the real essence is the story in every bite.”

Training his team mirrors his dance between discipline and spontaneity. “I cook a dish first – no recipes, just instinct,” he says. He then guides his chefs through the alchemy of turning market finds into masterpieces. “Too much water? Timing off?” he asks. “That’s how we learn – by respecting each ingredient’s voice.”

Fortune Room’s menu shifts daily to showcase near-forgotten delicacies like crab clay pot or bonito broth, dishes Paul reviews through relationships with niche suppliers: “I’ll ask, what’s rare this week? Let’s give it new life.” His innovations never overshadow tradition but rather converse with it. Dishes that feel both meticulous and vibrant, like his Chaozhou radish, once absent from the menu until some guests requested it months later. “They couldn’t name it,” he recalls. “But they remembered the sensation.”

Paul’s humility masks a quiet revolution. He studies regional chefs with a disciple’s hunger, absorbing ideas to refine his market-driven craft, yet insists that “there’s always more to learn”. His brilliance lies in translation – elevating humble market treasures into moments that linger long after the last bite.

“At heart,” Paul shrugs, “we’re simply a restaurant.” But his creative flair in the kitchen, his talent for crafting daily off-menu creations, his ability to transform any fresh ingredients into unforgettable dishes turn a meal into a mosaic of Hong Kong’s myriad culinary influences, a work of art where the market’s rhythm meets the quiet confidence of innovation. “If a dish sparks a memory, or better yet, creates a new one – that’s the fortune we share.”