At 6.45am in the morning, the place is packed with diners reading papers with a pot of tea. No staring at the phones, just strangers sharing table together and mingling over food.

This placed is called 蓮香樓. It seemed hectic, but in an orderly kind of manner. Organised chaos. The wait staff pushed a trolley full of delicacies - siew mai, har gow and lou mai kai - pork dumpling, shrimp dumpling and steamed glutinous rice. I forgot what we ordered, but the table was filled with food.

Dim sum are meant to be shared. It’s meant to be consumed in smaller portion, eaten hot over the steaming bamboo basket. A pot of tea is essential, too.

The man seated next to me talked about everything but food - the weather, politics and race horses. An old auntie that pushed the trolley has stopped by one of the regulars, peering over his shoulder at the morning paper. They exchanged a short conversation in Cantonese which I barely understand.

The old lady with the trolley is now gone, back to the kitchen to replenish the depleted food. As she leaves behind a delicious trace of smell, she’d soon be out ready to fill the stomach of diners, and to again stand at where she wants, nonchentantly, oblivion to the happenings around her.