He left his desk job in the US to run a food stall in Hong Kong. He earns more now — but plans to walk away from it soon.

Hong Kong's dai pai dong food stalls are facing extinction. The remaining licenses are only transferrable to family members.

• Toby To Yan Choi left his accounting job in California to help his father run a food stall in Hong Kong.
• His hours became longer and more grueling, but he has started earning more than double his previous salary.
• Dai pai dongs — Hong Kong's open-air stalls serving food with a no-frills approach — are disappearing.

Eight years ago, Toby To Yan Choi left his accounting job in California to help run his family's business: a wet market food stall in Hong Kong.

With a bachelor's degree in economics from the University of California, Santa Barbara, Choi had been dedicating 40 hours a week to his desk job, often glued to a computer screen. He was in his 20s and had lived most of his childhood and early adult life in the US.

Choi was compelled by his father's request to help him at Dai Lee Dai Pai Dong, ranked by Time Out in February as one of Hong Kong's top 12 dai pai dongs. "My dad wasn't the type of person to ask for help, so him asking me to return to Hong Kong meant a lot," he told Business Insider. "I felt that he had worked all his life for us, and I should return the favor if I can."

Upon moving back to Hong Kong, Choi's work hours shifted and stretched. He began working from 11 a.m. to 2 a.m., seven days a week. He would regularly clock 90-hour weeks.

Since his return to Hong Kong, Choi has been juggling several roles in the family business, from slinging woks in the kitchen and waiting tables to managing the marketing alongside his wife.

While he finds the work demanding, he says he now earns more than twice as much as he did as an accountant in the US. He's also happy for the chance to help his family business and contribute to preserving Hong Kong's heritage.

"Being a part of Hong Kong's dai pai dong tradition, I realize we can definitely raise awareness of vanishing establishments like us," Choi said.

Choi is running one of the few remaining dai pai dongs in Hong Kong

Dai pai dongs, renowned as one of Hong Kong's quintessential culinary customs, are food stalls equipped with sizzling woks, known as "wok hei," in a space where cooking and dining are all done outdoors.

But similar to Hong Kong's neon signs, dim sum carts, and hand-painted mahjong tiles, the dai pai dong experience is one more of the city's cultural icons facing extinction.

After World War II, the government in Hong Kong began granting licenses to families of deceased or disabled civil servants, allowing them to operate small street-side restaurants for a livelihood. However, complaints regarding noise, traffic, and hygiene prompted the government to stop issuing new licenses in 1956. In 1975, the first cooked food center was opened to introduce a more controlled and hygienic environment.

"The main reason for the gradual disappearance of dai pai dongs in Hong Kong is most likely related to policies: the government no longer issues new licenses, and those who own the remaining licenses cannot continue operating if no one takes over the business," Agnes Chee Yan-Wei, the author of "Vanishing Flavours of Cantonese Cuisine," told BI.

The number of dai pai dongs in all of Hong Kong has dwindled to just over 20, according to the Hong Kong Tourism Board. The government ceased issuing new licenses in the 1970s, and those still running are now only transferrable to family members.

Tiffany Leung, a food critic from HK's Top Restaurants, described dai pai dogs as ''one-of-a-kind" experiences. "It is upsetting to note that dai pai dongs could not keep up with the fast development pace of Hong Kong and are gradually being replaced by modern alternatives," she said.

At first, Choi's dad wasn't sold on him coming back to work in a food stall

Now, Choi's younger brother, Shawn Cai, who also moved back to Hong Kong from the US in 2022, and his grandfather, Law Chun Chuen, all work at the establishment. Choi said that while their stall has 20 to 25 employees, most of them are part-time and only work a couple of hours every day.

When it first opened in the 1980s, the business operated in an open-air setting, like a traditional dai pai dong. However, in 1996 it relocated to the second floor of a busy wet market in Sham Shui Po. Once one of Hong Kong's poorest districts, Sham Shui Po has evolved over the years, and in 2020, Time Out named it one of the top three coolest neighborhoods in the world.

There's a loyal following among the older generation

Signature dishes at Dai Lee Dai Pai Dong include the cumin garlic ribs, spiced with a blend of paprika, cumin, fennel, and garlic and then deep fried; a seasonal winter Mongolian lamb stew; and the braised white pepper pork hock, which they've been selling for almost 30 years.

"Due to our customers being mostly blue-collar workers, they want dishes that are hearty, affordable, and flavorful," said Choi. He said customers typically share several dishes as a group and spend around $13 to $19 per person in one sitting. He said this is considered on the low end for one of the world's most expensive cities.

Customers like Tony Lee, 58, are loyal. "We like coming here because you can be loud and obnoxious, and no one would look at you differently," he said, "Once we found this dai pai dong, we started meeting here twice a week."

Another customer, Mok Wah Ho, 67, said, "I like coming to dai pai dongs because the beers are cold, the food portions are big, and prices are very reasonable."

Choi's goal is to uphold the tradition

Choi is proud of their reputation. "Our stall has been a beloved fixture for years — my aspiration is to perpetuate this cherished legacy and uphold the tradition," he said.

However, challenges abound.

Choi has observed a staff shortage at many dia pai dongs, with fewer young people wanting to apply to jobs that require long hours. Employers are finding it hard to recruit amid Hong Kong's shrinking population and the city's minimum wage not keeping up with inflation, South China Morning Post reported last year.

Meanwhile, Choi's staff, who have worked with them for over a decade, are aging. Most of them are between 50 and 60, with a few members of the team already in their 70s.

"The intricate skills of managing our staff, maintaining vendor relations, and building customer relationships were things I had to learn on the fly during the early years of management," he said. "This was particularly difficult because I was younger and respect had to be earned."

He's hoping craft beer can help entice younger diners

In an effort to infuse fresh energy into the business, Choi has partnered with local beer breweries, such as Young Master Ale, to organize events and draw in a younger crowd. He's also collaborated with local tour companies to attract more tourists.

"Dai pai dongs are a crucial part of remembering and preserving Hong Kong's food history — when we eat at there we enjoy a taste of the past, and help ensure that Cantonese culinary culture continues into the future," Betty Richardson, a former food critic who moved from Shanghai to Hong Kong, told BI. "Once these dai pai dong are gone, they are gone forever."

"I believe places like dai pai dongs, representing grassroots culture, should coexist with high-end restaurants for two main reasons: first, to preserve traditional culture, and second, to diversify the economic structure so that there is space for different levels of the population to thrive," the author and food critic Chee said.

For all his success and pride in the family business, though, running the food stall is not Choi's ultimate goal.

He's gotten married since moving to Hong Kong and plans to move back to the US if he and his wife have kids. At that point, he says, the family legacy will be passed to different hands.

"I'm dedicated to upholding our family legacy, with my brother likely to carry it forward," he said.