HFC

I was wrong when I said you couldn't get much street food in Harbin. To my delight, there's plenty to be had, if you know where to look, but stalls pop up at odd times and odd days only to disappear, leaving nothing more than a heap of eggshells, a ditch full of wooden skewers, or a pile of paper wrapping.

These guys run an efficient operation just outside my flat. In the corner you can see piles of splayed-out chickens which have been bread-crumbed and semi-cooked. For 2.5RMB (12p) boss-lady will smack one up with a chunky cleaver, and boss-man throws it in a wok of oil to crisp up before scooping it back into a metal bowl. Boss-lady then sprinkles it with three different types of delicious flavourings out of those isotonic drinks bottles you can see and tips the whole thing into a plastic bag.

Despite the massive parasol, the weather was pissing on these poor guys. Snow flakes swirled in sideways and sizzled into the wok, while at the front the chicken was getting a decent frosting.

I munched on mine while checking out the other stalls, the crunchiness of the fresh snow underfoot, complementing nicely the crunchiness of the piping hot, spicy chicken.