When he returned to his native Hong Kong in 2016 after university in England, Mr Christopher Ho brought back more than just a degree. During his time in the UK, he developed a passion for cooking and a particular Western-influenced style learnt from chefs such as Messrs Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay. Once home, he realised he had to adapt his new favourite recipes. “Coming back to Hong Kong, the same dish would cost double or triple the amount because ingredients were harder to procure and everything was imported,” he says.

On a mission to translate recipes from around the world and infuse them with elements of local culture and flavours, Ho embarked on a part-time career as home chef, while doing his day job in hospital management. The central ethos of his work is farm to table. He tries to use as many locally grown ingredients as possible, from meats and vegetables right down to the garnishes. “Most people assume that Hong Kong is quite an urban city,” he says. “They expect high-rise buildings and a fast pace of life, but we have an abundance of local produce.”

Produce-centric dining has always been a key pillar of Japanese cuisine, but it is less widespread in other parts of Asia where people generally prefer the ease of shopping in large supermarkets and favour imported products. “Using pork as an example, people used to want only Spanish Iberico pork, but obviously there are vast levels of quality,” says Ho. “Just because it’s from Spain doesn’t mean it’s good. Now people are realising that locally cultivated food can go toe to toe or even outmatch imported ingredients.”

As hyper-seasonal and locavore concepts became mainstays of the Western fine dining lexicon over the past two decades, Ho joined a new generation bringing the movement to Hong Kong’s culinary scene. He championed this approach while cooking with mentors, such as Mr Eric Räty, the Finnish chef who helms the Michelin-starred Arbor in Hong Kong, and Mr Eelke Plasmeijer of Locavore in Bali, and headlining sold-out pop-ups at Fireside and Test Kitchen. Each moment was documented on his Instagram account, @ho_la_ho_sik (Cantonese slang for “fucking good food”). “I started having bigger events just before Covid and things really started to take off during the pandemic when people started to care more about cooking,” he says. “It truly was by word of mouth.”

As the world came to a standstill, people in Hong Kong had the opportunity to reconnect with the nature on the island and this fostered an increased willingness to support smaller producers. New sustainable concepts such as Common Farms, an urban farm that sells vegetables and microgreens to leading restaurants in the city, have emerged and become valuable partners for Ho in his endeavours.

Ho also offers catering services as a private chef with menus designed specifically for each audience. One of his earliest examples was based on late-night drinking food and was inspired by fond memories of nights out with friends while at university. “I just refined it and turned it completely on its head, so it was a really personal touch between the food and the people,” he says. Navigating constantly changing pandemic restrictions, his home-catering service boasted a six-month waiting list before he eventually had to halt it.

For Ho, the most important gastronomic concept is balance – working with Western and Eastern flavours and fusing local traditions with contemporary inflections. When he collaborates with other chefs, he tries to harmonise his identity with their signature styles. “It’s about bouncing ideas and playing with what each person is comfortable with, trying to push each other,” he says. Throughout it all, he maintains a humorous element, often riffing off childhood nostalgia and employing a subversive high-low mix.

One of Ho’s most famous dishes, a matcha udon in cold soy milk broth topped with uni, is served in a cup noodles container. A standout dessert deconstructs the famous local drink, lemon tea, with tea-flavoured meringue and lemon curd. In Ho’s view, the concept behind a dish is more important than the plating and the optics. “The chef should tell a story throughout, about how and why they came up with each course and how they chose the produce, so it doesn’t just become people taking photos of the dishes,” he says. “It creates a much more holistic approach to how we should be viewing food.”

He cites one of his recent dishes, which was inspired by the city’s coastline and decorated with “sand”. “Because we’re not in Ibiza or the Maldives, we tried to make the sand feel a bit more gritty,” he says. “Everything else was based on local ingredients, such as prawns and fish skins.”

Asked which chefs he admires most, Ho names Mr Jeremy Chan of Ikoyi in London and Mr LG Han of Labyrinth in Singapore, both self-taught prodigies, like him, who run Michelin-starred kitchens aimed at challenging perceptions of what traditional cuisine can be. That these chefs at the top of their game have succeeded via similarly unconventional paths has encouraged Ho to help others pursue cooking seriously as a career.

“Most people know that I’m self-taught and they started contacting me as they cultivated their passion,” Ho says. “I take pride in the fact that I helped people take that next step.”

The day before we talk, Hong Kong announces the lifting of quarantine for all visitors and Ho is excited to start planning bigger events where he can share his cooking with more people. Although operating on the outside of the industry has certain drawbacks, he maintains that not being tied to a restaurant gives him more creative leeway.

“I don’t have that stress, to consistently outperform,” Ho says. “I’m allowed to organically come up with ideas and recipes. That’s when the originality comes, rather than shoehorning yourself into making something new all the time.”

As he looks forward to celebrating Lunar New Year with his family, he jokes that his “new age” cuisine won’t be served at the gathering. “My 98-year-old grandmother on one side is super-traditional,” he says. “Everything on that table is bound by convention and some sort of idiom.” (Among others, Cantonese customs during New Year celebrations involve eating prawns, a metaphor for laughing every day, and fish, which signifies abundance for the year ahead.)

On the other side of his family, however, “My grandmother is as international as it comes,” Ho says. “So what we eat is a mish-mash of styles, because that’s very much her identity as well.”

Ho’s culinary approach reflects these personal experiences. With a full-time transition into the culinary industry in the works, he is still crafting the concept behind his next move. The details remain in flux, but one thing is certain. Interaction with the diners will form the crux of the experience.

“Having gone through this weird mid-point of being both a consumer and a chef, I have a lot of stories to tell and to share,” Ho says. “So the idea of having a chef’s table and being able to communicate is very important for me.”