People in Hong Kong will tell you that autumn isn’t what it used to be. They remember wearing jumpers at Mid-Autumn Festival; today, the weather decrees that they dress in shorts and t-shirts. But even if the summer heat lingers longer, there’s one sign of autumn that never changes: the aroma of charcoal.

It starts around early October, wafting through the streets up to open windows. It never takes long to find the source. Every year, for the six months the muggy heat subsides, itinerant hawkers roast sweet potatoes, chestnuts and quail eggs over charcoal, selling them in paper bags that are eagerly ripped open by schoolchildren and office workers alike.

The charcoal roasters used to have plenty of company. Fishballs, pork intestines, fried tofu, gai dan zai (‘little chicken egg’ waffles), crunchy dragon’s beard sweets made from pulled sugar and peanuts – they were all treats you could find on Hong Kong’s streets.