In any case – don’t be like them and make a fool of yourself. Four is actually French for oven, and the term petit four (or petits fours) a rather fancy way of referring to the tiny cakes and sweets typically served at the end of a long and winding meal.

Mango, passion fruit and sunflower petits fours from The Grand Hyatt Hong Kong. Photo: Grand Hyatt

Many trace the origin of the petit four to 19th-century France, when the bulk of cooking was done in large, coal-burning ovens made from stone or brick – rudimentary cabinets with a roaring fire beneath fierce enough to roast large cuts of meat and bake batches of bread. They were referred to as grand four, or large oven.

“Under these circumstances, temperature control was essentially non-existent,” explains a page on the Auguste Escoffier culinary school website. “As a result, French bakers had only two oven ‘settings’: blazing hot and cooling down.”

A selection of petit fours from Tate Dining Room in Hong Kong. Photo: Tate Dining Room

Once the fire was extinguished, it would take a considerable amount of time for the heat to dissipate; as it died down gradually throughout the day, the more gentle heat gave rise to the name petit four, or little oven.

Not wanting to waste this energy, chefs would make the most of the residual heat by baking small treats, designed to be tiny so they could cook through faster in the embers.

However, there is an alternative timeline. According to historian Betty Wason, author of Cooks, Gluttons and Gourmets: A History of Cookery (1962), Louis XIV, one of history’s most ravenous eaters, was said to be enchanted by the tiny cakes during his reign, from 1643 to 1715.

Strawberry cream cake and finger lime caviar petits fours from The Grand Hyatt Hong Kong. Photo: Grand Hyatt

Wason suggested that petits fours were first presented as part of the course of entremets (literally “between meats”), during a dinner hosted by the king, and arose from competition between his cooks to create something new and unexpected that would impress His Majesty.

“When a servant entered the dining hall carrying aloft on a platter a single tiny cake, hardly more than a mouthful, there were whispers that this was going too far – His Majesty would be insulted,” wrote Wason.

To the contrary – the king swallowed the cake in one bite, and showered praise upon its audacious creator: “Cousin, you are a man of rare courage, artistry and taste. We need you at court!”

Dark cherry profiterole and coulis petits fours from The Grand Hyatt Hong Kong. Photo: Grand Hyatt

Louis, ever the glutton, perhaps thought that if the treats were thrice as small, he could have thrice as much.

These days, such treats seem almost obligatory at smart restaurants. After multiple courses and desserts, just when you think you couldn’t fit in another mouthful, they arrive on their little jewel boxes and tiny pedestals to a chorus of coos, tempting you to take another bite.

It’s almost a shame that, more often than not, it comes at a point where diners are close to having their Mr Creosote moment, where even a wafer-thin mint might tip them over the edge.

Petits fours at Tate Dining Room are wheeled out in a custom-made Chinoiserie-styled cabinet designed by chef-owner Vicky Lau. Photo: Tate Dining Room

The miniature treats, often enjoyed in one or two bites, need to pack in a lot of complexity – not to mention a little universe of exciting, contrasting textures and flavours to make an impression in the briefest of moments.

Grosse’s creations focus on highlighting the true flavours of ingredients, such as in a cherry profiterole with coulis, or strawberry cream cake with little pops of acidity by way of finger lime.

Smita Grosse, executive pastry chef at the Grand Hyatt Hong Kong. Photo: Xiaomei Chen

“It can be complicated, but sometimes we use a maximum of three textures to make it easier and tastier, combining things like sponge, cream, crunch, biscuit, custard or fruit,” says Grosse. “As it is a one bite, it means it’s difficult to control the size, and very delicate. It has to be very precise if we shape it.”

Tell this to the next person on your table who dares guffaw, “What is this? A cake for ants?”

At some restaurants, the petits fours presentation becomes a show of its own, such as at Tate Dining Room, in Sheung Wan.
The petits fours presentation becomes a show of its own at Tate Dining Room. Photo: Tate Dining Room

“The aesthetic edible garden filled with mignardise temptations was originally served on a plate,” explains pastry chef Nocar Lo, referring to a 2014 iteration where tiny treats were placed on a Zen garden made from ground black sesame.

Since then, the experience has been upgraded to a custom-made Chinoiserie-style cabinet designed by chef-owner Vicky Lau and created by Laura Cheung, of home decor brand Lala Curio.

It is wheeled tableside, and lights up when the doors are opened. Inside, tiny cakes, truffles, jellies and marshmallows are arranged like jewellery showpieces.

Vicky Lau, head chef and owner of Tate Dining Room. Photo: Xiaomei Chen

“For me, how a meal begins is just as important to how it finishes,” says Lau. “The delicate petits fours sweets are the final expression of a highly constructed meal, a final note to the ending of a composition and it is always the most lasting memory for guests.”

Tate’s offerings skitter differing levels of decadence, sweetness level and structural complexity – from the dramatic lychee charcoal marshmallows and Chinese licorice lemon jellies to the mellow matcha and soy cream pâte à choux.

A hojicha rocher is a take on the hazelnut confectionery classic, its crunch amplified by rice puffs, which in turn complement the roasted-rice flavour of the tea chocolate.

The delight comes from guests being able to choose as many items as they like – whether it’s that magic number four, or more … should the desire strike.