JING THEORY

As a four year old in Guanghan, Sichuan,  I loved waking up to xiaolongbaos on the breakfast table. These were a special treat picked up down the street from a man with bamboo baskets piled high on his cart, steam hissing from the lids every morning at the crack of dawn. The tiny buns wrapped around lean, seasoned pork meat were not the kind that oozed soup, and I was unaware that a whole other world of xiaolongbaos existed until my high school years at a restaurant on Canal Street in New York.

I had spent most of my formative years before that point moving with my parents across most of Europe, each country more hopeless than the last at offering the Chinese foods I missed. My father worked in Manhattan’s financial district, and we liked to go to a Shanghai noodle shop in nearby Chinatown. There I had my first taste of the now ubiquitous soup-filled xiaolongbao. It was not spectacular but enjoyable, and it stayed with me.

In College I was introduced to the fantastic foodcosms of North Toronto’s Chinese immigrant community through an ex-boyfriend whose family never dined at home. This was a departure from my family meals that were almost always from my mother’s collection of Jiangzhe and Sichuan recipes that over the years have evolved into something uniquely her own.  I was seduced by flavours of various regional Chinese cuisines, all found within carpark of each other in tacky lit-up suburban strip malls. My favourite was the Markham branch of Taiwanese chain DinTaiFung, located in an unassuming corner of an outlet mall, but guaranteeing a lengthy wait to be seated. Most well known for continuously riding a 1997 Times accolade for Top Ten restaurants in the world, its numerous chains around the world serve a gold standard of soup dumplings, delivering it consistently and unfailingly. Each bite was like uncovering the layers of a fascinating story to me, woven by an army of white hats behind the kitchen glass. I was enchanted.

I spent my last year of college in Beijing studying the nuances of Chinese cuisine and moved to Shanghai for the summer to continue said journey. My previous tryst with DTF was a mere flirtation compared to what came next. I faithfully acquainted myself with basket after basket of xiaolongbaos, in traditional establishments with sub zero atmosphere and mod eateries with gimmicky claims to fame. I found chefs- mostly young teen girls- with fingers more nimble than the masters at DTF, rich pork and crab infused soup bursting with umami, baos steamed to order and delivered to the table with as little pretentiousness as its setting.  The love affair carried on to present day, partly to blame for my move to Shanghai earlier this year. I just couldn’t stay away.

It would be a shame if the calories I consumed were solely for my own benefit- and waistline,  so I will attempt to give a rundown of the essential xiaolongbao tour through Shanghai. Hopefully the writing and photos will help guide first time visitors through the City of XLB. I always knew I was gorging myself for the greater good.

1. Jia Jia Tang Bao (Huanghe Lu at Fengyang Lu)

There’s not much fault you can find in Jia Jia’s XLB, no matter how you nitpick. Its perennially busy location on Huanghe Lu near People Square means that the whole world agrees, and long lineups snake out the door starting early in the morning. But as ingredients deplete, the menu narrows and doors close for the day, so make this your first stop. Order a basket of twelve pork XLB for 9RMB or crab roe/pork for 22.5RMB, don’t forget the essential sliced ginger for an extra 1RMB, and as Gary Soup reminds me- obligatory bottles of ice cold Suntory. Be prepared to wait about ten minutes, watching as adolescent hands wrap your XLB to order.

Pictured are the pork XLB, although crab roe are also standout. The flavour of meat and soup are rich and the dumpling skin thin and delicate, but I have qualms with the occasional sloppiness of wrapping, as evident in Fig 1 above. There is an art to the process of creating xiaolongbao that I love, and I look for that integrity along with flavour, regardless of price.

2. Xiao Yang Shen Jian (Across the street from Jia Jia Tang Bao)

This is the odd one out in the xiaolongbao post, but since you’re already at JJTB, you should walk across the street and get an order of the famous local snack that is like the bastard brother to the XLB. Rougher around the edges, these dough on these buns are thick and bread-like, fried in a large cast iron pan, marinaded in its own juices, and sprinkled with sesame and scallions before being served piping hot to the line of hungry patrons. Be prepared to wait for about ten minutes outside its open-air kitchen, watching as skinny teenage boys rotate the iron pan on its edges, coating the perfect rows of pork buns evenly with its own juices. It is tempting to devour it piping hot, but be careful as your tongue, shirt and shoes are at the mercy of the scalding broth inside. Like the XLB, shenjianbaos are another perfect food, and I know many who prefer it to the former. Its a personal thing, but I know where my loyalties lie.

3. Fu Chun (650 Yuyuan Lu at Zhenning Lu)

Legendary favorite, Fuchun is large at two floors and constantly packed with people snacking on its large menu of items including noodles and xiaolongbao. Its XLB are the way Shanghainese claim to prefer them, a little thicker skin, less soup and meatier filling. Other forms like at Jiajia, DTF etc are referred to as Nanxiang XLB after the town outside Shanghai of their origin. Recently awarded Shanghai’s best XLB by CNNGo’s roster of food experts including Shanghai food legends “食神” Jiang Liyang, Shen Hongfei and restaurant consultant/chef Anthony Zhao, Fuchun proves that doing something well and consistently pays off. Pork XLB 5RMB for six.

4. Simon’s Test Kitchen (561 Anyuan Lu at Jiaozhou Lu)

Ivey League grads and ex-bankers wanting to dabble in food entered the business after convincing DTF chefs to jump ship bringing along their trade secrets. The small two-level restaurant is modern, light and airy, and menu items include noodles, a small selection of apps like cold 木耳 salad, 四喜烤麸, and XLB coloured with all sorts of vegetable juices as a twist. On the first visit, my taste buds were soured by the aforementioned appetizers, which were refrigerated and perhaps a day old when they were served to me. I hope readers have better luck but wouldn’t recommend trying. The jewel coloured wrappers add nothing to flavour but are thin and pleated with care, holding large chunks of meat but not enough soup. Other copycat items include steamed vegetarian dumplings and roast beef noodle soup. At prices 2/3 lower, you can’t shake the feeling it is just a poor man’s DTF, you can go much cheaper for better XLB or just shell out a bit more for the real thing in say, the classy XinTiandi branch of DTF. Anyuan Lu is also a bit inconvenient to get to, unless you’re already snacking at the Friday Muslim Market nearby. So verdict is skip, but I thought I’d address it here since so many publications seem to be (for reasons unknown to me) touting its merits.

5. Shang Wei Guan Nanxiang Xiaolong (Several locations, all sort of a pain to get to)

This chain is the highest rated XLB joint on Dianping for flavour at a whopping 26, and 800+ people can’t be wrong. Locations are out of the way for most Puxi expats and tourists, but are quite peaceful in their residential settings. I cabbed to the Xingshan Lu branch and instantly liked it. First of all it is big, a nice departure from other XLB eateries downtown where prime real estate is costly. Second, the diners filing in and out are neighbourhood residents picking up baskets to go for their dinners, parents bringing their children for a snack after school, and cab drivers stopping for a bite. The atmosphere is tourist free, homey, and comfortable. I could see my grandmother picking these up for breakfast. A basket of pork is 5RMB and shrimp/pork is 9RMB. You wait at the kitchen counter, watching as they steam your basket to order. While I was there, most people ordered shrimp/pork, with the other popular item being mini wonton soup.   The shrimp/pork mixture blended well together, soup was less rich and complex, and the wrapper was thicker and more glutinous than others I’ve had. But the merit in these are that they are fuss-free and homey, like its setting.

Happy eating, and do feedback your experiences!