Like every good love story, mine starts with infatuation.
I arrived in Shanghai in 2015 with an 18-month contract in hand. I saw the city as a temporary blip on my life’s radar, a flirtation with a new fate, but nothing serious.
I saw this as a personal sabbatical — an opportunity to travel abroad. My plan was to upgrade my Chinese vocabulary beyond ni hao, and — most importantly — taste some real Chinese food, not the Americanized General Tso’s chicken in white takeout pails I had grown up on, often accompanied by a crushed fortune cookie prophesying that “an exciting opportunity lies ahead.”
As a self-proclaimed epicure, I did a lot of research before arriving. I consumed every English-language China blog, every Shanghai food influencer’s Instagram post, and every cuisine-focused WeChat account as if it were the city’s street food itself.
I could practically taste the soup dumplings and smell the scallion pancakes sizzling in hot oil long before I ever traipsed through Shanghai’s backstreets.
I came in with a chip (read: fried wonton crisp) on my shoulder, assuming I knew it all. But I soon realized there was an entire subset of local Shanghainese cuisine I had overlooked.
These weren’t dishes found on the street, but in people’s home kitchens, shared around tables with close friends and relatives, often accompanied by baijiu-fueled laughter — baijiu being China’s most commonly consumed distilled spirit.
Benbang cai is Shanghai’s traditional home-style cuisine, built around braising, stir-frying, and steaming seasonal ingredients from the Yangtze River Delta, along with a liberal use of oil and sugar. It differs from modern Shanghainese food, which reflects a broader mix of global influences shaped by the city’s history as a trading port.
These are three dishes I discovered that tourists often overlook when visiting Shanghai, but shouldn’t.
That fortune cookie was right. The exciting opportunity lying ahead in 2015 has since evolved into a committed relationship with the city I proudly call home.
1. Kaofu — braised wheat gluten
At first, I avoided kaofu like the plague.
It’s made from gluten — an ingredient many Americans now avoid — which made me wonder: How did the Shanghainese turn it into an entire dish?
But the elastic mass left over after washing wheat flour dough is said to be high in protein and low in fat, and to be fermented in a way that supports gut health.
Cut into cubes, the braised wheat gluten is doused in a sticky soy sauce tossed with wood ear mushrooms, peanuts, and bamboo shoots. Like a sponge, the gluten absorbs the sauce, lending a deep sweetness to every moreish morsel, and securing its position as a staple in traditional restaurants and home kitchens throughout the city.
2. Youbaoxia — fried shrimp
Translated as “oil-exploded shrimp,” youbaoxia features whole, shell-on river shrimp flash-fried in a searing, oil-lined wok until crispy.
The shrimp are then stir-fried in a simple reduction of aged black vinegar, Shaoxing wine, sugar, and sesame oil, which coats every crevice of the crustacean in a glossy glaze. Some permutation of scallions, garlic, and ginger is often thrown in the mix, the Chinese holy trinity of cooking.
Youbaoxia is rarely found outside Shanghai and Zhejiang Province, as it traces its roots to the watertowns of Jiangnan, where seafood — like hairy crab, eel, and river fish — is a major component of the region’s cuisine.
The shells and heads are customarily left on to preserve the balance of oceanic umami and the seafood’s natural sweetness. Youbaoxia is best double-fried to lock in that sugary sheen and deliver a bold crunch.
3. Douhua — silken tofu
Unlike the sweet renditions of douhua, or tofu pudding, found all around China, Shanghai’s douhua is conventionally eaten only for breakfast and in a savory format.
Dribbled with aged vinegar, soy sauce, and chili oil, a bowl is rounded out by a fistful of chopped scallions and cilantro. More elaborate versions arrive tableside, topped with pickled mustard tubers, crushed peanuts, dried shrimp, and fried mung beans.
The name translates to “tofu bloom.” Hot, fresh soymilk coagulates with cornstarch and calcium sulfate, giving the dish its signature silken texture. Before it’s pressed into the firm tofu found in supermarkets, the whey-surrounded curds “blossom,” absorbing the flavors and textures around them.
Ladled out warm and luscious, this trembly soy milk custard is delicate, mild, and earthy, enhanced by umami-rich accompaniments. The quintessential pairing, a fried youtiao —orChinese cruller — acts as ideal dipping fodder.
Read the original article on Business Insider
The post I’ve lived in Shanghai for 10 years. Tourists often overlook these 3 local dishes. appeared first on Business Insider.
