Let’s walk through a typical day of eating for me in Nanjing.

Breakfast starts at 5am² and is usually at a xiao chi dian which is kind of like a dim sum stand with road-side aluminum furniture. Sketchy? Yes, a little. Delicious? Definitely. Luckily, I’m not someone with a sensitive stomach and I have never gotten sick from eating in China.

In the last four days, I’ve had quite a variety of breakfast items: plain steamed buns (man tou), veggie or pork-filling steamed buns (bao zi), glutinous rice buns (shao mai), fried dough sticks (you tiao), soy milk or tofu soup (dou jiang, dou nao), congee (xi fan).

Some xiao chi items can be repeated for lunch, such as steamed buns. Nanjing has the best xiao long bao in the country, many would argue.

Another Nanjing delicacy is yian shui ya (salted duck). Salted duck in Canada cannot compare, mostly because the duck used in Canada is factory-farmed, whereas the duck here are raised naturally, and therefore contains hardly any fat at all.

Although not a Nanjing specialty, I also got to try pumpkin congee, which tasted truly delicious and is certainly something that could be made in Canada, what with our abundance of pumpkin.

Dinner can range from anything, as far as entrees go. I’ve had clay-roasted free-range³ chicken, sweet and sour fish, five mushroom soup, wintermelon and egg stir-fry, five spices beef, spicy freshwater lobster, and so on. Last night, however, I had hot pot. Hot pot in 37-degree weather? I thought it was a joke, but apparently not.

I was taken to the best lamb hot pot in Nanjing. Lamb hot pot is not a Nanjing specialty, so this was as good as you were going to get in this city. I don’t like lamb and I’m not preferential to hotpot either, but last night’s dinner was damn good. Usually, I refuse to touch lamb unless it’s completely covered in spices, to eat lamb that’s only been boiled in water is unthinkable. But last night’s lamb did not have a gamey smell/taste, and tasted great with some spicy oil and sesame paste.

I am trying a lot of new foods that I used to refuse to eat as a child. Even my uncle commented how I was much better about eating new things; until now, I’ve been rather infamous in my family for my picky eating habits.
Perhaps it’s because our palate changes as we grow. But mostly, I think it’s a psychological change. Whereas I used to feel that I was not missing anything by refusing to eat certain foods, I now feel the exact opposite. It seems such a waste to go to a city and not try the local cuisine. Some things take a little getting used to, but in the end, I believe cultural adaptation is definitely worthwhile!

1. When I say ‘everything’, I’m mostly referring to all Chinese food.
2. Everyone gets up really early here because mid-day and early afternoon is too hot to function, so that’s usually nap-time.
3. Although what poultry isn’t free-range here?

The interior is modern and well-lit. The tables are quite close together but the semi-circle dividers give an illusion of spaciousness.

The menu was varied with bright, bold pictures of mouthwatering dishes. We started with a “dessert” as an appetizer, gui hua tang ou (steamed lotus root stuffed with sweet sticky rice).

This steamed dessert was soft and sticky with sugary juices, and the sweet glutinous rice complemented the slightly crispier lotus root. I have always wondered what dessert in Chinese culture really is, but now I know why I had such a hard time figuring it out. For most families, there is no distinction between courses, everything is set on the table pretty much at once. Sure, you have bigger dishes and smaller dishes, hot dishes and cold dishes, but the distinction is not as clear as in Western tradition. For example, here is a dessert that looks deceptively like an appetizer. Who would have thought of lotus root being a dessert? It comes down to a fundamental difference in technology: Chinese chefs don’t bake. Baking is very much a Western technology, and Canton baked desserts have been influenced that way. Traditional Chinese desserts are made much in the same way that all dishes are made, on the stove.

Next up was ban li shao ji (chicken with chestnuts stew).

This was every good as bit as it looks. Braised chicken with chestnuts is a common family dish in the Shanghai area. It’s an exceedingly simple recipe – just soy bean paste and salt – but the chestnuts add something very subtle and unique to the sauce.

The highlight of the evening, however, was the Shanghai special hot pot.

In this pot contained an elaborate combination of: dan jiao (pork in egg wrapper dumplings), pork in tofu wrapper, Lion’s Head meatballs, fen si (vermicelli), fish balls, dried ham (salted and air-dried as opposed to smoked) and various Chinese vegetables. It was glorious.

Another unique dish was belly pork in a fermented beancurd sauce. Fermented beancurd (or dou fu ru) is not as strange as it might sound. It is not pungent at all, instead it is very flavourful.

Belly pork is pork that has a lot of fat, and it is usually cut in big chunks with the skin still on it. Although this is probably not a dieter’s dream, the skin, fat, and meat goes really well together, especially in a dish like this that would need to be cooked for a long time until a lot of fat has melted into the sauce.

On the side, we also had a bowl of bok choy fried rice.

For dessert, we had lan gua bing (fried pumpkin pancakes).

They are made with glutinous flour and covered in sesame seeds, fried until golden brown. These were melt-in-your-mouth good, the best I’ve ever had.

Service could have been more attentive but no worse than a typical Chinese restaurant of this size. The prices are very reasonable (although a little higher than some of the other restaurants in Scarborough). There are a lot of unique, home-grown Shanghai dishes on the menu that I have not seen elsewhere. I would definitely come back, and next time, I’m bringing more people so I can try more dishes.

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