Editor’s note: We regret to report that Apo’s Seafood has closed.
Cantonese seafood restaurants are almost always stuffy dining institutions, with gilded menus listing astronomically priced shark’s fin soup and braised abalone in private dining rooms with gaudy chandeliers. Like a rebellious younger sibling, Apo’s Seafood has taken the marine Canto theme down a road more graffitied, democratizing the experience by scrapping the stuffiness and serving up affordable, delicious fare from the ocean.
Cutesy knickknacks, like a collection of multicolored mugs and a rainbow of Nike trainers, fill up cabinets in the dining room. Along the wall that makes up the bulk of the two-tiered space is a hand-painted English map of Shanghai’s downtown, with Apo’s location smack dab in the middle, sandwiched between the Four Seasons Hotel and the Shanghai Exhibition Center. This is about the only English you’ll get here, although there is a Chinese picture menu for some dishes and the lone stained cardboard English page that has seen better days.
The lunch rush is as slammed as the phrase suggests, thanks in part to the restaurant’s cheap menu sets. Preserved Chinese greens and chunks of watermelon serve as appetizers, and the main course is served with a hefty bowl of rice with leaves of bok choy. Choose from a list of about 20 dishes, including a deliciously flaky whole perch (剁椒梅菜蒸鲈鱼, duòjiāo méicài zhēng lúyú) steamed with preserved vegetables, earthy fermented black beans, shredded peppers and crushed cherry tomatoes. They do fish proud here, but the meat is worth a look too. Try Cantonese classics like the sweet roasted pork with honey (蜜汁叉烧, mìzhīchāshāo) or the meaty white cut chicken (白切鸡, báiqiējī), served on the bone in its own essence. The best part about the sets? Not a single one costs more than 45 RMB.
At dinnertime, the tables are dominated by more of the roasted seafood, like scallops (扇贝, shànbèi) and oysters (蚝, háo) on the half shell and topped with cheese, vermicelli noodles, garlic and XO sauce or fermented black bean paste. Steaming claypot dishes stuffed with cauliflower (煲仔有机花, bāozǎi yǒujī huācài) or cabbage (手撕包菜, shǒusī bāocài) are delivered to most tables, as are porcelain wells of seafood congee (海鲜粥, hǎixiān zhōu) brimming with crab claws and plump shrimp.
Open until midnight, this tiny eatery is a hot spot for young Chinese diners to meet and socialize. Since the final bill rarely goes over 100 RMB per person, it’s a night out that millennial office workers can afford – and the hipster-cool atmosphere means that it’s the perfect place for foodie selfies, a generational must.
Published on July 25, 2014