Any Shanghai denizen who has lived in the city for longer than a few months worships at the altar of xiǎolóngbāo (小笼包). These steamed buns of goodness – tiny pork dumplings with a slurp of soup wrapped up in a wonton wrapper – provide delicious fodder for debates among Shanghai’s fiercest foodies.

Almost every Chinese holiday comes paired with a festive dish. At Tomb-Sweeping Festival, there are bright green qingtuan (glutinous rice dumplings) to celebrate the arrival of spring. During Dragon Boat festival, we have zongzi, stuffed sticky rice steamed in bamboo leaves, to commemorate the poet Qu Yuan. And during Mid-Autumn Festival, we chow down on mooncakes as we gaze at the full moon. But Chinese New Year doesn’t come with just one dish. It is a feast that lasts for days, starting with “bao”-ing or wrapping dumplings on Chinese New Year’s Eve (for snacking on well into the night) to the tangyuan (more glutinous rice dumplings) eaten 15 days later on Yuanxiao or Lantern Festival.

For the first time in 14 years, I have not left China for an entire calendar year – actually 620 days, but who’s counting? It’s a weird feeling, and one that makes me more than a little sad, so I’ve been trying to make up for it by eating delicious food as often as possible. Luckily, Shanghai was spared the brunt of the pandemic. The shutdown was never an official lockdown in China’s financial capital, although very few restaurants were given official permission to offer in-person in early 2020. Shanghai didn’t shut down in 2021 either, and while some restaurants went bankrupt, the pandemic pushed other great local spots into offering delivery services when they never had before.

Looking for the best Shanghai-style noodles, for the city’s most slurpable strands? From hairy crab specialists to the sesame sauce of your dreams, there’s something for everyone. Come prepared to chow down, but don’t forget there’ll be a wait at most of these joints. Reservations are not available for these mom-and-pop owned shops, and demand for these nostalgic flavors is high, especially during the breakfast and lunch rush.

Historically, Guizhou is one of China’s most overlooked provinces. The landlocked location in central China is sandwiched between the famous spice havens of Sichuan and Chongqing to the north and Hunan to the East, and tucked behind the tourist destination of Yunnan to the west. It has the largest population of people in poverty and lowest income per person in China, and the geography of the province has made it tough to travel around; mountainous roads and lack of infrastructure don’t make for easy tourism. Its biggest claim to fame has been Kweichow Moutai (Wade-Giles Romanization of Guizhou Maotai), the famous state-owned baijiu brand served to Richard Nixon when he met Mao Zedong.

In Shanghai, it’s not uncommon to see a queue for what can often turn out to be mediocre food. Restaurants, street food stands and milk tea stalls will even go so far as to hire “yellow bulls” (scalpers) to line up and create buzz for their products. So, it was with some suspicion we took notice of a line of people for weeks on end outside a community center around lunchtime. Curiosity got the best of us, and we discovered the hottest table in town: a subsidized canteen for elderly residents of the neighborhood – inside a heritage garden villa, no less. In 1932, 66 Wutong Yard was as a parsonage for the Shanghai Community Church priests that was designed by the city’s most famous art deco architect, Lazlo Hudec.

Non-descript is the best way to describe Xiaoping Fandian’s storefront. Its plain-Jane décor would never make you stop and take notice – the first floor looks more like a hotel check-in than a restaurant – but walk by around any meal time, and the scrum of waiting diners speaking in rapid-fire Shanghainese will turn your head. Where there are this many speakers of the local dialect, there’s bound to be delicious local food. Upstairs, you’ll discover that Xiaoping Fandian is a multi-level home with former bedrooms and an attic space that have been converted into private dining rooms with lazy Susans. A few smaller tables are scattered in the hallway and living room for good measure.

We recently spoke to Betty Liu about her new cookbook, My Shanghai (Harper Design, March 2021), which spotlights the home-style Shanghainese food she grew up eating. Organized by season, this handsome volume takes readers through a year in the Shanghai culinary calendar, with flavorful, deeply personal recipes that are daily fare for Betty and her family. It also provides a thorough introduction to the ingredients at the heart of the region’s cuisine and illuminates the area’s diverse communities and their food rituals. Betty has been sharing recipes since 2015 on her award-winning blog bettysliu.com and worked as a food photographer – her talent is on display in My Shanghai, for which she did the styling and photography.

The loss of the world’s first baijiu-themed bar, Beijing’s Capital Spirits, to hutong landlord issues last year refocused the spirit’s lens on Shanghai, where bars are incorporating the grain alcohol into their drinks program. Baijiu may be the most-consumed spirit in the world – thanks mostly to China’s massive population – but its name has only recently started to make waves outside the country. This growing recognition is in part thanks to the trend of mixing baijiu into cocktails. At Healer Bar, this blending of Eastern flavors with Western drinking culture is a deliberate choice that is meant to educate as well as inebriate.

Over the past five years, the Chinese government-led campaign to close down street food vendors and small hole-in-the-wall shops has been extremely successful. But the Covid pandemic has led China’s residents to push back. When Premier Li Keqiang praised Chengdu’s “street vendor economy” for generating 100,000 jobs after the pandemic had peaked in the foodie mecca, Shanghai locals celebrated, hoping that their favorite roving street food stalls would once again find a place on the city’s streets. While there have been more and more sightings of vendors stir-frying rice noodles in portable woks on sidewalks around the city over the past few months, the Shanghai government has made it clear that most of the new vendors will be more in the style of fancy food trucks serving Western dishes.

At Tai Er Suan Cai Yu (Tai Er Chinese Sauerkraut Fish), there are four rules: 1. You can only have four people max at one table at a time, and no latecomers will be seated. 2. No baby chairs allowed. 3. They will not adjust the spiciness level. 4. No takeout (although this restriction has been lifted during the pandemic). Take into account these restrictions, and also the fact that queues of diners can mean a wait of close to one hour during peak mealtimes, and you wonder why anyone would go to this restaurant. In reality, Tai Er is one of China’s biggest domestic success stories with over six million fans on WeChat and Weibo (China’s Facebook and Twitter equivalents) and 120 locations throughout China.

Over the past decade, it’s become increasingly difficult to find mom-and-pop-owned restaurants that serve Shanghainese classics. The local homestyle cuisine, a sub-brand of Shanghainese known as 本帮菜 (benbangcai), is often elevated and served in fine-dining environments, thanks to the city’s place as the economic capital of the country and the wealthy Shanghainese who benefit from their hometown’s prosperity. But occasionally you can still discover new hidden gems tucked away down the city’s backstreets. So when we hear about a spot we haven’t tried before, we are all ears. Like when our coworker Kelvin Ip told us about his favorite Shanghainese hole-in-the-wall just a couple blocks from the Bund.

We’ve been fans of the authentically spicy flavors of La Wei Xian since 2014, when we added the ramshackle restaurant to our Night Eats tour route in the Laoximen neighborhood. The stop was a favorite of our guests for years, but in August 2017, Mr. Liu fell victim to the redevelopment of the Old Town area and was forced to shut down his shop when the local government wouldn’t renew his food and beverage licenses. But Mr. Liu has never been one to give up, and he’s always got his eye on the bottom line. He is the type of guy who will spend hours trying to convince you to go on a four-day road trip with his whole family (totaling six members) back to his hometown of Zigong, Sichuan, in a Winnebago that is meant for two at best, just to split the gas money.

Domestic tourism is back on the menu in China, as new daily cases of Covid-19 drop to single digits across the country. Earlier this month, China’s Tourism Research Center reached out to the newly unlocked-down to see what their top domestic destination was for 2020, and Chinese travelers chose Wuhan as their number one spot. While the epicenter of the virus outbreak might seem like an unlikely travel destination, Chinese netizens are rallying around the city, citing a desire to help it rebound economically as the main reason for choosing Wuhan. It’s the natural extension to the cries of “Wuhan jiayou!” heard round the country during the worst moments of the pandemic here.

It’s 9 p.m. at Fu Chun Xiao Long, and the waitress taps me on the shoulder to let me know they’re about to close. The Shanghainese snack shop has been serving up xiaolongbao (soup dumplings) and paigu niangao (deep-fried pork cutlets and rice cakes in gravy) until midnight for decades. But in the post-Covid-19 world, they shut their doors earlier, knowing that late-night business won’t be at the same level as it was last year, or even the last 10 years. Early closures aren’t the only changes to Shanghai’s dining scene. Most local restaurants have signs up requiring masks for entrance, despite the fact that the local government deemed them unnecessary several weeks ago. (We take them off to eat, of course.)