Whether we’re heading to Sichuan province for a little culinary vacation or just looking for the best bowl of dan dan mian in the city, there’s one person we call for dining recommendations: Jenny Gao. Born in Chengdu and raised in Canada, Gao’s family still lives in Sichuan, and since moving to Shanghai in 2012, she visits them often. Over the past couple years, she’s turned her love for her hometown cuisine into a full-time job, becoming Shanghai’s unofficial Sichuan food ambassador. For years, Gao was the writer behind Jing Theory, a popular food blog about Shanghai’s best places to eat, drink and more.

In the past year, we’ve seen more new noodle houses hawking spicy Chengdu and Chongqing style noodles than we can count on two hands. Very few of the Shanghai-based noodle houses do the fly restaurants of Chengdu justice. Some dish out bowls of insipid strands that barely register on the Scoville scale, while others go for that unbalanced, burn-your-face-off flare that means the chef has likely never been to Sichuan, much less studied the careful art of the region’s balanced cooking. Liu Dao Men is among the exceptions, carefully walking the tightrope of spicy yet tasty, with its menu of Chengdu noodle classics.

The Michelin Guide might have come to Shanghai last year, but the far more interesting trend for budget diners in the city is the fast-casual local restaurants opened by savvy young Chinese with an eye for design and a great palate. The Noodlista is one such shop – just check out its logo. The character for noodles is warped into a downward facing arrow, as if to say, “Get your noodles here!” It’s good advice, and local millennials are taking it: come lunchtime, Noodlista is always packed to the gills with young worker bees from nearby office towers. Showcasing the management’s fluency with both Eastern and Western cultures, English and Chinese coexist happily on the menu.

When “A Bite of China” came out in 2012, it took China – and the rest of the foodie world – by storm. The beautifully shot documentary showed Chinese culinary artisans around the country, watching them pull whole lotus roots from the mud in Zhejiang and make steamed buns from millet in Shanxi. Yunnan cuisine in particular emerged a star, as the program showcased what makes that region’s diet unique in China: its rich landscape and the artisans who produce goat cheese, cure ham and forage for wild mushrooms. Gathering Clouds (Yunnan means “south of the clouds”) is owned by a young, Yunnan-born crew, some of whom cut their teeth in the Shanghai dining scene at Lost Heaven, the most famous and foreigner friendly of the Yunnan restaurants in town.

Shanghai's dining scene was abuzz with controversy this fall as the Michelin Guide landed in the city for the first time ever. You can't please everyone, but no one seemed happy with the disproportionate number of Cantonese restaurants that were recognized. Thankfully, there's still plenty of delicious variety in the city, starred or not, and we continued to chow down across the price and regional spectrum.  A Da Congyoubing After 34 years of making the cult favorite scallion oil pancake, Mr. Wu was shut down by the government in September for not having the proper licenses. Thanks to the serious outcry from the city’s foodies, the district government helped him expedite his licensing, and delivery start-up Ele.me found a new spot just a couple blocks from his apartment.

We’d just about given up on hotpot, what with last year’s scandals of rat meat parading as lamb and opiates mingling with the Sichuan peppercorn to give diners a real buzz. But 2014 has seen the trend of farm-to-table dining hit Shanghai in a big way, spurred on by these food safety concerns. The most recent entrant to the organic dining scene is the aptly named Holy Cow. More than just a phrase made famous by Chicago Cubs announcer Harry Caray, Holy Cow is a healthy hotpot restaurant specializing in – you guessed it – beef, plus vegetables sourced from owner Anthony Zhao’s family farm. Loyal CB eaters might remember Zhao from his Shanghainese lunch hotspot Mi Xiang Yuan.

When Wuyuan Bingjia first opened in 1936, it was one of many Shanghai-style bakeries around town, churning out trays of benbang dim sum dishes to be eaten on the go or taken home and enjoyed with the family. Now, as the city grows skyward and Shanghainese palates skew more international, these old-style bakeries are slowly dying out. Wuyuan Bingjia is one of the last ones standing, and it’s not thanks to the service. (Word to the wise: Be ready to order when you get to the cashier or you’ll get an earful from the waitstaff.)

Fun fact: More than 70 percent of the meat eaten in China is pork. And while stuffing yourself with xiaolongbao and hongshao rou is a must when eating in Shanghai, it can be nice to have a respite at halal restaurants like Miss Ali. Yan Ali, the owner and namesake of the restaurant, arrived in Shanghai from Xinjiang – China’s predominantly Muslim province in the country’s far northwest, where she previously hosted TV shows. Ali didn’t like the way her native cuisine was often represented in Shanghai – with waiters robed in garish “costumes” and performing songs and dances from their region – and decided to create a more accurate representation of the restaurants of Xinjiang.

[Editor's note: We're sorry to report that Harbin Dumplings has closed.] Walk along just about any street in Shanghai these days, and you’ll see an ever-encroaching range of Western brands, standardized brand signage and food franchises. As in other rapidly developing countries, the battle for consumer dollars and brand loyalty has meant more chains and mass-produced food. That’s partly what makes stepping into one of the several Liu Family Harbin Dumplings shops a breath of fresh air. Every morning until the lunch rush, the dining room and back rooms are set up with trays and workers dexterously making every dumpling from start to finish. Dumpling wrappers are meticulously hand-rolled, the fillings are mixed in large batches, and the time-consuming process of filling and closing the dumplings marches on until tray upon tray is ready for boiling.

When you’re in the capital of Sichuan province, snacking is a way of life. Noodles made of bracken, wheat, chickpeas, mung beans and more, as well as tofu puddings and dumplings, make up the city’s “small eats” (小吃, xiǎochī) scene, served from what’s colloquially known as “fly restaurants.” A step above street food, these family-owned eateries are so called because they attract diners like flies, despite what might seem like a less-than-hygienic atmosphere, because the food is too good to miss. Find a hole-in-the-wall that has more diners than stools, and order one of these local specialties for a delicious meal.

Dear Culinary Backstreets, I keep hearing buzz about “yangmei” season in Shanghai. What’s all the fuss about this fruit? What’s in a name? Shakespeare could just as easily have written, “A yángméi (杨梅) by any other name would taste as sweet.” This little red Asian fruit has a plethora of monikers: Myrica rubra, Chinese bayberry, yamamomo, Japanese bayberry, red bayberry and waxberry. But a decade ago, the sweet and sour fruit was rebranded as the yumberry in the United States (where it is sold in juice and powder form, but not fresh, due to an import ban on the live fruit) to stand out from other exotic “superfoods.”

When the nationalist Kuomintang army retreated to Taiwan in 1949 after losing to Mao’s communist forces, the island experienced a sudden influx of immigrants from around Mainland China, many ripped from their homeland and moved into crowded, hastily-assembled housing complexes. These gave rise to tenement communities, called military villages (眷村, juàncūn). During the years after the war, these new immigrants kept the memory of their hometowns alive, recreating the dishes of their childhood but – out of necessity – using local ingredients and adapting the recipes. Out of this homesickness arose a new type of Taiwanese cooking called Military Village Cuisine.

In & Out arrived in Beijing years ago to rave reviews, but the Yunnan restaurant only just settled in Shanghai, confusing homesick Californians with its name. Instead of Double-Double burgers and Animal-Style fries, it serves cross-the-bridge noodles (过桥米线, guòqiáo mǐxiàn) and fried potato balls (土豆球, tǔdòu qiú). While most Yunnan restaurants in China span the whole province’s cuisine, from tea leaf salads to crispy adzuki beans, In & Out’s menu is (mostly) specific to Lijiang, a city deemed a UNESCO heritage site that lies about halfway between Shangri-La and Kunming, the provincial capital, and is home to the Naxi and several other ethnic minorities

Healthy eating and Chinese food are often hard to combine, but Karen Chen has discovered the recipe. After the success of Jianguo 328 (a homestyle Shanghainese restaurant that forgoes MSG and uses filtered water to boil its excellent noodles), the Taiwanese restaurateur decided to look west – where spice is king – for her next venture: Yi Zhang Hong. The friendly Sichuan restaurant is cobbled together with a narrow staircase leading up to cheerful dining rooms over three floors. On each level, bright folk art hangs on white walls above long banquettes and blond wood tables, and the red-tiled bar on the first floor is decorated with bottles of imported wine and beer and canisters of local tea.

It was Mr. Liu’s huge grin that first caught our eye, welcoming us into his humble, living room-sized restaurant. Scanning the small space, we suspected we had hit upon a gem: white tile walls, basic stools, vegetables crammed into the fridges in the dining room and fiery red dishes dotting the tables of happy diners – all hallmarks of the down-to-earth eateries we’re always looking for. As we sat down and he started explaining his specialties, we could feel his genuine interest in having us taste his authentic Sichuanese cuisine, going well beyond just making another sale.