From a country that maintains a “national strategic pork reserve” – vast bunkers of frozen meat that can be released when the price of the commodity gets too high – one might not expect to find an impressive number of traditional vegetarian restaurants, but you’d be surprised. While exact numbers are hard to pin down in China, it is thought that around 20 percent of the Chinese consider themselves Buddhist, a number that tops out at around 280 million people. In culinary terms, that translates to hundreds of millions of would-be vegetarians – though, as in any religion, devotees interpret tenets at will, and most “vegetarians” in China enjoy a sprinkling of pork in their tofu to “add flavor.”

There is literally nothing like a bowl of steaming má là tang (麻辣烫) when Shanghai’s wet, cold winter sets in. In English, it translates to “mouth-numbing spicy soup,” and if that weren’t indication enough that it will get your sinuses going, then the fire-engine-red broth certainly is.

Earlier in 2012, Jing’an Villas – a square, block-sized 1930s-era housing area in the heart of downtown Shanghai – survived an ironic plan that called for permanently relocating all of its 3,000-plus residents in order to better “preserve” the historic neighborhood. Luckily, the plan was shot down in a party committee meeting. For now, at least, Jing’an Villas remains the perfect setting for trying longtang cai, simple, home-style alleyway food that features local favorites.

Is there anything that warms the heart of a food-obsessed traveler more than civic pride in a local culinary specialty? In a country that more often celebrates a particularly polarizing political leader, the great affection among the people of Lanzhou for their famous noodles – which the city has reportedly even sought to trademark – gets our stomachs rumbling.

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. “Do you hear that?” asked Sean Roberts, an expert on Uighur culture and politics and our dining companion for the day. “They’re making the lagman.”

Does anyone say “use your noodle” anymore? Our grandparents used to admonish us with that idiom when we didn’t think a situation through, but the phrase seems to have mostly gone out of fashion along with polyester suits. However, deep in the former French Concession, one esteemed food vendor is definitely using her noodle to help her customers enjoy, well, noodles.

Dining like a local in Shanghai often requires a small leap of faith. You have to forget about ambience and brave tough crowds with even tougher elbows to join the raucous, slurping masses with their steamers of the city’s famous soup dumplings, xiǎolóngbāo. Even with its thriving economy and sky-high construction boom, Shanghai still has a street food culture that is deliciously cheap and easy to find. To become a part of the appetizing fun, just look one street off the main road or wander into the city’s disappearing lilong (里弄, alleyways), which more often than not are teeming with Chinese pancake hawkers, wonton shops or makeshift grills emitting the smoky aroma of charred lamb kebabs.