When the sun goes down, the woks fire up along the streets of Shanghai’s night markets. See for yourself why no one can resist the temptations of the city’s diverse after dark delicacies. On this tour, we’ll head to two of the city’s liveliest night markets.

Our original dumplings tour, with a cooking class! For more than 2,000 years, Chinese chefs and home cooks have been perfecting dumplings in all their delicious bite-sized forms. Carried abroad by Silk Road travelers over the centuries, dumplings are popular around the world, but nothing tops the original!

Wake up with the city to taste the Chinese breakfast of champions. We’ll mingle with water calligraphers and tai chi masters, taste Chinese breakfast dishes made right in front of your eyes at local street stalls and learn the true meaning of fresh at a wet market.

Editor's note: The year is coming to an end, which means it's time for us to look back on all the great eating experiences we had in 2014 and name our favorites among them. Elixir Health Pot We used to ignore the steamy glass windows of Elixir Health Pot when we walked past. “Healthy is not how we take our hotpot,” we thought with our noses in the air, ignoring the sweet smell of ginseng and spicy aroma of chili peppers simmering in pork broth. Then a trusted foodie friend asked us if we’d tried their wulao meat. Another mentioned their collagen broth a week later…. So last winter, we gathered a crew of longtime hotpot fans and headed to the healthiest steamboat in town. Turns out it’s also the best all of us had ever had, and it’s now our warming go-to as soon as the temperature drops. Best not to think too hard about all the opportunities we missed over the years; we’re more than making up for it now.

Hairy crab season is once again sweeping Shanghai’s diners into a frenzy, with the bristly crustaceans popping up on street corners, in streetside wet markets and, most importantly, on dinner plates. This year we’ve even seen reports of elaborate live crab vending machines hitting the streets in Nanjing and an attempt to start a black-market trade in German crabs.

Shanghai offers a huge range of dining at every price point imaginable. Fortunately for us, cost is not necessarily commensurate with quality in this town; you don’t have to break the bank to eat well. In fact, some of our favorite eateries offer bargain set lunches. Mi Xiang Yuan Hidden down an alley, Mi Xiang Yuan, a Shanghainese joint owned by a local celebrity chef and his family, serves affordable set lunches that bring in the crowds. Try their marinated pork rice bowl (卤肉饭, lǔròu fàn) or "lion’s head meatballs" (蛤蜊牛蒡肉圆套餐, gélí niúbàng ròu yuán tàocān), and you’ll also get a side of soup, tofu and vegetables of the day plus a bowl of rice, all for less than 30 RMB ($5), no matter which benbang main you try. You can’t beat that price in the Xintiandi neighborhood.

Anyone looking for a bit of entertainment or foodie satisfaction while on a layover in Shanghai will need to look well beyond the confines of the airport. Pudong’s international airport may be a huge, mostly gleaming, modern space, but it has some of the most overpriced, bland food and off-brand shopping with little to do beyond making repeated attempts to connect to the free Wi-Fi.

Strict vegetarians in Shanghai face a double-edged sword when it comes to staying meat-free. On the one hand, the country’s large Buddhist population means they are in good company. It is estimated that the total number of vegetarians in China reached about 50 million last year. However, while tofu dishes can be found on just about every Chinese menu, that doesn’t mean that the dishes are strictly meat-free. To vegetarians’ dismay, pork and meat-based broths are often used to give the soy-based dishes more flavor, and special requests (even simple ones like “no meat”) are not usually complied with (or understood). Traditionally, meat is often sliced in very thin strips (肉丝, ròu sī) and used to flavor vegetable and tofu dishes, as opposed to being the star

A scenic highway wraps around the island city of Xiamen, allowing easy access to the mountainous interior and rocky coastline, but on the east coast the natural scenery gives way to man-made propaganda. Three-story-high characters facing the South China Sea dominate the skyline. As red as Mao’s Little Book, these towering characters proclaim “One Country, Two Systems, United China,” a stern reminder visible to the residents of Jinmen, a Taiwanese island less than 2 kilometers from the ancient port city’s shores. This sightline marks the shortest distance between the People’s Republic and the Republic, and while government policies may differ greatly depending on which side of the Taiwan Strait you call home, the food culture is remarkably similar.

It’s been more than half a century now since The Beatles formed, and their worldwide popularity continues unabated. In Japan especially, the band’s presence and influence were outsized almost from the beginning, and John Lennon’s marriage to Yoko Ono cemented the band’s place in Japanese culture.

North Korean cuisine is about as mysterious as it gets. Few travelers have ever actually been to the reclusive country, and news reports are more often about high-profile rescues and the dire food security situation than its national cuisine. Thanks to 10 North Korean restaurants in Beijing and 50 others scattered around Southeast Asia, those living in the Far East have plenty of opportunity to glimpse the country’s dining scene. Shanghai is home to seven branches of the Pyongyang restaurant chain, and food is only part of the draw. With a nightly show around 7:30 p.m., the song and dance numbers put on by the double-duty waitresses supposedly allow for a rare glimpse inside the traditional culture.

Dear Culinary Backstreets, My family is planning a trip to Shanghai. We want to dine like the locals but also make sure our little ones get their fill. Do you have any recommendations?

It’s been two weeks of cycling through China’s Qinghai province, and the food selection is slim. The majority of the province sits on the vast Tibetan Plateau, well above the tree line in conditions too harsh for significant cultivation. Yaks graze on well-trampled grass as far as the eye can see, with white yurts and colorful prayer flags dotting the hillsides and each summit pass. By Chinese standards, six million inhabitants in the country’s fourth-largest province make Qinghai practically deserted. For long stretches, only nomadic yak herders can be spotted between the tiny villages. Stopping for a roadside lunch in the small, isolated towns inevitably means a bowl of either mutton or yak chopped-noodle soup (羊肉面片, yángròu miàn piàn or 毛牛肉面片, máo niúròu miàn piàn). Served up in a tomato-chili broth, it’s a tasty meal, but repeated daily, it inevitably becomes tiresome. Additional ingredients sometimes includes julienned zucchini or green peppers, depending on the remoteness of the particular town and their staggered vegetable shipments. After just one week, we’re eagerly awaiting more fruitful pastures, and Sichuan province, located just to the east on our route, is a culinary paradise.

Editor’s note: This feature, by guest contributor Gizelle Lau – a Chinese-Canadian food and travel writer based in Toronto – is the first in an occasional series on “diaspora dining,” covering the best places to find our favorite cuisines outside of their places of origin. The history of Chinese in Canada – pioneers who left their native land in pursuit of a better life and future – is a familiar immigrant story.While the first record of Chinese in Canada dates back to the late 1700s, it wasn’t until the late 1800s and early 1900s that they began to arrive in greater numbers, establishing Chinatowns in cities such as Toronto and Vancouver and opening their own restaurants, grocery stores and laundromats. Despite exclusionary government policies that existed for many years, today Canada is home to one of the largest Asian populations outside of Asia, including over half a million Chinese in the Greater Toronto Area alone.

In 2008, Shanghai’s noodle scene was dealt a mighty blow. A Niang, a granny from the ancient seaport of Ningbo who was famous among local foodies for her seafood noodles, was forced to close her streetside shop after being diagnosed with kidney disease. Over the past few decades, she’d gained a loyal following; her friendly, wrinkled face was a common sight in the dining room, as she often wandered through the hordes of hungry diners to say hello to regulars or wipe up a splash of spilled soup.