The perfect xiaolongbao requires attention to detail in both the filling and the casing. The filling must be firm when cold so that the chef can work with it, yet gelatinous enough to turn soupy when steamed. Meanwhile, the casing must be thin enough for the bun to be delicate, but thick enough that it does not break apart when picked up with chopsticks. Get these two elements right and you have a xiaolongbao that bursts in the mouth in a succulent explosion.
Surprisingly, good xiaolongbao are hard to find in Shanghai. The two main sins are tough, thick casings, and starchy, flavorless, dry fillings. Furthermore, although xiaolongbao are traditionally eaten with ginger infused vinegar, many restaurants simply offer standard vinegar. Last Sunday your intrepid reviewer led a slightly less intrepid companion in search of Shanghai's ultimate xiaolongbao.
Many Shanghainese will tell you that the best xiaolongbao are to be found at Nanxiang Mantou Dian (南翔馒头店) located in the touristy Yuyuan Market near Chenghuang Miao (城隍庙). However, I find the Nanxiang Mantou Dian version rather nasty, with thick skins and a starchy filling. Last time I tried their crab xiaolongbao there was not a trace of crab! Avoid this restaurant. Perhaps it was good once, but tourism has since killed it.
Instead we decided to check out the xiaolongbao at two restaurants: Ding Tai Feng (鼎泰丰), or Din Tai Fung in the Taiwanese Romanization system used by the restaurant itself, and Jiajia Tangbao (佳家汤包). Ding Tai Feng was a controversial choice. The restaurant originates from Taipei, and many locals had assured me that the Taiwanese know nothing about making good xiaolongbao. However, the Ding Tai Feng xiaolongbao are internationally famous, and the New York Times listed it among the ten best restaurants in the world back in 1993. Having eaten at Ding Tai Feng in Taipei I was confident they could deliver the goods. Jiajia Tangbao, our second choice, was decidedly local, being the top pick of a Shanghainese friend.
Our first stop was Ding Tai Feng, located under the Alexander Health Club in the south block of Xintiandi. This place is popular and at peak times there can be a queue to get in. We dropped past on a Sunday afternoon when it was relatively quiet. The door was fairly typical for an upscale Shanghainese eatery, with an airy modern look, plenty of glass and stainless steel, and a few Chinese details. The cartoons of Chinese movie stars on the walls are a nice touch. See how many you recognize while you wait for your food to arrive. I did not do very well at this game.
The menu covers just two pages and focuses on simple snacks. This is basically street food in a high class setting. There are three varieties of xiaolongbao, sold by the basket and called, in English: steamed pork buns (38 RMB for 10 pieces), steamed crab roe meat and pork buns (58 RMB for 10 pieces), and steamed mini pork buns with soup (58 RMB for 20 pieces). Besides xiaolongbao there are various wontons, noodles, sticky rice snacks, cold dishes, and so on.
We ordered one basket of each of the three types of xiaolongbao, a bowl of beef noodles (红烧牛肉面, hongshao niurou mian), and sticky rice wrapped in bamboo leaves with pork (鲜肉粽子, xian rou zongzi). I had a Heineken and my companion a coconut juice.
The xiaolongbao did not disappoint. All three varieties had beautifully thin skins and succulent fillings. The crab meat version was stuffed with plenty of crab. My favorite was the steamed mini pork buns with soup. This miniature version of xiaolongbao was simply fantastic. The skins were practically translucent, and they were the perfect size for eating in a single bite, meaning no danger of burst skins or other messiness. The miniature xiaolongbao were gone in a flash, and the regular sized ones took only a little longer to disappear. Naturally the xiaolongbao were served with the traditional vinegar and ginger dipping sauce.
While xiaolongbao are the house specialty, the rest of our food was also very good. Beef noodles depend on tender meat and a soup that tastes of beef and not soy, MSG, or other cheap flavorings. The Ding Tai Feng version is better than anything else I have found in Shanghai. Some may not appreciate the amount of fat and tendon on the meat, but this contributes to the tenderness. The sticky rice wrapped in bamboo leaves with pork (zongzi) was also exceptional - quite simply one of the best zongzi I have had. Sticky rice was mixed with a little soy, pressed around a single piece of pork, wrapped in bamboo leaves and steamed. The rice was beautifully moist, with almost the texture of risotto, making it easier to eat than the usual relatively dry zongzi. I am a big fan of Cantonese zongzi, which usually contain more varied fillings. However, this simpler version, flavored simply with soy sauce and bamboo leaf, could easily convert me.
The total bill for two came to around 250 RMB. You can eat xiaolongbao elsewhere for far less than this, but given the quality I consider it a good deal. My only gripe was that despite having ordered drinks we had trouble getting a couple of glasses of tea from the waiter, who wanted to charge us for a pot. This was strange because on other visits they have supplied tea for free.
By this stage we were already full to bursting, but duty demanded that we hop in a taxi and check out Jiajia Tangbao. We slumped into the back seat of the nearest taxi and gave directions to the driver. It was a mission but eventually he got us there.
Jiajia Tangbao is literally a hole in the wall, located just south of the intersection of Henan South Rd. and Wenmiao Rd. When we arrived, at around 6.30 pm, they were closing up shop (so best get here early). The situation looked bleak, but after frantic protestations the boss (who incidentally looks a lot like the Hong Kong movie star Liu Qingyun) agreed to stay open a little longer. They make their xiaolongbao to order here. That is, they roll the dough and wrap the filling after you order, then steam them fresh. This approach is impressive. Unfortunately the pork mixture had been finished and the only options left were pure crab and a pork and shrimp mixture. We ordered a mixture of five crab and ten pork and shrimp.
The restaurant is small and grubby, with only about three tables. As we sat down my companion pointed out the alarming lack of hygiene and announced that she would not be eating anything. However, just as the war photographer is not deterred by instant death, I refused to bow to fear. Images of emergency rooms danced in my mind as I scanned the squalid surroundings. I maintained my focus. My adrenalin began to rush. The xiaolongbao arrived.
I would love to say that the xiaolongbao were fantastic and that I had discovered a little known Shanghai gem. But they were not that good. The skins were thicker than at Ding Tai Feng, and also rather tough. Perhaps the dough had been overworked. As my local friend had promised, the fillings were exceptionally soupy. The crab version was not bad tasting, though I still preferred Ding Tai Feng. The Jiajia Tangbao version is a shells-and-all style crab attack, while the Ding Tai Feng version is less sloppy, spreads the crab with a little pork, and just tastes more sophisticated. Sadly the shrimp and pork version was just plain nasty, with tough, flavorless shrimp washing around in slop. I left most of them. Disappointingly, the xiaolongbao were served with plain vinegar and no ginger. At around 35 RMB for 15 dumplings this shop is cheaper than Ding Tai Feng, but more expensive than many other places. It has the distinction of being the only local restaurant in which a local companion has refused on grounds of a lack of hygiene. Only the adventurous should come here.
Our quest had finished on a disappointing note. We left Liu Qingyun to close up his shop. My companion wanted to go and take sticky photos at one of the myriad of sticky photo booths in nearby Wenmiao Rd. Incidentally, Wenmiao Rd. is a paradise for girls, selling all kinds of cute and kitsch jewelry and accessories at very reasonable prices. For guys it is not quite so much fun. We took photos. The woman in the photo shop told me I looked like a parrot. I could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing, and tried not to think about it. My companion stopped and bought a fortune seeking cat (找财猫, zhaocai mao) to hang on her wrist. I watched and wondered if I could buy a xiaolongbao seeking cat, and if so where one might lead me.
Addresses:
Ding Tai Feng
Shop 1
Xintiandi, South Block, No. 6, F2, 11A (under Alexander Health Club)
Tel: 021 6285 8378
Shop 2
No. 18 Shuicheng Rd., Peace Square, Rm. 109 (near Hongqiao Rd.)
Tel: 021- 6208 4188
Jiajia Tangbao
Henan South Rd., No. 638 (near Wenmiao Rd.)
Tel: 021 6366 3570
|
