Restaurants in China
While there are many choices for dim sum in Shanghai, Soahc makes its mark with Yangzhou-influenced cuisine.
The straightforward fast-food menu of Chinese comfort staples here includes congee rice porridge with chicken, fried tofu with scallions (an ideal savory breakfast), wonton soup with scallops, barbecue pork, and choy sum vegetables in hot broth.
On Beijing's oldest commercial street, established China restaurateur Michelle Garnaut draws the city's glitterati with seasonal, locally sourced dishes such as wild-mushroom-and-truffle risotto.
In Vietnamese, Song means "to live,” and this central district restaurant gives life to Indochinese and Vietnamese fare. The interior is casual but intimate with comfortable chairs and soft light.
Owner Lau Kin Wai once critiqued the work of artists; now he scrutinizes culinary art and invites diners to form their own opinion of the Cantonese fare at his Tin Hau neighborhood restaurant.
Go to the 25th floor of the Mandarin Oriental, Hong Kong, for the sweeping views and gold-plated dim sum such as Wagyu beef–and–black pepper puffs and foie gras-and-prawn rolls.
Have a romantic dinner at this delightful spot tucked into a 1914 heritage building. An advertising executive turned Slow Food diva, owner Margaret Xu grows her own organic vegetables, makes fresh tofu, and grinds the flour for her slippery rice cakes.
Irish-born chef Brian McKenna was something of a Continental wunderkind—by his early 20s, he’d already worked in several Michelin-starred European kitchens—before he brought his super-creative cuisine to Beijing in 2007.
This is the only restaurant in Hong Kong to get three stars from the 2009 Michelin guide, and the locals were not all pleased. Sample harangue: “These French [Michelin] people, what do they understand? They only care about the view.
While the restaurant’s name refers to an old alley or lane, nothing could be further from reality. Dark tones, dramatic lighting, red lanterns, and panoramic views set the tone inside this 28th-floor location. The fare is northern Chinese, but made into Hutong trademarks with novel ingredients.
The crabmeat dumplings are available at a decadent (for Shanghai) splurge of $14 for a dozen and are thin-skinned with a deeply, sweetly crabby rich broth and meat. The place is one small room with about 30 seats, bright cafeteria lighting, linoleum floors, and a clear view into the kitchen.
This Mongolian hotpot restaurant takes open kitchen to the whole new level, putting the diners in charge of adding ingredients to the simmering pot at table side.
This high-design hot spot in a converted siheyuan (courtyard home) is the latest offering from chef Jereme Leung—already well known in Shanghai for taking traditional cuisine and turning it on its head.