Dumplings to Dim Sum: A Street Food Journey Through Shanghai's Culinary Neighborhoods

If Shanghai had a culinary epicenter, the narrow lanes surrounding Yu Garden (Yuyuan) would be it. This is where I started my food pilgrimage, and where you should too. The historic district is home to the original Nanxiang Steamed Bun Restaurant, birthplace of xiaolongbao—those delicate soup dumplings that have conquered the world.

The queue at Nanxiang stretches like a suspension bridge at rush hour, but don't be deterred. Instead, do what locals do: grab a bamboo steamer from one of the smaller vendors along the outer periphery of the bazaar. For about 25 yuan (roughly £3), you'll get 6-8 perfectly crafted dumplings. The technique is crucial: pick up with chopsticks, dip gently in vinegar, place on your spoon, make a tiny hole to release steam, then consume the soup before eating the wrapper.

Beyond dumplings, this area offers shengjianbao (pan-fried buns with soup inside) that provide a textural contrast with their crispy bottoms and fluffy tops. After filling up on dumplings, I wandered through the nearby lanes with a collapsible water bottle in hand—essential for staying hydrated between food stops without generating plastic waste.

Shanghai locals treat breakfast with the same reverence that Kiwis give to our morning flat white. By 6:30am, Fangbang Road and the surrounding hutongs are already alive with vendors serving breakfast staples. This is where I discovered my morning ritual: youtiao (fried dough sticks) dipped in fresh soy milk, followed by a cong you bing (scallion pancake) from a grandmother who's been making them for 40 years.

The real standout here is jianbing—essentially the Chinese answer to a breakfast burrito. Watching these being made is like witnessing a carefully choreographed dance: batter spread thin on a circular griddle, egg cracked and spread, crispy wonton added, then sauces, herbs, and chili if you're brave. The whole thing is folded into a portable package that costs about 8 yuan (less than £1).

I found myself returning here multiple mornings, insulated travel mug filled with tea from my hostel. The mug kept my drink hot through hours of morning exploration and prevented me from adding to the city's waste stream. Plus, it doubled as a hand-warmer during those chilly autumn mornings when the mist hung low over the city.

When the midday crowds in central Shanghai become overwhelming, I hop on the metro to Qibao—a water town on the city's western edge that feels centuries removed from the skyscrapers downtown. This ancient canal town might be touristy, but its food scene remains authentically local and surprisingly affordable.

The narrow main street is lined with vendors selling traditional snacks. My strategy was simple: follow my nose and the local crowds. This led me to chou doufu (stinky tofu)—yes, it smells like a rugby team's locker room after a match in the rain, but tastes divine when fried crisp and topped with sweet sauce. For the less adventurous, the glutinous rice balls filled with black sesame paste make for a safer choice.

The highlight here is tangcu paigu (sweet and sour ribs), which are cooked in large woks until the meat nearly falls off the bone. I found myself perched on a tiny plastic stool by the canal, using my travel chopsticks to pick clean every last morsel while watching boats drift by. These foldable chopsticks have accompanied me across Southeast Asia and proved especially useful in Shanghai, where disposable utensils are still common despite growing environmental awareness.

As darkness falls, Shanghai's culinary energy shifts to Shouning Road—a narrow street near People's Square that comes alive after sunset. This is where locals go for xiaoye (midnight snack), though I found myself there well before midnight most nights, drawn by the irresistible aroma of grilled seafood.

The street specializes in crayfish (xiaolongxia) boiled in spicy broth, but offers everything from grilled oysters to skewers of lamb. The ritual here is beautifully simple: pick your raw ingredients from buckets or tanks, negotiate a price (or accept the menu price if your Mandarin is as limited as mine), then watch as they're cooked before your eyes.

The experience is messy—gloriously so. I came prepared with a packable rain jacket that doubled as a makeshift bib to protect my clothes from the inevitable splatter of chili oil and juices. This lightweight jacket has saved me from sudden downpours across four continents and proved equally valuable for street food adventures.

The communal atmosphere on Shouning Road epitomizes Shanghai's food culture. I shared a table with a group of young office workers who insisted I try their stinky tofu in exchange for a taste of my crayfish. Despite the language barrier, food became our common language—just as bridges connect different communities across physical divides.

For my final food adventure, I ventured to Tianzifang—a labyrinth of narrow lanes and shikumen buildings that have been transformed into a trendy arts district. While it's admittedly more upscale than other areas I've covered, budget travelers can still find affordable dim sum treasures here if they know where to look.

Tucked away from the main thoroughfares are small family-run restaurants serving traditional Shanghainese dim sum. These places offer har gow (shrimp dumplings), siu mai (pork dumplings), and my personal favorite, egg custard tarts with perfectly flaky crusts. A full dim sum feast can be had for under 100 yuan (about £11) if you avoid the obviously touristy establishments.

I discovered a tiny place down a side alley where the menu was entirely in Chinese. Armed with my pocket translator, I navigated the menu and ended up with a bamboo steamer of xiao long bao that rivaled those from the famous chains but at a fraction of the price. This pocket translator has been invaluable throughout my travels in China, helping me decipher menus and communicate with vendors who speak no English.

What makes Tianzifang special is the juxtaposition of traditional food in a setting that blends old Shanghai architecture with contemporary art and design. It's like watching a modern arch being incorporated into a classical bridge design—a harmony of old and new that defines Shanghai itself.