【Monday Foodie Feature】Hualong Shanghai Cuisine & Dim Sum – The Authentic Taste of Old Shanghai

Master Chef Zhao doesn’t like to explain too much. He can talk techniques, history, or philosophy, but all he truly hopes for is your simple “delicious!” verdict. With over half a century devoted to Jiangsu-Zhejiang and Shanghai cuisines, he has worked at luxury hotels like Grand Hyatt, Lai Lai, and Grand Hotel, and later served as Executive Chef at New Puyuan. These are just the highlights—he’s actually trained countless students. During our interview, one of his former students even dropped by to deliver mooncakes; that student now works as an executive chef at a chain restaurant. But Master Zhao doesn’t seek credit nor needs it. In fact, he doesn’t even bother explaining what counts as Shanghainese or traditional cuisine—because there’s no need. “Tradition, isn’t it just about taking your time, doing things meticulously, and getting them right? Isn’t that enough?” Chef Zhao says with a smile.

So even though this soup dumpling may not look mainstream with its upside-down presentation, the effort is justified, and the taste makes sense—so upside-down it shall stay. Moreover, it invites a three-part tasting experience: eat it as is, dip it in vinegar with shredded ginger, or drop it into the soup. Eating it plain lets you savor the tender meat, thin skin, and rich broth. Su-Hang cuisine often emphasizes textures that are delicate, fine, and tender—and this dumpling’s filling delivers. The burst of savory juice in your mouth offers layer upon layer of flavor. Dipping it in vinegar balances the richness while highlighting the dough’s aroma. But the strangest—and most delightful—part is the third way to eat it. “You absolutely have to try this third way!” Chef Zhao said excitedly before promptly dropping a dumpling into a bowl of soup for me. The soup is made with premium stock, shredded egg, and seaweed, resembling the humble yet comforting “three-shred soup” commonly found in Shanghai households. When you bite into the dumpling in the soup, you first taste the refreshing seaweed broth, then the rich, savory juices burst forth, and finally, the two meld together in your mouth, creating a delightful interplay of textures. This dumpling essentially becomes a small bowl of perfectly balanced soup, delivering yet another layer of culinary artistry. Even after soaking in the soup, the skin remains intact. It floats and bobs like a little lantern. By the time the whole bowl cools down, the skin is still springy—now that’s skill.

The towel gourd and shrimp xiaolongbao is an innovative creation. While various xiaolongbao fillings abound, and towel gourd isn’t entirely new either, it was actually Master Zhao who first made this “Taiwan-style” xiaolongbao. “Because it’s so readily available!” he says. The first thing you taste is the sweet freshness of the towel gourd, followed by a soft yet crisp texture, and then the juicy pop of shrimp that brings its own umami. Both elements are fresh and sweet, yet distinct in character, harmonizing beautifully like a refined yet homely flavor that leaves you wanting more—a truly elegant and delicious treat.

 

In the old days of Jiangsu and Zhejiang, there was a saying about “four small plates, four large plates, eight small bowls, and eight large bowls,” but these days, things aren’t so formal. It’s simply a matter of distinguishing between cold dishes, hot dishes, dim sum, and main courses. For cold dishes, there’s the Shaoxing drunken chicken leg, made using corn-fed chicken from Taitung—the kind raised free-range on corn, resulting in a texture that sits between free-range toughness and broiler tenderness. The meat is fine yet still pleasantly springy, with a sweet and savory flavor. The traditional method doesn’t involve tying or reshaping the chicken. “Traditional drunken chicken is all about tenderness. Tying and slicing it just makes it look nice, but boiling it that way would make it tough,” Chef Zhao explains. His version has a rich, robust wine aroma. Aside from Shaoxing wine, the marinade also includes Honglu wine and premium broth, resulting in a fragrant and deeply flavorful dish—not heavy or dull, and without any herbal interference like goji berries or American ginseng. This allows the wine flavor to shine purely and fully. When I mention this, Chef Zhao nods in agreement. “Traditional methods never used herbs. Adding them ruins the flavor balance—it wouldn’t be Shanghai cuisine anymore.”