The Scent of Shanghai
Trip Start
Nov 29, 2008
1
4
16
Trip End
Jan 03, 2009
Shanghai,
Zhejiang,
China
Monday, December 8, 2008
I'll be walking down the street to the constant clang and clamour of the city's current construction frenzy, the grit of dust filling my lungs, when from out of nowhere the sweet scent of braised beef and ginger wafts across my path.
I'm in Shanghai, an hour north of Hangzhou by train. Al and Kitty are off to start their lives together in connubial bliss, so my next stop is Ashley and his swanky pad in the Jing'an district.
I met Ashley last year in Medan, North Sumatra. We had many wild nights on the dance floor, inevitably followed by even wilder rides home in becaks, singing at the top of our lungs. We both teach English, though while I teach mainly to finance my travels, he's made a much bigger career of it. He left Medan a few months ago to take a teaching position at a prestigious new school here. It hasn't been the same in Medan without him.
Ashley works 12-hour days and doesn't have much time to explore the city, so it's up to me to discover it on my own. And the best way to discover Shanghai, I've found, is to follow my nose.
I was walking back from Ashley's work the other night when the scent of roasted sweet potatoes and corn beckoned from the roadside. They're roasted on converted oil drums, and if you order a potato, the man weighs it on a small hand-held scale. After sunset, the hawkers gather on the corner of Changshou Road and Wanhangdu Road in front of the Friendship Mall. It's hearty, bone-warming peasant food, and it costs only one to five kuai to fill up. A hot, fluffy sweet potato is the best comfort food on a freezing night far from home.
The next day I succumbed to a new scent from the same hawker area and bought a tray of fried dumplings (jiaozi), little packets of meat and minced green onion crimped at the edges like ravioli. They sizzled and hissed as the man stirred them around in his black wok. He served them up piping hot, amid plumes of steam, with vinegar and hot red chili sauce.
Unlike in Indonesia, plastic seats are not set out for the patrons of hawker stalls here. People normally bring their purchases home. But I couldn't wait-they smelled too good-so I sat with my tray in the freezing cold in front of KFC and went at them with my wooden skewer. Soft and tender, they melted in my mouth and warmed my stomach.
This morning I caught the scent of Shanghai's famous steamed buns and followed it down a new street, where swirls of cloud were sculpted onto the brick walls and ornate Art Deco gates opened into shaded courtyards. Shanghai is the original home of baoxi, one of China's favourite snacks. I found the bun shop inset into the wall, like a concession stand at the beach. The man lifted the lid of his bamboo steamer basket and popped a plump white bun into a baggie. I placed a one-kuai coin in his hand and wrapped my hands around my baoxi, the perfect handwarmer. I bit gently-the hot soup inside can scald the tongue-and found the small round meat patty inside.
Hotpots, spicy soups, pancakes, roasted chestnuts...they fill Shanghai's back streets with their siren scent, causing me to wander all over the city in search of new, tempting morsels to try. Ashley and I have gone to a couple of expensive restaurants and a pizza joint, but they didn't compare to the flavour and aroma of the street food. Luckily, my stomach is still holding out and allowing me to continue following my nose.
***
TIP: Don't be intimidated by communication barriers at hawker stalls. Just point at what you want and smile, then hand over a modest amount of money so the vendor can make change. I haven't yet met a dishonest vendor who ripped me off. If the price is a little inflated (even street food is up for bargaining), it's still far less expensive than anything you'll eat at a restaurant. Chances are it's more delicious, too.
