At 2 a.m., I was hunched over my laptop, revising the 8th draft of a proposal, when my phone buzzed: “Hongxing Dabao, your go-to spot, is closing tomorrow?” My heart sank. This decade-old bun shop—where uncles queued at 6 a.m. for paper-thin skinned crab roe xiaolongbao, juice splashing onto shirts, and the owner chuckled, “Little girl, don’t rush to work”—was more than a meal. It was a slice of Shanghai’s soul， Shanghai food.
In this city, there are countless such hidden gems: tucked into lane corners, neighborhood storefronts, or mall basements. No neon signs, no Instagrammable walls, not even printed menus—just a bowl of hot noodle soup, sizzling lamb skewers, or crispy crab shell pastries that silently mend our weary days.
Having lived in Shanghai for 7 years, I’ve fallen for my fair share of overhyped “Instagram cafes” (overpriced “aesthetic” cakes, cloyingly sweet “creative” drinks). But I’ve also unearthed real treasures in these nooks. Today, I’m sharing my ultimate list of 17 life-saving spots—not for clout, but to shout out the passionate owners: “Please keep coming. We’ll miss you.”
1. RichChance 富恰 (Avg. ¥50): The Office Worker’s “Healing Energy Station”
I first found Shanghai food. RichChance at 9 p.m. after overtime, lured by warm yellow lights on Anfu Road. Tiny (only 6 tables), its walls are covered in handwritten notes: “Today’s mushroom soup has 3 extra king oysters!” “The tiramisu’s coffee liqueur ratio is perfect!”
The owner, a French-educated woman, speaks softly but insists on premium ingredients: baguettes baked fresh daily, mushroom soup made with imported French fungi, even house-made vinaigrette with handwritten ratios on the bottle. My go-to: Smoked Salmon Benedict—silky poached egg, zesty lemon-infused hollandaise, paired with hot latte. It wipes 80% of work stress in 20 minutes.
Later, I learned her rent rose three times, yet she refuses to hike prices. “Many white-collar workers only afford sandwiches for lunch. I want them to enjoy a proper meal for ¥50.” Once, I saw her feeding stray cats outside—suddenly, I got it: Great food isn’t about marketing. It’s about love for life.
2. 知汝食堂 (Avg. ¥80): The “Mom’s Taste” Hidden in a Residential Compound
Tucked in a Gubei community, this tiny Japanese eatery is my accidental find—followed a dog-walking aunt. Unassuming from the outside, step inside and you’re in a J-drama: polished wooden tables, the owner in a blue-striped apron, handing miso soup to guests.
知汝’s menu Shanghai food reads “homestyle cooking”—no fancy plating, just hearty portions. Must-orders: Thick-Cut Tongue (charred, glazed with secret sauce, crispy “crack” when bitten); Oyako Don (silky egg like pudding, tender chicken, rice soaked in umami); and seasonal specials: mugwort mochi in spring, sakura mochi in summer, matsutake donburi in fall, radish beef tendon in winter. “Food should taste like itself—no overcomplicating,” the owner says. She ran a Tokyo izakaya for a decade; back in Shanghai, she wanted “real home flavors” for everyone. “See Mr. Zhang next door? He comes every Wednesday. Says it’s better than his daughter’s cooking.”
3. 旬福食堂 (Avg. ¥30): The Office Worker’s “Breakfast Lifesaver”
No one in Jing’an Temple area doesn’t know 旬福. This Shanghai food. breakfast stall on Yuyuan Road opens at 6 a.m., closes at 2 p.m., and the line never stops—yet no one complains. They smile: “We know it’s coming when we smell it.”
Their star: Salty Soy Milk + Ciliao Cake. Salty soy milk, simmered with soybeans, dried shrimp, and seaweed, thick enough to cling to spoons. Add a dash of chili oil, pair with hot-off-the-fryer ciliao cake—crispy outside, soft inside, “crunch” with every bite. I (a small girl) can finish two bowls. Then there’s Scallion Oil Noodles: fresh noodles rolled daily, scallion oil simmered with pork lard—golden, fragrant, every strand coated in shine. Finish the bowl and you’ll lick it clean.
The owner, a chubby uncle in a white chef’s coat, yells, “Girl, your noodles are ready!” once, I saw him slip an extra tea egg to a food delivery rider: “Long way, fuel up.” That’s why 旬福 has thrived for 20 years: Affordable. Real. Heartwarming.
4. 太琼糟粕醋 (Avg. ¥100): Shanghai’s Rare “Hainan Hearth”
I first heard of “zao po cu” (fermented rice wine vinegar) on Xiaohongshu—dubbed “the soul of Hainanese soup.” Curious, I visited their Wukang Road branch—and was blown away: Thai-inspired wooden decor, air thick with rice wine and vinegar, decor radiating island laziness.
太琼’s Shanghai food, zao po cu broth, made from fermented rice wine, aged vinegar, and chili, is tangy-spicy—hits your nose, wakes up your appetite. Must-orders: Seafood Platter (shrimp still jumping, clams gaping, abalone soaked in broth, chewy and briny); Zao Po Cu Fried Rice (grains separate, coated in vinegar-chili aroma, more layered than regular fried rice).
The owner, a Hainan native, lit up talking about home: “Couldn’t find authentic zao po cu in Shanghai, so I opened this.” Now they sell Hainan yellow chili sauce, coconut sugar, even coconut-tree-patterned tissues. “Want customers to remember Hainan’s flavor long after they leave.”
5. 三个蒙古大叔羊肉串 (大宁店) (Avg. ¥50): Late-Night “Happiness Gas Station”
At the end of Daming Night Market, three Mongolian uncles run a lamb skewer stand—more a small shed with red curtains, tables, beer, and peanuts. Speaking Northeastern dialect, they grill and chat: “Girl, this lamb chop’s marbled—super fragrant!”
Lamb from Inner Mongolia, fresh daily, skewered and grilled with secret sauce, sprinkled with cumin—aroma wafts half the street. Try Lamb Chop Skewers (tender, juicy) and Crackling Pork Ribs (crunchy, “snap” when bitten), paired with ice-cold beer—summer heat fades instantly. “We don’t do fancy. Just real food for young folks,” the uncles say. Once, I ate late with friends and met a uncle with his grandson: “My grandpa ate this as a kid. Now I bring my grandson—same taste.” Some flavors, it seems, stitch generations together.
6. Miss Poke 波奇鲜 (Avg. ¥50): The “Healing Paradise” for Health-Conscious Eaters
As a fitness enthusiast, I’m picky about salads: no boiled veggies, no sauce overload. Then a friend dragged me to Miss Poke—and I became a regular.
波奇鲜’s poke bowls scream “fresh”: daily sliced salmon, in-season avocados, homemade quinoa, even customizable sauces (I’m obsessed with lemon-vinegar, tangy-sweet, coating purple cabbage, cucumber, corn—refreshing as ocean breeze). Must-order: Salmon Poke Bowl—thick salmon on rice, topped with sesame and seaweed. One bite, and you’ll spin with joy.
The owner, a health-focused gal, beams talking about ingredients: “I pick the freshest veggies from the market daily—no frozen stuff.” They now offer low-cal and vegan versions, even biodegradable bowls. “Want more people to eat healthy and enjoy it.”
7. 弘兴大包 (Avg. ¥30): Old Shanghai’s “Breakfast Museum”
Shanghai food 弘兴大包’s story starts in 1982. This Yunnan South Road institution holds decades of Shanghainese breakfast memories. I went first with my grandma: “Your mom loved their crab roe xiaolongbao—now it’s your turn.”
弘兴’s buns use “old dough” fermentation—soft yet chewy, stuffed with juicy soup. Must-orders: Crab Roe Xiaolongbao (fresh crab meat mixed with pork, umami bursting) and Pork Big Bun (perfect fat-lean ratio, juicy but not greasy). Don’t miss Soy Milk and Tofu Pudding—freshly ground, nutty, ideal with buns.
They still practice “handmade, steamed-to-order”—cooks start kneading dough at 3 a.m. to serve the freshest. Once, I saw a silver-haired man sitting by the window, eating buns. Reminded me of grandma’s words: “Old flavors can’t die—they’re memories.”
8. 敬食 (Avg. ¥40): Creative Cuisine with “Home Hearth”
Tucked in a Yanping Road alley, 敬食 is small but full of surprises. The owner, a former Michelin chef, chose this “down-to-earth” spot: “I want regular folks to enjoy creative food too.”
Their monthly-changing menu focuses on “fusion”: Black Truffle Beef Fried Rice (cooked in Spanish lard, grains separate, truffle aroma piercing the nose); Preserved Plum Spareribs (sweet-sour, tender meat falling off the bone, suck the bones clean); Fermented Glutinous Rice Balls Soup (homemade rice wine, hand-rolled balls, sweet but not cloying—girls rave about it).
What touches me most? Their Shanghai food menu note: “If your favorite dish sells out today, tell me—we’ll save one for tomorrow.” Once, I missed Crab Roe Tofu; the owner saved a bowl next day, with a note: “Knew you loved it—made extra.”
9. 香江姳苑 (Avg. ¥50): “Hong Kong Nostalgia” Hidden in an Office Tower
香江姳苑 sits in a building behind Plaza 66, low-key but serving the most authentic Hong Kong flavors. The owner, a Hong Kong auntie, speaks soft Cantonese-Mandarin: “Girl, have a bowl of wonton noodles?”
Wonton noodles’ soul is the broth—simmered 8 hours with pork bones, chicken carcasses, and dried flounder. Clear but brimming with umami. Wontons: bamboo-steamed dough, thin as paper, stuffed with whole shrimp and pork. Noodles: alkaline wheat, chewy but not hard. Don’t skip Pineapple Bun (golden, crispy, stuffed with icy butter—hot-cold explosion) or Silk Stocking Milk Tea (Ceylon tea, rich, creamy—better than most cha chaan tengs).
“I’ve been in Shanghai 15 years. Watched students grow into parents, bringing their kids—who say, ‘Tastes like mom’s cooking.’” Great flavors, it turns out, grow with you.
10. 嗲嗲的椰子鸡 (Avg. ¥100): Shanghai’s “Tropical Sanctuary”
嗲嗲的椰子鸡 pops up in malls but stays beloved. I went first with a friend: “Don’t judge by the fancy decor—the broth will blow your mind!”
Coconut chicken’s magic is fresh coconuts—3-4 per pot, boiled with water. Broth sweet as coconut water. Chicken: Hainan Wenchang chicken, fresh-slaughtered, tender as melted butter, dipped in ginger-lime-chili sauce—bright, zesty, tongue-tingling. Must-orders: Coconut Chicken Broth with Bamboo Fungus (fungus soaks up broth, umami explosion) and Durian Fried Rice (Musang King durian, sweet but not heavy—perfect with broth).
The owner, a young guy, lights up: “Wanted Shanghainese to taste authentic coconut chicken without flying to Sanya.” Now they serve coconut jelly, coconut ice cream—even straws made from coconut shells. “Let customers taste Hainan’s breeze from start to finish.”
