One of the things that Shanghai does better than much of the rest of the world is food. Shanghai boasts many sensational street snacks from your morning jianbing (煎饼) to the late-night shaokao (烧烤), but what allows Shanghai to compete at the international level is its offering of multinational and fusion restaurants of superior quality and creativity. You will find many such restaurants in high-end hotels surrounding People’s Square and in revivalist buildings lining both shores of the Bund. They offer reliably good service and food, but at a steep cost. Other fine dining locales are littered throughout the neighborhoods of Shanghai. With guidance and experimentation, you will be able to discriminate for yourself which are worth the dent in your wallet. Below are a few tips I’ve collected (and treats I’ve fondly recollected) after a year of fine eating. For starters, exercise discernment on the Bund where prices are geared toward tourists and inflated by the view. Know what you’re paying for: the cost of “being seen” and the ensuing pictures at a Bund restaurant are worth more for some than for others. For example, you can enjoy Jean Georges’ flavor-blending expertise at their more casual dining room Nougatine right on the same floor without the prix fixe price tag. If you go to the Bund at all--which you can’t avoid doing--Mr. and Mrs. Bund and M on the Bund are classics. They are each comprised of the characteristics—accommodating staff, quality ingredients, overpriced, underwhelming fruit plates, something classy and something quirky—that distinguish both as paradigmatic “Bund restaurants.” My own favorite Bund menu, located in the Jean-George-dominated 3 on the Bund, is Mercato, serving Italian food with a cosmopolitan twist. Ask for the breadsticks from the bar instead of the complimentary breadbasket. Their personal pizza selection varies by season, but they usually offer some rendition of a soft-cheese covered kale-type green and sausage-type meat. I’ve had this in the ‘Spicy Salami, Broccolini, House-Made Ricotta’ form, and I still salivate at the memory. Do not underestimate their take of “spaghetti and meatball.” It’s an al dente rigatoni with two or four (depending on order size) substantial meatballs soaked in a chili-tomato ragù, all sprinkled over with a crispy Pecorino-type cheese. To pause and ask an ontological question , what is fine dining anyway? It can be deceptive: the gourmand goes to a restaurant not only to eat but also to enjoy the décor, the service, the company and the location—the exquisite act of entering a restaurant, giving the name of your reservation, and walking through an often meticulously curated room to your table. In efforts to share these ineffable experiences, I like to speak in terms of “food” and “concept food.” Food is what we are familiar with: steak, macaroni and cheese, Margherita pizza. Concept food depends on context; it is food plus the mental or sentimental experience of eating food that contributes to its taste. The difference between food and concept food is that of the ends of a spectrum than two distinct categories. For example, many restaurants execute tuna tartar differently, and some are fancier, more-garnished, and smaller-portioned than others. Comparing Italian restaurants along the Bund, 8 ½ Otto e Mezzo Bomana ranks as leaning heaviest toward concept food, followed by Good Fellas well past the midpoint of the spectrum, and then Mercato. (This is also the order of least to most student-budget friendly.) If we’re going to get serious about restaurants, we also need to have a talk about dinner breadbaskets. In my unofficial study of restaurants, I’ve found that, on average, restaurants highlight one or two specialty appetizers, mains, and desserts, and their focus on these features distracts them from the first and most telling food impression they make on customers: the breadbasket. I am not one of those “Save your stomach for the main meal!” types. I am very much the “So…can we have some more bread, please?” types. A fresh breadbasket shows consideration and appreciation for the eating experience and indicates dedication to detail in other areas of the menu. Three French restaurants in the Former French Concession excel by the bread metric with the third setting the standard: Le Saleya, Cuive, and Franck. Franck’s bread is from the next-door bakery Farine, which imports flour for all their baked foods from France. Francks’ self-awareness of their excellence in bread is illustrated by the rapidity with which my own breadbaskets have been refilled over and over without so much as my making eye contact with a waiter. All three restaurants offer classic French dishes; notable qualities of each are Le Saleya’s lunch prix fixe, Cuivre’s Sunday brunch, and Franck’s ever-changing menu two portable-chalk-boards long, for the whole restaurant to share. Fine dining restaurants in Shanghai form a niche community. People in the business know each other, from importers to waitstaff to chefs. Because there exists no website that comprehensively covers the Shanghai food scene, and individual restaurant websites are so infrequently updated, foodies lack reliable sources for culinary ongoings. One option is to follow individual restaurants on WeChat, where restaurants will post events and new menu updates. Alternatively—and this is my recommendation—follow chefs, by which I mean, find the name of the head chef of the restaurant whose food haunts your dreams and google their name once every few months. Never said it was easy being a foodie. Often you’ll find successful chefs who have started numerous establishments. My chef crush is Jason Atherton of Table No. 1 and, newly, The Commune Social in Jing’An District. If I had it my way, I would start the evening at The Commune Social for tapas with a group of friends, retreat to Table No. 1 with my date, and request four orders of their mashed potatoes to-go, because food. Similarly, for no other reason than the glory of food, go to Goga and Hai by Goga, two San Francisco-themed restaurants by Brad Turley just a few steps from each other. I call these meta-fusion restaurants since they merge dish concepts from a region already excelling in fusion food and Asian fare. And for the love of food that feeds your soul and your stomach, visit Nene, an Italian restaurant on Yongfu Lu, whose interior makes you feel like you’re dining in a home kitchen. This unpretentious, personable, restaurant—only one room large—is perfect for both special and casual occasions. Haute cuisine establishments in Shanghai are constantly moving in and out. I’ve left out many fares in part because the culinary climate of Shanghai is inexhaustible and because I have less to share on cuisines that I sought out less frequently. In haste: For Indian food, go to Vedas; experience Japanese delicacies (and an acceptable use of gratuitous fois gras in the ‘fois gras steamed egg’) at Shari; explore Mediterranean cuisine at El Elefante’s Sunday brunch. Because fancy restaurants aren’t cheap, I recommend reading reviews before making a reservation. Food blogs I have consulted include Shanghai Girl Eats and Sugared & Spiced. Capitalize on fall and spring Restaurant Weeks where you can indulge at a fixed, more reasonable price. And, again for food’s sake, make the trek to the Roujiamo(肉夹馍) stand on the corner of Dagu Lu and Shimen Er Lu, or take Line 2 to Lotus on Dingxi Lu for fried Yunnan goat cheese. I have never enjoyed my meal and myself more than after a two hour wait in the damp winter chill at Mr. Wu’s A Da Congyoubing(葱油饼). Any of these could be fine dining experiences if you have the right attitude. That is, afterall, what makes fine dining ‘fine’. This article was written by Gloria Yu. Send an email to [email protected] to get in touch. Photo Credit: Marjorie Wang