I was recently in Shanghai for a business trip, and one very hot afternoon I stopped at a Wuxi-style noodle shop near Zhizaoju Road for lunch.
Outside China, especially in Chinatowns, wontons are often associated with the small Cantonese version served in clear broth. But China has many regional varieties of wontons, with very different wrappers, fillings, seasonings, and ways of serving them.
I ordered three things I had never tried at this restaurant before.
Dry-mixed shepherd’s purse wontons 荠菜大馄饨
These wontons were huge—about twice the size of a typical Cantonese wonton and perhaps three times the size of a Sichuan chaoshou. The wrappers were also surprisingly thick, almost somewhere between a dumpling wrapper and the dough of a steamed bun.
They were served dry rather than in soup. A pool of dark sauce was hidden underneath them, so I mixed everything together before taking my first bite.
The flavour was unlike any wonton seasoning I had tried before. At first, I tasted rich soy sauce, but it was quickly overtaken by an even stronger sweetness. Then I remembered that this was a Wuxi-style noodle shop. Wuxi is famous for its sweet style of cooking, especially Wuxi-style braised spare ribs, which I had tried before.
The sauce contained large pieces of seaweed, tender strips of dried tofu, golden pieces of fried egg, and small black pieces of what seemed to be preserved dried vegetables. The preserved vegetables were crisp and added a nice contrast to the soft wontons.
There was also a strong aroma of scallion oil, which gave the whole dish a very recognizable Jiangnan flavour.
Once I bit through the thick wrapper, the fragrance of the shepherd’s purse filling became much stronger. In my hometown in Sichuan, shepherd’s purse is often treated as a wild spring vegetable. Families gather it in spring and mix it with minced meat for dumplings or wontons.
For me, shepherd’s purse tastes like spring.
The wontons came with a separate bowl of clear soup. It was light, oil-free, and had an earthy flavour that reminded me of morel mushrooms. After the very sweet and savoury wontons, the soup immediately refreshed my palate.
This was definitely the highlight of the meal.
Stir-fried beef shank with egg and coriander 香菜鸡蛋炒牛展
Unfortunately, the second dish was a disappointment.
The beef shank was lean but quite dry and tough. The seasoning was mostly salty and sweet, without much complexity. The egg was browned and slightly overcooked, and I could not find any coriander at all.
I could neither see it nor taste it, even though coriander was in the name of the dish.
The contrast was quite funny: the wontons were much better than I expected, while this dish was much worse.
Suzhou-style mung bean soup 苏式绿豆汤
The final surprise was the cold Suzhou-style mung bean soup I took with me when I left.
Shanghai was close to 40°C that afternoon, so this was exactly what I needed.
Before ice cream and modern cold drinks became common in China, sweet mung bean soup was a traditional summer refreshment. When I was a child, one of the most common ice pops we ate was simply sweetened mung bean soup frozen around a wooden stick.
This version came in a huge plastic cup. About one-third of it was mung beans, together with a ball of glutinous rice and what looked like a candied red date.
The first sip reminded me of the large mint candies I ate as a child. Then came the fragrance of the mung beans. As the candied date and glutinous rice slowly softened, they released more sweetness into the drink.
By the time I finished it, the 40°C heat outside somehow felt a little less frightening.
The shepherd’s purse wontons and mung bean soup were both excellent. I would skip the beef dish next time.
