Walking The Bund and sailing the Huangpu River are great, but there’s no better way to get a feel for the heartbeat of China’s most glamorous (and populous) city than by following your tastebuds. Here’s Dilvin Yasa’s Shanghai in 7 dishes…
‘Come to Shanghai and eat us out of house and home’ was perhaps not the brief I was given when I landed in the ‘Paris of the East’ recently, but with a sweeter-than-average cuisine heavy on ‘drunken’ chicken and crab how can anyone resist? Four days, 60 kilograms and endless unbelievable dining experiences later, I present to you the seven dishes (and in the case of one restaurant, experience) you need to pop in your ‘must do’ journal immediately.
1. Peking duck
When I was instructed to book a table at the recently opened W Shanghai’s upscale YEN restaurant and order myself chef CK Sau’s modern take on Peking duck, I thought they were confused. The centuries-old dish – one of the main dishes on imperial court menus back in the 1300s – hails from Beijing, not Shanghai and the request is not unlike someone in Coober Pedy asking you to try their ‘famous’ seafood platter.
But oh, what a revelation! Rather than stuff a pancake with duck meat, spring onion and cucumber, Sau pairs the duck with a surprising piece of melon and serves it up with a rose-infused sauce. It sounds wrong, but tastes oh so right.
2. Xiaolongbao (soup dumpling)
If you’re hankering for traditional street food, it doesn’t get any more authentic than Jia Jia Tang Bao, a hole-in-the-wall at the People’s Square as notorious for its looooong lines and plastic-stool ambience as it is for its made-to-order soup dumplings – or xiaolongbao.
Most locals swear you can do no better than the hot parcels of pork and soup, but I’m convinced pure crab is the clear winner. Regardless, give yourself extra time and prepare to go straight on the nod afterwards.
3. All 20 courses at Ultraviolet
Technically, I’m cheating, however no dining compilation of Shanghai is complete without Ultraviolet, a three Michelin-starred ‘experiential’ restaurant conceived and executed by French chef Paul Pairet, located somewhere so secret, no one actually knows where it is (a bus transports you to an unmarked entrance somewhere near Suzhou Creek).
What comes next is the ultimate multi-sensory experience for 10 guests only, featuring 20 courses served by a team of chefs, servers and producers who activate sounds, lights, scents and videos from a nearby control room. The dishes too also remain closely guarded – although a quick scroll on Instagram shows diners enjoying the likes of Coca Cola duck. Got a spare $800? You can make a booking and tell us all about it.
4. Sesame noodles
If you’ve ever wondered what eating in a prison dining room must feel like, pay a visit to Wei Xiang Zhai, a decades-old restaurant where the scenes are so chaotic that many food reviewers often refer to it kindly as being a somewhat ‘unforgiving’ environment.
People keep coming back however, because their signature sesame noodles – angel hair wheat noodles slicked with molten sesame-chilli paste and topped with your choice of meat – is so good, it’s worth fighting the hordes off to get a seat and then showing off your shiv anytime someone hovers by your table. I plan to go back the minute I’m next in Shanghai. If they’ll have me.
5. Shengjian bao (pan-fried buns)
I don’t eat pork, but if I did, locals assure me the first place they’d mark on my list is culinary institution Da Hu Chun for a few plates of their sheng jian bao – juicy pockets of pork wrapped in bread dough that is fried and then steamed.
Although the buns are now a consistent thread in the tapestry of Shanghai’s dining scene, the history of sheng jian bao is a little murky, with many reporting it was created in the early 1900s to be served in tea shops as part of dim sum. Da Hu Chun, now a chain, began serving it in the 1930s its original location on Sichuan Lu is the best place to park yourself.
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6. Long short rib teriyaki
Can’t afford (or can’t find) Ultraviolet? Head straight on over to Pairet’s other award-winning offering, Mr & Mrs Bund, and give yourself over to the carnivorous pleasures of its mouth-watering long short rib teriyaki, a cut said to be inspired by Pairet’s dog’s bone and cooked for 12 hours so that the meat falls away from the bone at the merest suggestion.
There’s no history lesson here and no Shanghai element, but a visit to Mr & Mrs Bund will enable you to nod your head knowingly whenever someone brings up this dish – because someone eventually will. It’s only a matter of time.
7. Purple shiso sorbet with pickled mustard seeds
Taian Table powerhouse Stefan Stiller does not want me to use the word fusion to describe his Michelin-starred restaurant. “Fusion is confusion – especially in print," he warns and I gulp. Working my way through his 14-course degustation which is NOT fusion, but dishes of perfection with an Asian influence yet with its roots in Europe, I don’t even care anymore – it’s that delicious that he can call me Shirley and I’ll answer to it.
Reflective of the ever-changing cosmopolitan vibe of the city, the menu changes every month and I happen on Menu No 11, which features everything from king crab with avocado and tomato jelly, to grilled octopus with quinoa and capsicum water.
After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?
In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.
Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)
Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?
Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?
How tourism is changing in Nepal
Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.
Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.
“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.
Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”
Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”
CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.
A new generation demanding more
Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)
The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”
We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”
Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)
In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…
Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.
Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.
A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.
Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.
Life unfiltered in the Terai region
Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)
The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.
Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.
Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)
We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.
Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.
On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.
A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.
The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.
In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.
Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.
The power of community homestays
Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.
“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”
The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.
An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)
Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.
Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.
CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.
“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.
Elephant watch. (Credit: Simon Urwin)
In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.
Gathering greens. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)
“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”
Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”
Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.
Eat your way around Shanghai in 7 dishes | International Traveller
