Street Eats: RMB 8 for a Tray of Cheap, Juicy, and Ever-So-Enticing Pan-Fried Baozi

We love baozi, and while we can’t afford high-end Din Tai Fung every day, that doesn’t mean that we can’t still stuff our delighted and podgy faces with these heartwarming balls of meat and dough elsewhere for a fraction of the price. 

One of the many joys of baozi and the various forms that they come in, and being too busy to jump on a bullet train to Shanghai doesn’t mean that you can’t slosh around in one of the best incarnations: pan-fried baozi (生煎包 shēngjiān bāo). So bready and delicious these crisp sacks of lava juice and dripping meat are that in Shanghai or Zhejiang province, locals call them pan-fried mantou (生煎馒头 shēngjiān mántou).

Generally, they're filled with minced pork meat and aspic, which creates all that soup. The completed baozi is then placed in a shallow flat plan with a hefty pool of oil, the heat simultaneously steaming the bread and melting the gelatin aspic into soup inside. 

As to where best to get shēngjiān bāo in Beijing, we're partial to the rendition at Meiming'r Shengjian, a chain restaurant that provides an authentic take. A tray of pork bao costs RMB 8 (four pieces), or opt for the super decadent bao with shrimp, cheese, and pork at RMB 6 for two pieces. We were surprised to find that Meiming'r doesn't use aspin to make their dumplings, which may explain why this chain is popular.

The original pork shengjian bao are already inviting enough; the thin skin is glossy with a generous splash of black and white sesame. These bundles are usually consumed in a one-two-three approach: first bite down gently and suck out the savory soup, then take a bite of the crunchy cube-shaped bottom, the savory-and-slightly-sweet filling mingling with the sesame and adding more texture, then one final bite of whatever's left.

The shrimp, cheese, and pork variety are tasty too, but it's best to eat them quick before the cheese cools down and hardens, making them less appetizing. At least the bottom never threatens to go soggy.

In case that’s not enough to have you lying back in a puffy glow, grease rolling off your chin, grab a finishing plate of wontons, the dumpling’s trustee pro-swimming cousin. Meiming'r may just have the largest wontons I’ve seen (RMB 7 for four pieces), almost the same size as the baozi, and guess what? They're pan-fried too! The flavor is the same as with the shengjian bao, making the only real difference the shape.

To balance out all these a-little-less-than-refreshing options, grab a side of fried lotus root with meat stuffing (RMB 18), reminding us of the “Lotus Root with Baby” found at Uncle Hot Noodles. Here the thick slices of lotus root are fried (OK, it's not exactly healthy), and seasoned with chili peppers, black pepper, and salt. It had just a little too much white pepper powder for our liking, but given they were half the price as Uncle Hot's, there's nothing really to complain about.

Too unctuous for you? There are also xiaolongbao (RMB 9 for a tray with six pieces). Since we're nowhere near Shanghai, you're going to have to lower your expectations on this one and pretend you aren't disappointment that they don't have a crab rendition. There are also shumai (RMB 9), zongzi, red bean spring rolls, porridge, and a handful of family-style dishes.

Given that it's 2017, and the prices still run parallel to those you might find in a hole in the wall, we can only show appreciation. Just one word of warning: be careful with the first bite, and don’t get disctracted by the baozi's crisp bottom crust, because you may end up showing more appreciation than you bargained for, with a sizable stain all the way down your shirt.

More stories by this author here.

Email: tracywang@thebeijinger.com
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Photos: Tracy Wang, Meiming'r