Come spring, Migas will attract flocks of scenesters to its sumptuous seventh-story Sanlitun terrace, which offers 360-degree views and a decor of cacti and ovoid seating pods that suggests a UFO landing site. Until then, its principal lure will be its sixth-floor restaurant, a cavernous industrial space styled in a grey and brown palette offset by a colorful Miro-esque painting and futuristic light globules. Small plate and wine menus worthy of Barcelona’s hippest restaurants and an Ibero-jazz soundtrack add to the pleasantly dislocating effect – Beijing’s boxy buildings seem a world away.

Incongruous moments are a dime a dozen in Beijing, but bringing our kids to this restaurant catering to Gongti clubbers proved unusually weird.

In a city where style increasingly trumps substance, this jaded diner set little store by Xihe Yayuan’s handsome Ming nouveau decor and cushy window booths. While waiting for our duck (RMB 203), we grazed on a refreshing cold winged bean salad and a masterful rendition of daoxiao mian, thick knife-shaved noodles in a caramelized sauce of eggplant, red pepper, garlic and pork. The arrival of a bird roasted over pine wood to resplendent shades of brown and tan announced the moment of truth.

Named after Bacchus, the Roman god of wine, Bacco champions a hedonistic approach to the pleasures of the table. An evening here could start with a Campari and soda at the bar and end, five courses and several Chianti bottles later, with a waiter offering to accompany an inebriated patron home by taxi (a free service within the Third Ring).

If restaurant chains like Crystal Jade and Din Tai Fung succeeded by taking Cantonese shaomai and Shanghainese xialongbao upmarket, why not try the same with Tianjin-style jiaozi?

The steaming bowl of harira (RMB 25), a hearty yet subtly spiced soup of lentils, chickpeas, rice and tomatoes, powerfully evoked – by smell, sight and taste – a trip to Morocco, catching me by surprise. Whether you too have fond memories of couscous to awaken or are new to Moroccan cuisine, expect the authentic dishes served in this charming hideaway to whisk you away.

With only four tables and a sushi counter of untreated wood, Midorikawa uses its petite size to advantage, offering an intimate escape from the world beyond its latticed windows. As diners exchange confidences over a bossa nova soundtrack, sushi chefs with sharp outfits and sharper knives slice pricey, pedigreed seafood airlifted from Tokyo's Tsukiji market.

Many ingredients of the classic neighborhood Italian restaurant
are to be found at Scott’s: cheerful staff offering complimentary nibbles, reasonable prices, an eclectic decor featuring chairs in at least four ornate styles, delivery within 5km and a menu of Beijing-Italo standards like minestrone, spaghetti bolognese (RMB 28-38) and saltimbocca.

Not long after the avuncular owner sits you down on traditional rosewood furniture, you’ll be rooting through their signature hot pot for chunks of dark, succulent goosemeat. Choose either potato or taro as an accompaniment; watch it all bubble in a rich hongshao gravy or a light clear broth. The small hot pot (RMB 58) feeds 3-4, while the large (RMB 88) will satisfy a crowd of 5-6.

P.K.14 axeman and epicure Xu Bo

P.K.14: Still Thoughts Vegetarian Restaurant
“Our favorite place as a band is this vegetarian joint behind the Meishuguan. It's quiet (!) and nothing cleans the gut like a good veggie meal. Plus it's run by our ex-bassist Ren Jie's cousin, so it's got a nice family vibe to it. We often take our friends and musicians passing through town.”