“A Taste of Home” is a regular magazine column in which we ask the natives of a particular country to introduce us to their national cuisine.

“This has really become the meeting place for us,” says Czech Embassy staffer Veronika Musilova, sipping a glass of Staropramen at Czech Pub. “I can’t come here at the weekend without meeting some of my Czech friends,” laughs Veronika, before confessing that some of her mates may even show up later that evening. This was a Monday.

CORRECTION: The following article appears exactly as printed in the Beijinger's November issue. Otaku's management has since pointed out that Otaku should not be linked with Izaka-Ya and Jazz-Ya as part of a "family" of venues, as our article implies. We apologize for any offense caused. 

Otaku follows Spice Factory as the second recent addition to Li Bo’s stable of stylish venues, also including Jazz-Ya, d lounge and Izaka-Ya. It’s as obsessively tasteful as the rest of the family, but gets bashful with manga art and cocktails in bubble tea cups. The quirks won’t wash with everyone, but are minor distractions.

Among expats, one complaint rings louder than the others: It’s damn near impossible to find a decent pair of shoes around here. The local boutiques are oversaturated with manmade “leather” and cheap frills, while the Western brands are practically marked up twofold. Villa Rouge, smack-dab in between Yashow and Steve Madden, is poised to lead the Beijing women’s shoe market in a new direction.

Mere months ago, we reveled in the opening of this Hong Kong boutique in warehouse form. Now Beijing is finally being treated to the real thing. At 20,000 square feet, the China World branch – with two floors of men’s and women’s fashion and a sweeping staircase that looks like it was made for gliding – is the largest and most impressive in the region.

A school friend of mine had a peculiar food foible. He would insist that his baked beans be served apart from his sausage and chips. Far apart, as in a separate bowl. This inconsequential tic lay dormant in my subconscious for years … until I had the dipping ramen (RMB 29-35) at Moon Concubine Izakaya. Noodles, pork, egg and nori in one bowl, soup in another. The menu warns that on no account should you add the soup to the noodles. Presumably doing so would usher in a reign of Akira-esque chaos. Or maybe it’s just something about dulling the texture of the noodles. Cleverly, the soup is thick and salty enough to ensure each dunking imbues a satisfactorily saucy coating. Lots of fun, but they also have regular ramen for you stick-in-the-muds.

Sooner or later (better later), all of us encounter one of those irritating foreigners who speak in an affected, cartoonish hutong croak. You’ll probably run into that guy here. But that’s a risk worth taking, because this looks like it may become a favorite of Gulou regulars. Located at the top of a rickety spiral staircase, this bar and restaurant uses a good space well and serves some good cocktails (RMB 40-50).

In their early days as an experimental folk band, they produced some work that was just as creative as anything by the master, Xiao He – but they never got the same kind of recognition. When avant-garde became “been there, done that,” Low Wormwood’s sound evolved into something much less extreme. Nowadays, they’re known for their amiable, down-to-earth rapport with audiences.

V Club looks like a Sanlitun Bar Street refugee: stripped of her gaudy neon jewelry, shunned by ladybar touts, ultimately nondescript. The service is friendly, but almost everything else feels half-hearted. The cocktail list, in Chinese only, reads simply “short drink” (RMB 50-70) and “long drink” (RMB 70-90). If they can’t be bothered to write the names of any cocktails, why would we bother to order them? The Erdinger (RMB 40) seems the best value among the overpriced beers.

Just another tacky boutique? Not so fast. Yes, there are some objectionable items (bedazzled T-shirts aren’t worth RMB 1,000, no matter how soft) but for the most part, the concept is on point.

A hutong overrun by backpacking tourists and overpriced kitsch seems a peculiar choice of location for a hip Hong Kong brand. However, this carefully curated space manages to capture the original spirit of Nanluogu Xiang: a place reminiscent of traditional Beijing culture, yet infused with an appreciation for growth and creativity.