Coffee, in case your wits are too inert to notice (go brew a pot right this second) has reached its tipping point in China. Starbucks has been here for over two decades, but only lately has it found serious traction, expecting to triple its stable of 500 stores over the next three years.

As the Chinese coffee market diversifies, companies are scrambling to find their niche. Not only is this heralding the arrival of the latest American coffee trends (organic, “farm-to-cup” and microroasting) but the emergence of weird and wonderful new retail models that cater to the demands of the local market.

Popcorn chicken in spicy soup? Beans in a sesame and garlic sauce? Err, ‘Zinger’ tofu? Has the whole word gone crazy? Yes, actually. By next week, Little Sheep, the hot pot chain with 458 restaurants in China and a scattering in the US, will be a “93.2% wholly owned unit of US-based Yum! Brands,” the Louisville Kentucky based owners of KFC, Pizza Hut and Taco Bell. The takeover deal, ongoing for some time and valued at around USD 580 million, apparently represents the first time a US company has purchased a Chinese food brand.

Bianyifang might be Beijing’s oldest duck roasters, but long have they lurked in the feathery shadow of another time-honored brand. One hundred and fifty years ago, Quanjude took the former’s fowl, crisped the skin over a fruit-wood flame and rolled it in pancakes. They haven’t looked back since.

Perhaps they ought to, for the granddaddies appear to be making a comeback. This shiny new branch of Bianyifang can seat around 400 diners (and that’s less than half the capacity of the restaurant they opened at Qianmen last year).

Enjoying the holiday? Fireworks were pretty spectacular on Sunday. They looked better than ever after a dozen glasses of Great Leap beer. It’s a quiet time for news, unsurprisingly. Between Sunday night and Monday morning, 5,000 intrepid sanitation workers cleaned up 170 tons of fireworks debris – so well done, guys. Good job. There’s still quite a bit bunched up in the corners on my alley though, so if you could send a couple of your peeps over, that would be great.

It doesn’t seem that long ago I was making wildly enthusiastic faces about Dali Renjia (my mouth was really full). But in the breakneck world of Beijing chow, chefs move on, places are sold, prices and salt levels rise. Soon enough, your order of tudou wan comes daubed in ketchup.

Thankfully, you can’t keep a good idea down. Wen Juan, one of the former Dali Renjia owners, has opened Haney right across the street.

Move over, CourtYard – there’s a new “romantic fine-dining in historic setting” restaurant set to steal your guidebook crown. But Temple Restaurant Beijing (TRB), run by former Maison Boulud GM Ignace Lecleir, is too lovely for mere tourists. The dining room itself is housed in a modern annex. However, tall windows capture the astonishing site, just outside of a hitherto forgotten, centuries-old Buddhist temple.

Following on from the runaway success of this week’s Poutine in the Hutongs post (phew!), here’s another dish sure to startle and delight homesick foreigners – Germans, this time. Beijing has a smattering of Teutonic eateries serving sausages, pickled cabbage and pork knuckle of varying authenticity and price (Schindler’s Tanskstelle, Paulaner Brauhaus, Hopfenstube – though my German foodie pal reckons Der Landgraf in the south is the runaway winner). But for all your Bavarian favourites – served up at once – you need only head to your nearest and dearest Dongbei eatery. Frauleins and, err, whatever is German for men (curse you, English secondary school system) – I give you … zanjia suancai zhaopai dahui cai.

Poutine. A dish this eater knew little of before Beijing, which is, admittedly, an unlikely city to find folks obsessive over fries swamped in gravy and cheese curds. Nevertheless, the Montreal-born snack has acquired a sort of cult status here because it's hard to find. Folks in the know will send homesick Canucks to The Box (RMB 35, previously co-run by a Canadian but it’s still on the menu), Grinders (RMB 45), or American Steak & Eggs (RMB 29). But there’s another, better option … from a Chinese restaurant! And it’s been here all along.

The boiled dumpling, a meaty staple of billions, is wrapped and wolfed down with gusto in northern China at this time of year. Whilst we salute its steamy, pillowy simplicity, if you’re nursing a Dragon-sized hangover, there’s something lacking. Grease. Yep, as the saying goes in the land of the lardy, if you can’t beat it, fry it.

Chef Jun Trinh – you may remember him from such food ventures as Luga’s Pho Pho, or ad-ventures like his TV show on China’s Travel Channel where he tours the country and beyond seeking culinary recipes and inspiration. His first solo F&B project in Beijing, 4corners, is in the making, housed in what used to be The Orange Tree close to Gulou and Houhai Lake.