Stop pretending you like Beijing’s buildings or Nanjing’s food– you’re Shanghai-ning now, so start acting like one. Here’s your guide to turning Shanghainese, from eating the best local food to bargaining like a true Shanghai ayi

Authentic Eats

Check out the city's less well known Shanghainese dishes

When it comes to Shanghainese food, many laowais stick to familiar favorites like hong shao rou, xiaolongbao and, of course, hairy crabs. But, if that’s all you’re ordering, you’re missing out, declares Shanghainese chef Anthony Zhao who has worked with some of the biggest hotels in Shanghai (see sidebar for more on Zhao's background)

Zhao’s first suggestion is a light, healthy sampling of wild vegetables with fragrant tofu (ye cai xiang gan 野菜香干 at Yuan Yuan). This dish became popular during the hard times of the ‘60s, when impoverished Shanghai residents turned to their surroundings for their nutrient needs. In this dish, wild greens and minced tofu are tossed with sesame oil and salt for a light, clean taste. “It’s healthy and perfect for vegetarians,” Zhao explains.

Zhao's more adventurous suggestions include braised herring liver (qing yu tu fe 青鱼秃肺 at Lao Zheng Xing) and shredded eel (xiang you shan si 响油鳝丝 at Hong Rui Xing). The braised herring liver dish originated from the Shanghainese fascination with Chinese medicine. Legend has it that well-versed customers at a popular ‘30s seafood restaurant approached the chef with a question: why waste the fish liver? The liver, they explained, was known in Chinese medicine for its nourishing benefits. The chef agreed to experiment and slowly cooked the herring liver with soy sauce, chicken broth and bamboo shoots.

Today, this under-appreciated dish is soft and deliciously fatty without being greasy. Plus, it does wonders for the yin, says Zhao. The shredded eel satisfies locals’ desire for strong flavors and thick sauces with garlic, soy and sweet tones. The thin eels are shredded into long, thin strips. After the eel is cooked, the chef adds extra garlic and oil to the center of the dish and turns the heat on high, intensifying those flavors. A sprinkling of white pepper creates the dish’s heat. It’s best eaten with rice or noodles to soak up the intense flavors, as Zhao says, “It can get a little greasy.”

Shanghainese like to eat their meat slowly, savoring every bite. That might be why they prefer their chicken with bones (ji gu jiang 鸡骨酱 at Lan Ting). These bite-sized portions are covered in a thick soy sauce base, punctuated with a fermented bean curd paste. “The best sauce is very dark and very flavorful,” Zhao says.

Another favorite, especially around the Chinese New Year, is the cold dish salty chicken (xian ji 咸鸡 at Jesse Restaurant). The recipe calls for free range, organic chicken because of the thinner skin and more flavorful meat. The preparation is simple: the chicken is boiled in salty water. The dish’s popularity harkens back to the days when chicken was an expensive rarity in the city, and only eaten on special occasions–a situation that persisted until the '90s. Zhao speculates with a laugh: "Maybe that’s why KFC is so popular here.”

As the cold winter months drag on, perhaps the best Shanghainese dish to try is pork and bamboo shoot soup (yan du xian 腌笃鲜 at Chun). This hearty soup is made from fresh pork shoulder, cured pork, winter bamboo and knots of tofu skins. The ingredients, simmered together, “make this soup so delicious,” Zhao says. In the winter, it’s a common sight on any Shanghai dinner table, and locals eagerly slurp up the warm, fortifying broth.

■ Kellie Schmitt

Dining Expert, Chef Anthony Zhao:
Zhao, a born and bred Shanghainese, has worked with some of the most prestigious restaurants and brands in Shanghai, from the Ritz Portman and Laris to Chez Panisse. Now he’s working as a restaurant consultant, food stylist and launching his own catering company. You might also spot him on local cooking shows as a celebrity chef.

Shanghai Soul

Exploring Shanghainese Culture (sanghei venho), from the language to the arts

Shanghainese are a contentious, if cautious, crowd, and definitions of what constitutes both Haipai (海派, Shanghai Style) and “New Haipai” range significantly. The term Haipai originated with literary and artistic modernization movements over a century ago, but took on a life of its own to describe all forms of culture considered typical of Shanghai.

The most well-known incarnation was ‘40s scribe Zhang Ailing, iconic for her descriptions of urban life and the quirky Shanghainese character. Zhang’s modern literary successor Wang Anyi also portrays the finicky Shanghainese, most famously in 长恨歌 (Chang Hen Ge), or Song of Everlasting Sorrow, now available in English translation.

Haipai is generally associated with lane life, speaking Wu (Shanghainese is a dialect of the Wu language), exploring the “petty urbanite” (as Shanghainese jokingly refer to themselves) sensibility and is considered rooted in the Wu- Yue or Jiangnan culture of eastern China. “In Jiangnan, [the people] reference water, tend to be a bit feminine and care about the individual–it can be soft,” describes Jiang Yipeng, a Shanghainese galleryist now living in Beijing. She adds that many of Shanghai’s immigrant artists come via the China Academy of Fine Art in Hangzhou.

Peng Xiaolian, an acclaimed Haipai film director, laments that many young Shanghai natives now only speak Mandarin (and English): “But I think Shanghainese is more trendy now. That is why [we] are proud of [famous Wu-speaking, Haipai slapstick comedian] Zhou Libo. Outsiders hate Shanghainese, think we are too proud, so we are embarrassed. He was the first to speak out proudly, to say we can be proud to be Shanghainese [without it being a bad thing].”

“Shanghainese have gone from arrogance to embarrassment to a new protectiveness,” adds Jiang.

“Now, we have people who are popular who feel it is important to protect Shanghainese, because schools do not allow it to be used as an official language. So there is a movement led by people like Zhou Libo.”

Up till a few years ago, xiawuning, or countryside people, was a popular derisive adjective for things and people alike, but it has since been shooed from the common parlance. Peng suggests that the stereotypical Shanghainese snobbery with a reputation for superficial Westernization has receded, replaced by a healthier confidence and pride. “A lot of people have immigrated to Shanghai. Most of them, especially the white collars, graduated from universities here but are not Shanghainese and don't speak the dialect. But now they are not poor, and you cannot look down on them. Shanghai has changed a lot.”

Echoes Jiang, “In the ’80s, if you didn’t speak Shanghainese, it was hard to get by in Shanghai. Now there are a lot of New Shanghainese, and their position is high.”

What has not changed about Shanghainese culture is the linglong (玲珑)-ness of Haipai : a focus on exquisite detail, perfection and precision, be it in film or art or music, along with a focus on the personal, intimate and familiar, rather than the broad, politicized strokes of northern China.

“I just think that movies should be more literary, not with simple characters and not fictional, but reflecting real life,” muses Peng, who has refused to move to the Northern film capital. “I have tried to work with Beijing people, but it is difficult to immigrate to another culture, even if all in China. In Beijing, people’s working relationships are very difficult. I think Beijingers are more warm, and Shanghainese are more rational. Beijingers are easy to get close to quickly; Shanghainese keep their distance, but when they say yes they mean it. In Beijing, people say yes but mean no. Beijingers are easy to be friends with; Shanghainese are easy to work with.”

Peng’s films are among the only ones made about Shanghai by a Shanghai-based director. The award-winning Shanghai Story (美丽上海) saw a local family battle old ghosts around the hearth of a typical, muchsubdivided old mansion. “[Shanghai Story] talks pretty much about a house as a living space–it is very important to people’s life in Shanghai. A house is like a stage,” Peng suggests. Her touching Shanghai Women (假装没感觉) saw a Shanghainese mother and daughter pinged around property arrangements by a succession of personal dilemmas. “I explore people’s emotion and relations in the city, and its culture,” Peng says. “My films seem Shanghainese because I am native Shanghainese, and my movies are very low budget films so I can’t afford to pay somebody to write the script, so I write them myself. It is easy for me to write about Shanghai.”

Jiang describes Shanghainese contemporary art as, “very independent, and very cool. Their works can be very zhai (Shanghainese for finicky, precise), but their vision is very big.” As for the artists most typically Shanghainese, she lists Xu Zhen, Ding Yi, Song Tao and Yang Fudong. Yang, while a Beijing native, is an aficionado of Old Shanghai film and literature, and his works are more noticeably Haipai than most Shanghai-born artists. “A lot of immigrant artists to Shanghai change into Shanghai artists, and very much assume the Shanghai flavor, which is very sentimental, very introspective.”

In indie music as well, Shanghai bands’ styles are deliciously diverse, from pop to hip-hop to some that defy description. The signature sound changes with the band du jour. However, the over 100 original bands here, New Shanghainese included, all retain that meticulousness with quality and precision, plus that sentimental introspectiveness. Favorites like Topfloor Circus and Candy Shop would make Zhou Libo blush with their bawdily comic antics and Wu-singing performances, but musicians like other Shanghainese have gotten adept at expressing their Haipai linglong-ness in Mandarin, English, German, Japanese or whatever as much as in Shanghainese.

■ Lisa Movius

Film Director Peng Xiaolian:
Lauded director, screen writer and author, Peng constantly returns to explore her native city, Shanghai, in her films. Other distinctly Shanghai movies by this Beijing Film Academy graduate include: Once Upon a Time in Shanghai (1998) and Shanghai Rumba (2006). You can buy Shanghai Women and Shanghai Story with English subtitles online or at DVD stores.

Party People

Pose, pout, drink, dance, sing and hit the town like a local rockstar

Partying Shanghai-style isn't hard, says Puppy Zhu, PR assistant at In the Cut and local scenester. What's essential, of course, is to aoshaoxhin (拗造型, Shanghainese for 'get dressed up'). If you're looking to pose or pull, hit up Richy, any of the Muses, JJ2 or, increasingly, No.88.

"Shanghainese always go out in groups. Get a table then call more friends to join you," Zhu says. The first half of the night is spent sitting and drinking, and we all know what locals like. "Chivas or Black Label. Possibly vodka. Mix with Coke, soda or green tea, if you don't like the taste of the alcohol,” according to Zhu. But at Richy it's all about Champagne. “People like it there because the waiters stay by your table and pour your Champagne for you," she says. Posing is, of course, even more important than partying.** But Zhu dispels the myth that local guys don't dance. "Once you're drinking, no one cares how they look any more. Everyone dances."

Girls, start dancing at the table–feet rooted to the spot, head bobbing, staring up through false eyelashes. Then gravitate in groups to the dancefloor where, if you’ve been following our instructions, you’ll find yourself dancing to commercial hip-hop. If you find yourself dancing to any other type of music, you’re in the wrong club.

Zhu says it’s common to hit a few spots a night. “But, at about 4am, you should go for food. The Cantonese restaurants along Maoming Lu are popular. They stay open 24-hours and are packed with locals at 6am.”

Cashbox and Haoledi are the most popular KTV chains for Shanghainese. The routine is the same as the club: get a room, a bottle of scotch and some green tea, and do your best Jay Chou.

With all this private table, private room stuff, how do you hook up like a local? “Usually we don’t meet with random guys on the dancefloor,” says Zhu, “because most of them will try to get too close to you at the beginning. If we find some friends on the dancefloor, we'll invite them to our table for a drink. But hooking up with random people is rare.”

However, Zhu says Shanghainese girls are becoming more aggressive. “You'll now see girls approaching guys (撩汤, liao tang, literally “scooping soup”) as well as guys approaching girls (撩菜, liao cai, literally “scooping vegetable”). But those who just sit looking moody and smoking cigarettes, waiting for girls to come up and talk to them–that won’t work anywhere.”

■ Nick Taylor

Party Girl Puppy Zhu:
When not sprawled on the sofas at M1NT or Richie, Puppy Zhu is an assistant at In the Cut, a local PR and marketing firm that works with brands such as Guess, Puma, Orsay and Sergio Rossi. Like all good Shanghainese party people, she gets her kicks from hip-hop and heels, never touches techno and can be seen sipping Champagne at the city's hottest openings and events.

Fashionably Yours

China's trendiest citizens

It’s fitting that Shanghai is at the forefront of modern Chinese fashion. Shanghai has always been the fashionable, cosmopolitan daughter to conservative mother China–think the iconic, undeniably sexy qipao.

Helen Lee, the Shanghainese designer for popular local label insh, says that though being fashionable is extremely important to Shanghairen, the definition of fashionable is not so simple. She claims that Shanghai style is “a mixture of everything," a kaleidoscope of the traditional elements, expensive brands, Western labels and the very low end, such as Qipu Lu.

Though Lee boasts that foreigners can look to Shanghainese– “China’s best dressed citizens”–for sartorial guidance, she also thinks that expats can learn just as much about what not to wear by examining locals’ most common fashion crimes. For example, mixing patterns or logo overdose: “The most horrible thing is to wear all the big brands at once. They just want to show off their rich status.” And, on Shanghai’s endearing (but declining) quirk, pajamas, Lee exclaims, “On one hand, [this habit] is one sign of traditional Chinese people’s view, but I still think some things should be changed. I agree with the government. You can’t wear these outside because these are pajamas!”

So what are the hot trends now? Dapper Shanghainese men bundle up with circle scarves while women young and old pay tribute to the '80s legacy with stirrup leggings. Need a choice Shanghainese phrase to bust out when complimenting a fashion-forward friend? Try nong lao you dai yin ng (侬老有台型额)–an approving nod to a person's fashion sense.

If you’re looking to achieve a modern Shanghai look without that teeny-bopper feel, try out the creations of Shanghainese designers. Lee suggests hitting up Taikang Lu boutiques, as “many of the Chinese designers [there] have great designs.” She also recommends the label SZBR available at HEYAN'ER by another local designer, He Yan Er, who deconstructs traditional Chinese garments into modernized, edgy pieces.

■ Hart Hagerty

Fashion Designer Helen Lee:
Founder of local label insh, Lee is one of the emerging talents on Shanghai’s burgeoning fashion scene. Upon graduating from renowned fashion institute Lasalle International Design College, Lee moved to Japan to learn about the design business from Japanese fashion houses. After three years, she returned to Shanghai and started her own brand. The designer continues to be influenced by her native Shanghai.

Shopping Guru

How to bargain like a Shanghai ayi

Shopping and Shanghai go hand in hand, but you're not a Shanghai shopper until you learn how to get the absolute lowest price for everything. We turned to seasoned Shanghainese shopper Wang ayi for shopping tips and Shanghainese phrases applicable all over town.

“Never, never let the seller feel you need the item,” says Wang. Look around the shop and show your interest in some other items. “If the seller follows you around, simply answer ngu jiou koe jo (我就看交), which means ‘I’m just looking.’” If the seller is persistent about price offer, slowly walk away. Half of the time this prompts the seller to offer the se gen ga (杀根价), the absolute lowest price).

Comparing prices between stores and stalls is crucial. “Prices vary between stalls even in the same wet market, let alone stores in the same neighborhood. If you don’t compare the prices, you’re considered a 冲头 (cong dou) or 寿头 (sou dou). Both of them mean someone who is gullible.” To show that you know the market, try ngu lin hang jin (我领行情), which means “I know the market very well”. If the seller still doesn't come around, reply nong dang ngu yang boe (侬当我洋盘)–a more sarcastic phrase that expresses the same meaning.

Timing also plays a big part, Wang reveals. Go to the wet markets about an hour before they close. At that time, sellers are more likely to cut prices down. But she cautions that the pickings will be slimmer, so you’ll have to be doubly careful in evaluating the quality of the goods.

■ Tracy You

Wang Ayi:
Seasoned housekeeper, wife, mother and City Weekend's very own office cleaning whiz and daily bringer of fresh fruits, Wang ayi is a typical Shanghainese shopper. A bargaining pro, Wang knows where to go to get the best quality merchandise for the lowest possible price.