Eating My Way Through Nanjing: A Journey Of Flavor, Courage, And Surprise

After spending about a month in Shanghai, my bones had that familiar aching feeling that meant it was time to hit the road once again. I was too comfortable in the city I now knew well and played things too safe. I wasn’t using my Chinese enough, and the luxuries of Western living were all within reach in the “Paris of the Orient”. My four day trip to Nanjing was a return back to the real China; a place nearly void of all foreigners.

I decided to travel via conventional train from Shanghai to Nanjing. Nowadays, almost all large cities in China have high-speed bullet train connections. They are extremely comfortable and fast, and are therefore the obvious choice for most foreigners. Being as cheap as I am, I opted for the lowest bracket of Chinese intercity travel: the hard seat on the slow train. The moment I stepped inside my train cabin, I attracted a wave of attention from passengers. In Shanghai, foreigners don’t turn many heads, as the city is home to 150,000+ expats. The passengers in these cabins, however, are not used to seeing pasty redheads very often. The snickering and grinning upon my arrival would follow me throughout my travels around China. Nearly every city in China has its own specialty foods (特产). They are common knowledge among Chinese people, who are the most frequent tourists you will encounter when traveling outside of the major attractions of Beijing and Xi’an. Just as most Americans know Chicago has deep dish pizza, Chinese people will tell you about Guilin’s rice noodles or Nanjing’s duck blood soup. Part of traveling outside of Shanghai was to push myself out of my culinary comfort zone as well and try the specialties each city has to offer. 

Claypot Soup (砂锅) and Potstickers (锅贴)

I have a system for choosing where to eat when I’m in Asia, largely centered around avoiding stomach issues for the umpteenth time. I pick restaurants that have lots of people, primarily locals. This points to authentic food, but also high turnover of ingredients so things don’t stand around too long. The place should also look modest, with relatively few photos of the food. When the waitress brings over a giant book o’ food pics, you know you’re screwed. Finally, I only go cheap and choose items cooked at high temperature (no sushi for me in China). I stumbled upon a restaurant which checked all the boxes near the city’s famous Xuanwu Park (玄武湖). The staff was absolutely shocked when I entered and basically collapsed on the floor in surprise and admiration when they found out I spoke Chinese. An old man, who seemed to be the patron of the restaurant, showed me to my seat and treated me like royalty. He hovered over me while the food was being prepared, concentrating all his attention on me and ready to jump into action at any request. Every time we made eye contact, he hunched forward, raising his hands next to his face in a sign of humbleness and gratitude while nodding furiously. Needless to say, I felt thoroughly embarrassed at this display of importance.

The claypot soup was a fantastic bubbling bone broth cauldron of beef cubes, mushrooms, tofu, bok choy, lettuce, and red pepper. It’s the best soup I’ve had in China and is far superior to the fanatically revered and totally overrated hot pot (controversial opinion but I stand by it). The potstickers were so radically different from the ones we have in the U.S. that I didn’t even realize that’s what they were until I translated the Chinese name into English (pot glue). If I’m not mistaken, the dough was corn-based and reminded me of a Chinese-style tortilla. I chose one stuffed with shredded beef fried in a bowl skillet. When I told the old man how much I liked the food, he waved his hands and shouted, “No, no, no, no! You flatter us! 过奖！”. Even the cooks came out and thanked me. It was a really sweet and hilariously over-the-top dining experience. And the food was some of the best I’ve ever had in China!

Nanjing Sweets

These gelatinous rice flour cakes, called sweet osmanthus cakes (桂花糕), are found all over Nanjing. They served as great hiking snacks when I wandered around the Purple Mountain national park. 

The following dessert might be scary-looking, but it is decadently sweet and delicious. It is common in the south of China, but supposedly originates from Nanjing (at least that what the sellers told me).

They remove the seeds of a lotus root, stuff sticky rice into the seed holes, and then cover it with a rich, golden-brown honey syrup. This is by far my favorite Chinese dessert.

Duck Blood Soup

The real specialty that Nanjing is known for, the one I dreaded but knew I needed to try, is the duck blood soup (鸭血粉丝汤).

I went with a new Chinese friend I met at my hostel, and we only needed to walk a few minutes before finding the first hole-in-the-wall selling the soup. My friend, who used to study in Nanjing, told me that the soup also included duck stomach, intestines, and liver. I didn’t sign up for that, but there was no backing out now!

Although I dreaded the blood part the most, it was okay! The gelatinous strands were relatively flavorless but did leave a residual texture in my mouth that reminded me of spinach. Maybe this is due to the high concentration of iron in both? The stomach and intestines were also doable; chewy but palatable. What activated my gag reflexes, however, was the boiled duck liver. It was grey and chalky, and crumbled into a heap of putrid mush with every reluctant bite. Its nauseating flavor reminded me of halitosis (pardon the mental image). But, I finished off most of the bowl, and my stomach didn’t even reject these new avian organs. The soup might have been a one-off for me, but it sure is popular among locals! When I said goodbye to Nanjing and headed to the Yellow Mountains, I noticed that the Nanjing train station had a KFC, a McDonald’s, and a duck blood soup spot. Time to take this dish global!