I’ve partaken in a few food challenges in my life. The first, when I was 15, was at summer camp, when I decided to eat as much pizza at dinner as I could (final tally: 9 slices). The next summer, in the rural Costa Rican mountains, a woman had prepared a local meal for my group (still one of the best I’ve ever eaten in my life), so my 6’2” muscular Costa Rican guide and I had an eat-off. I ‘lost’ with four platefuls to his five, though there was no losing with food like that.

Hunky Costa Ricans aside, I’ve had almost no luck finding people (who don’t outweigh me by at least 30 pounds of muscle) who can eat as least as much as I can. I’ve casually out-eaten most people I’ve met, with the exception of one. And she’s nearly a food shorter than I am.

Annetta and I met during our semester abroad in Beijing, and, along with three other voracious eaters, formed the 肥猪队(feizhu dui) or‘fat pig club.’ We had many debates about who was the fei-est of the zhus.Though if asked to consider it honestly, and I promise I’m not bragging, I venture that it came down to a tie, that vacillated either way, between me and Annetta.

This weekend, she came down from Beijing for a weekend of Shanghai eating. I knew it would be a caloric feizhu reunion, but I didn’t realize that, in fact, it would be a reunion of much fei-er proportions. Without telling me, Annetta brought along a beloved feizhu:

Tianqi (pronounced teeyan chee) was my roommate in Beijing, and is, to the agreement of almost all, pretty much The Greatest Roommate Ever. I grew very close with her and her family (my China parents), and though we’ve kept in touch these two years, I haven’t made it to Beijing yet, and I’ve really missed her.

That Annetta’s a schemer!

We met up around noon on Saturday, when Annetta, Tianqi, and Annetta’s friend Brian picked my up from my hostel and whisked me away to lunch. Brian lives in Shanghai and works at Microsoft, but really, he thrives on screwing with people. (So maybe Microsoft is the perfect place for him? Just sayin’…Mac user here)

Luckily, Brian is also an eater (we would expect nothing less from a friend of Annetta’s!), so on his recommendation, we headed to a little Shaoxing-style restaurant. We left the ordering to Brian, and in almost no time, the food started coming. First, some anise-flavored broad beans and cold ningbo greens.

Because this is the feizhu dui, the cameras clicked before the chopsticks did.

Some fatty pork with funny greens and bok choi in a basic mushroom sauce quickly followed, and hot on it’s heels, chicken.

The food was all well and fine, but then. Oh—THEN.

That is not just any steamed fish, my friends. Oh no, it is so much more. For beneath the fish lay a layer of salty ham. And cradling either side of the fish were two steamed eggs, yolks intact. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen fish and eggs in one dish before. And the addition of ham just made it celestial. Two minutes later…

Gone, right? Oh-ho, no. At that moment, Annetta reaffirmed her feizhu credentials.

THAT, my friends, is what eating is all about. Moderation and manners be damned!

Even sucking fish spines dry will not satiate the true feizhu, for there must be dessert!

I don’t remember what this is called, but it’s a hot, sweet, clear soup made with some of the famous Shaoxing wine, and floating around inside are little chewy balls of glutinous rice flour.

After stuffing ourselves we headed to a nearby Confucius temple. Annetta and Confucius are likethis. While in Beijing, we took a weekend trip to a little tiny town called Qufu, where Confucius, known here as kongzi, lived.

Weather-wise, this is a pretty unbearable time of year to be existing, let alone walking around in the sun. But this is how the feizhus work up an appetite. We wound through traditional Shanghai housing, passing many food vendors and dodging hanging laundry.

After a few dead ends, we ended up at the old section of Shanghai, where I took my parents when they were here.

And what do you think we did when we got there?

We started with an order of chou doufu, or, Stinky Tofu, which is brined and fermented, then fried up and served in a variety of regional styles. Most foreigners cannot stand the smell of it, likening it to garbage, manure, or old socks. While old socks may be fairly accurate, the odor doesn’t have the human element of sweat. You know how things like horseradish will clear your sinuses? In my opinion, chou doufu achieves the opposite. It kind of clings in your cavities, like pungent fermenting dairy. I actually don’t mind it, and obviously, neither did my friends.

And then we moved on to other fried delights of the crustacean variety, which my parents ate during their visit:

After a snack, it was time to decide on dinner plans. (I kid you not, we went straight from snack mode to meal mode. The common answer to “What do you want to do next?” was “Well, what do we want to eat?”) We decided that, if we went then (it was nearly 5), we could get into Shanghai Uncle, a popular culinary tasty spot and another Brian rec, without a reservation. It wasn’t too far away, so we walked.

Annetta and Tianqi couldn’t let the 20 minutes pass without ingesting something, so they both got some bubble teas. Brian and I went the re-hydration route, wisely saving room for dinner at the same time.

We got into Shanghai Uncle no problem, and quickly discovered that there was a wedding in progress.

Throughout the ceremony, the groom looked incredibly unhappy.

“I’ll bet he’s thinking about the lady in the massage parlor right now,” said Brian. “It’s nice to see you don’t take a cynical attitude towards marriage,” I replied.

There was also some speculation on his part as to whether this was a shotgun wedding.

Either way, the groom looked as though he was enduring. Barely.

The wedding was a nice distraction until our food arrived. For cold dishes, we had sweet lotus root stuffed with sticky rice, one of my favorites.

Some cold, sweet-ish, chewy wheat gluten.

Funky yellow rolls of some kind.

And some absolutely astounding barbequed fish. I’ve never tasted anything like it—sweet, crisp, charred yumminess.

Soon, our basket of xiaolong bao, the famous soup dumplings, arrived.

Annetta is a notorious xiaolong bao fanatic. In Beijing, where it is nearly impossible to find authentic xiaolong bao (most have insufficient soup inside), Annetta launched into multiple tirades against the injustice of inauthentic, non-soup-filled xialong bao.

But she had no reason to complain of these. But I was distracted by what came next. OH—NEXT. The best thing I ate all weekend.

Ribs. Beef ribs stewed for so long the meat dripped from the bones. Covered in a sweet, tangy sauce, the meat literally melted upon contact with my tongue. It reminded me a bit of brisket, but so much meltier, I just wanted to rub my face and tongue all over the plate until not a drip of sauce, nor a scrap of meat, was left. But you know, people would have stared, and I didn’t want to ruin the bride’s big day.

Next came out this crispy fish, swimming in a pool of spicy oil and sliced onions.

We were not expecting the spice, and were delightfully surprised.

We also ordered a dish of greens, but who wants to photograph the healthy stuff? There’s no dish-licking fantasy with that one.

Pregnant with food babies, we all waddled out for a stroll to the Bund. But when we got there, we found that the observation side of the street was closed off for renovation in anticipation of the 2010 Shanghai World Expo.

Thawarted, we headed down Nanjinglu, street of infinite neon lights and people surrounding every foreigner with chants of “Watch bag watch bag shoes DVD.”

This girl was workin’ it.

From there we moved on to foot massages, during which Brian repeatedly informed his masseuse that he was a Sichuanese monkey. Actually, he made this assertion many times throughout the weekend, and the hilarity never wore off. Chinese people can tell he knows what he’s saying, but having a very white laowai say, with a straight face, that he’s a Sichuanese monkey and only eats bananas, can be a bit difficult for them to reconcile. Laowai say the darndest things!

Eventually, we ended up at a little bar/lounge place called People’s 7, which, Brian claims, has the best restrooms in the city, and therefore reason enough to go. We had some drinks.

Annetta got Tiramisu.

And one by one, we checked out the bathrooms, which were nice but not all that spectacular, save one detail: when you pulled the door handle, the door wouldn’t open. One of them opened onto a mirror. They wouldn’t push open either. It’s up to the patrons to figure out. Luckily, I didn’t have to exert too much brainpower, because another patron who was there the same time I was discovered that you have to push on the other side of the door, the side that appears to be the hinge side. Aren’t they clever…

The next day, we headed to Southern Barbarian, which is supposedly the best Yunnan restaurant, for brunch. We started with some cold eggplant and tomato dish, which tasted right out of the Mediterranean.

A mint salad with chili dressing. (It was a little strange to eat straight mint.)

Fried cheese.

Another whole fish, but this one wasn’t nearly as enticing as the other two.

Pomegranate flowers with greens.

There was also a mushroom dish in there I forgot to photograph, but that’s because I was distracted by this:

No, it’s not Gerber. This is mashed broad beans with ham leg. Oh, so salty and mushy. There may have been face-to-plate fantasies again.

And then some stewed eel with mint. A much better use of the mint.

Later we headed to the other side of the Bund.

But it was so unbearably hot and humid, that we instead went into a nearby mall for a taste of authentic Shanghai: Cold Stone ice cream. After another massage, it was time to part ways, but the adventure’s not over yet! I’ve booked tickets to Beijing for next Thursday, the 30th, for three full days of face-to-plate eating in Beijing. I’ll be staying with Tianqi and her parents, which is exciting not only because they’re like my family, but also because her father is the most fabulous home cook I’ve ever encountered in China, and that is not an exaggeration.

I’ve already begun starving myself in anticipation.

Tags: feizhus, Shanghai, temples, travel