A local food critic recently wrote that Shanghai is a city of great dishes, but inconsistent restaurants. Indeed Shanghai's menus can be unpredictable, but Shanghai's diners are easily seduced, not only by those great dishes, but by hype as well. We stand in the cold, waiting to squeeze into a tiny restaurant solely for their famous
hong shao rou, and we'll wait hours with half the population of Shanghai just to dine on cheap Sichuan food in a trendy environment.
The competition between Shanghai's major Hunan restaurants serves as a paradigm to our frivolous dining habits. When you think of
Di Shui Dong, you think
Zi ran pai gu. Ask any diner why they make repeat visits to this busy restaurant -- whose kitchen, of late, has been very inconsistent -- and they will begin with an ode to those greasy, cumin-covered ribs. Over at
Gu Yi, the most prevalent characteristic is the swanky crowd. The food at Gu Yi isn't bad, it's a step above Di Shui Dong, but attracting the crowd is as much the exclusive, glitzy atmosphere as it is the food.
Located north of downtown, in Hongkou District,
Guo Yuan is roundly ignored by whatever hype machines create grand awards for "Best Hunan Restaurant." This restaurant is not a chain, and its humble location besides a highway exit ramp does not lend itself attention, but I still find myself waiting for a table with every frequent visit.

The first time I went to Guo Yuan was on account of a single dish.
Shuang jiao yu tou (Ë«½·ÓãÍ·) (pictured) is Guo Yuan's drawing card, and deservedly so. A whole fish head (larger, and with more meat than I've experienced at other Hunanese restaurants) is sliced in half and steamed in its own juices with a light oil; it is served under a pair of brightly colored, chopped spices,
qing jiao (preserved green pepper) and
hong jiao (red pepper), both receiving equal attention atop separate sides of the fish head to create the colorful aesthetic common in the presentation of China's spicy cuisines. The dish offers as much diversity in flavor as it does color: on one half of the fish head,
hong jiao offers the more direct spice common in many Hunan dishes; while on the other side,
qing jiao delivers an unsuspecting, slightly sweet spice, and in the end, is the spicier pepper, and the reason you'll constantly be ordering beer.
The ability for this one dish to display such a complexity of flavor and color will really make it an eye-opener for newcomers to Hunan food.
Though
shuang jiao yu tou is the most popular dish at Guo Yuan, you won't see it sitting on everyone's table. Part of the reason for this is the expansive menu, and Guo Yuan offers one of the widest selections of Hunan cusine in town. A favorite of mine is
suan la tang (ËáÀ±ÌÀ) hot and sour soup. Guo Yuan's
suan la tang is of a thicker consistency than is usual at most Hunan restaurants, but it is a slightly stronger flavoring of
zhu xie, pork blood, that gives the soup more intensity, and makes it more delicious than elsewhere. Not to be ignored either is
nong jia xiao chao rou (Å©¼ÒС³´Èâ), a particularly spicy dish consisting simply of juicy, thinly sliced stir-fried pork; large cuts of spicy green pepper; and the slight hint of black bean sauce.
The rest of the menu covers a lot of spicy ground: from
zi ran niu rou (×ÎȻţÈâ), fried beef slices served with the same spicy cumin that covers Di Shui Dong's ribs; to
shen xian dou fu (ÉñÏɶ¹¸¯), firm, partially serrated tofu served with big chunks of red pepper; all the way to slices of spicy donkey meat (tastes similar to pastrami) served in a small hot pot,
gan guo lu rou (¸É¹øÂ¹Èâ). All of these were delicious. The vegetables are more basic Hunan restaurant fair, from
tu dou si (ÍÁ¶¹Ë¿), shredded and salted potatoes with red pepper, to
you mai cai (ÓÍÂó²Ë), a mysterious long-leafed green vegetable, appropriately served with red pepper..
I ordered
zi ran pai gu at Guo Yuan and I didn't even recognize the dish. It looked nothing like the stack of ribs served at Di Shui Dong and Gu Yi -- it really couldn't have been more than a plate of bones. The problem here, and at many Chinese restaurants, is that they have menus that are too large for their kitchen to properly manage. Because there is such enthusiasm for one great dish, they put most of their energy (and fresh ingredients) into it.
Gan guo lu rou was listed among fifteen other meat dishes in a menu ten pages long, it was an impulsive pick, but it ended up being a great dish. I ordered
zi ran pai gu from the same page, and I got a disappointing dish. In most Chinese restaurants, its best to stick with famous dishes and the waiter's recommendations -- most people follow this formula, and it keeps restaurants serving one famous dish crowded.
But when ordering seven dishes costs less than 200rmb, why not gamble a bit, you might be surprised.