Back in 2010, Brownstone was just another bar in Surpass Court, a blink-and-you-miss-it compound off Shaanxi Nan Lu. Shanghai was in a different mood back then: peak expat era, a tide of young creatives pouring in, a city buzzing with potential and late-night energy. Surpass Court, tucked in a prime corner of old Xuhui, should've been a hit. But it felt sterile, too polished, like a mall trying to wear vintage boots. Until Lola opened.
Lola was a Spanish nightclub with real swagger: dark, sexy, and undeniably cool. Proper European vibes, a bit of Madrid on Jianguo Xi Lu. Brownstone was the only other place in that courtyard that opened and actually worked. It fed Lola's crowd and carved its own niche.
Jason Cai was there from the start. Not the owner yet, but the operator behind the scenes. He was brand manager at Blue Horizon Group, the same Blue Frog that began as a single burger joint on Maoming Lu, Shanghai's infamous, semi-lawless party street, and exploded into a full-on restaurant empire. Blue Frog was the expat comfort food blueprint before it became a corporate machine. It eventually sold for serious money.
"Bob was my mentor," Jason says of Blue Frog's founder. "I learned everything from him. That you can scale. That you have to care. That you can go big but still keep it personal."
Jason was overseeing both Brownstone and KAAB under the group. When the company sold, he left. Two years later, in 2014, he bought Brownstone back and renamed it Brownstone and renamed it Brownstone Tapas & Bar.
"It was like my baby," he says now. "I had to take it back."
And then he changed everything.
Out went the cocktail and dark leather. In came tapas, jamón, and seafood sizzling in olive oil. Jason repositioned Brownstone as a Spanish restaurant - one of the first of its kind in Shanghai. And not just because tapas were trendy. For him, Spain felt oddly familiar.
It was like my baby. I had to take it back
"Every time I went to Spain, it felt like home," he says. "Wood-fire cooking, seafood from the South Sea, pork, onion, olive oil... It's so close to Chinese taste. Tapas is like Chinese dining - shared, social, flavor-first."
It worked. When they started, there wasn't even a category for Spanish food on Dianping. Now there are dozens of tapas bars - and 15 Brownstone locations across Shanghai. That would be impressive enough, but it's only one slice of Jason's quietly massive F&B group. Under POETS Hospitality, he also runs POETS Thai, a perennially packed Thai spot at West Bund, and GBJ Bistro, a new Guangxi food concept with real regional heat.
What ties them together? No franchising. No discounting. No compromises.
"We don't do Dianping vouchers. We don't do influencer giveaways. We don't do 40%-off coupons. That's suicide," he says. "Instead, we give people double the value. The shrimp is alive. The paella is made from scratch. No central kitchen."
Tapas is like Chinese dining—shared, social, flavor-first.
He learned those lessons the hard way. Before COVID, he built a runaway hit with Musang Seafood, a fast-casual, fisherman-wharf-style concept inspired by Seattle. It exploded: 25 locations in three years. And then, the crash.
"Everyone copied us. The hygiene department came daily. We were so tired," he says. "I asked myself: Do I even like this business? And I realized, no. I don't want fast food. I want to enjoy life."
He shut it down. Every single location. And when COVID hit, he pivoted again.
It's not a normal time. It's wartime.
When Shanghai went into lockdown, most people thought it would last four days. Jason didn't. He looked at the numbers: 600 employees, rent still ticking, and dorm-bound staff who couldn't even get vegetables. Waiting wasn't an option.
He called an emergency meeting. For hours, the team debated: What can we do? What should we do? Jason made the call. "This isn't a normal time," he told them. "It's wartime."
They launched a WeChat mini-program in three days. One staffer snuck out of a protected warehouse and stayed there, living among the inventory. Soon, they had 50 trucks delivering across the city, to embassies, stranded expats, and anyone who couldn't get real food. They slept one hour a night. They made it work.
This is the kind of speed and agility it takes to grow a business in China. While the city paused, Jason's team moved. One day, they pulled in 500,000 RMB in sales. None of the restaurants was even open.
We give people double the value. The shrimp is alive. The paella is made from scratch.
Now, he employs over 600 staff. Some have been with him for more than a decade. He gives long-term employees stock shares, trains dancers and chefs alike, and still personally chooses every new location. "I have to feel the space," he says. "Data matters. But feeling matters more."
His ambition? "I want us to be the number one restaurant and bar group in the world," he says, without blinking. "We're preparing for NASDAQ. Maybe next year."
I want us to be the number one restaurant and bar group in the world.
He's already opened in Tokyo.
So yes, Brownstone is technically a Spanish restaurant. But really, it's something else: a Shanghai-born empire built on instinct, reinvention, and a refusal to cut corners.
Just don't ask for a discount.
