The King of Carb Variations: How Northern-Style Are Nanjing Breakfasts?

Nanjing, an ancient capital of six dynasties, a city steeped in Republican-era charm, a place where no duck can escape, and a popular tourist destination with the Qinhuai River's shimmering lights and paddle sounds... Yet little known is that Nanjing is also the most northern-style eating city in the south. For breakfast, you can indulge in hearty carbs and meats or savor sweet and savory soups. This ancient city crafts rice and wheat dishes into countless varieties, many with a culinary heritage spanning millennia.

How many hidden gustatory delights can we discover in Nanjing’s breakfast culture of "devouring noodles" and "gulping down wontons"?

In Old South Nanjing, people carry breakfast to work.

How many originated from "Kaifeng cuisine"?

Nanjing, located in the Jiangnan watertown, enjoys a mild, humid climate, abundant water resources, and fertile land, making it a region of rich produce. Coupled with the cultural and economic accumulation since the Six Dynasties, it became a bustling hub known as the "Pioneer of the Southeast," attracting merchants from everywhere. Nanjing is called "the most northern-eating city in the south," a place shaped by conquests and migrations. Its culinary customs are diverse. Thus, Nanjing’s breakfast carries strong northern influences, continuously blending southern and northern traditions, embracing flavors from across the land, and forming its unique breakfast culture.

In Nanjing, you witness not only the coexistence of classical and modern but also the fusion of northern and southern cuisines.

Xiaolongbao or beef buns? Thin skin and ample filling are the golden rules.

In Nanjing, xiaolongbao are slightly sweet, rich in broth, with thin skin and generous fillings. Every morning, bun shops in lively residential areas and markets are packed. Crab roe buns are hefty, each packed with chunks of crab meat, bursting with sweetness. In fact, these buns originated from Kaifeng’s soup-filled buns of the Northern Song Dynasty.

After the Jingkang Incident of the Northern Song, Kaifeng’s xiaolongbao migrated south with the Southern Song. Zhou Mi’s *Old Affairs of Wulin* mentions "soup-filled buns," while Wu Zimu’s *Dreams of Splendor* lists "soup-filled mantou, thin-skinned spring cocoon buns, and shrimp-filled buns."

Nanjing’s Dasong Soup Buns are classic northern-style, closely resembling Kaifeng’s soup-filled buns.

Nanjing’s xiaolongbao, adapted locally, evolved into pork xiaolongbao and chrysanthemum-leaf xiaolongbao. The pork version boasts neat pleats, plump and white, with thin yet sturdy skin and sweet, scalding broth, warming breakfasts like morning sunlight.

Chrysanthemum-leaf xiaolongbao are Nanjing’s unique innovation. Adding summer wild chrysanthemum greens to traditional soup buns creates a refreshing, cooling bite, making mornings feel crisp and bright.

Non-soup vegetarian buns and halal buns are two other staples. Veggie buns are vibrant, while beef buns are fragrant yet light. Lüliuju’s veggie buns, touted as Nanjing’s best, are so popular some bring pots to carry them home. Made with local "short-stalk yellow" greens and sesame oil, their aroma permeates the steamed wrappers, perfuming Nanjing’s mornings.

Nanjing’s Jiming Soup Buns are steamed upside down, with the "belly button" facing downward—their signature trait.

The "wok hei" of beef potstickers awakens golden, crispy mornings.

Old South Nanjing locals adore beef potstickers, especially Caoqiao’s, crafted by veteran masters for authentic flavor. This carb-heavy dish also traces back to Kaifeng. *Kaifeng Culinary Records* and *Kaifeng Chronicles* note a Northern Song snack called "fried horns," with "fried" capturing the potsticker’s essence.

Caoqiao beef potstickers, a longtime local favorite, feature crispy skins and juicy fillings, especially the caramelized bottoms—a crunch that jolts you awake with one bite.

Li Ji’s potstickers add tendon broth to the filling, rich in collagen. The tendon elevates the texture, creating a layered "juice explosion" of beef and broth.

Nanjing beef potstickers burst with juice at first bite.

Founded in 1922, Jiang Youji’s potstickers stand out with cornmeal skins, akin to Northeast China’s version. Their golden, crispy shells are naturally sturdy yet tender, making the juicy filling a visual feast—like "golden armor pierced in battle."

In the bustling mornings of old eateries, the essential elements of pan-fried dumplings include not only beef filling, dough, and rapeseed oil but also the vinegar for dipping and the shallow, wide iron pan for frying—all together painting the "breakfast tableau" of Nanjing's pan-fried dumplings.

Golden, crispy beef pan-fried dumplings sizzling in a shallow iron pan.

Bubble wontons vs. duck blood wontons—which one is your pick?

For Nanjing locals, hearty wontons like chicken broth wontons or firewood-cooked wontons fuel carb-heavy mornings when hunger strikes. In contrast, spicy oil wontons are all about comfort and leisure, where the essence lies not in the meat filling but in the delicate wrappers, chili oil, and broth.

"Want some chili oil?" is a common refrain at breakfast wonton stalls, where you can add as much chili oil as you like. A bite of wonton followed by a sip of soup brings sheer satisfaction. To locals, skipping the chili oil means breakfast isn’t done right.

Nanjing’s beloved chicken broth wontons.

The wontons adored by Nanjingers also trace their origins to Kaifeng in the Northern Song Dynasty. According to *The Dreams of the Splendid Capital of the East*, "There are dumpling and wonton shops, as well as vegetarian meals akin to temple fare." It seems Northern Song wontons were quite plain, but in bountiful Nanjing, they’ve taken on a richer flair.

Nanjing’s breakfast wontons come in countless styles. Duck blood wontons, which might seem like a dark culinary mystery to outsiders, feature large chunks of duck blood floating in the broth, blending the boldness of *maoxuewang* with the lightness of duck blood and vermicelli soup. These wontons are substantial, with firm meat filling and springy duck blood, delivering double satisfaction with every bite.

The whimsically named "bubble wontons" have actually been a Nanjing staple for over 30 years. Each plump, puffed-up wonton resembles a fluffy cloud, offering visual delight. The craft lies in the masterful technique of leaving space between the wrapper and filling. A single bite bursts the delicate wrapper, like a meaty version of a "cloud puff."

After trying steamed buns, pan-fried dumplings, and wontons, do you feel the charm of Jinling’s Six Dynasties merging with Kaifeng’s *Tokyo Dreamscape*? In truth, much of Nanjing’s breakfast still carries strong Jiangnan flavors. Blessed with abundant produce, the city’s morning fare is far more diverse than you’d imagine.

In Nanjing, hidden breakfast gems often lurk around a quiet alley corner.

Black rice wraps embrace all—a symphony of "chewy" and "crunchy" on the tongue.

Nanjingers love "black rice" for breakfast, akin to Shanghai’s rice balls but made with black glutinous rice. Also called "blue essence rice," it dates back to the Tang Dynasty. Du Fu wrote in *To Li Bai*, "How could I lack blue essence rice to keep my complexion fair?" The plant dye comes from the black rice tree, also known as *nanzhu* or *wunianzi*. Its leaves are crushed to extract juice, a method recorded in Lin Hong’s *Simple Offerings of Mountain Dwellers* from the Southern Song Dynasty. The tender leaves arrive in April and May, when black rice is most popular.

Crushed aged fried dough sticks and salted egg yolks are wrapped in black rice, with pickled long beans or salted vegetables added to taste. The rice is soft and chewy, while the fried dough sticks add crispiness. Pickled long beans and salted veggies are the indispensable flavor keys. Locals often pair black rice with tofu pudding for breakfast.

Nanjing’s black rice balls can wrap up anything delicious.

The viral duck blood and vermicelli soup actually has a predecessor?

Before duck blood and vermicelli soup became Nanjing’s top trend, duck blood soup ruled breakfast streets as a staple street food. In the mid-to-late 1990s, a Zhenjiang native added vermicelli, creating the now-iconic dish.

Ask where to find the best duck blood and vermicelli soup in Nanjing, and most will say, "The one downstairs," "The one by the school gate," or "The one in the alley." For old-timers, a key criterion is: Does the chili oil smell good? For extra joy, double the duck liver, heap on cilantro, and drench it in chili oil.

Nanjingers double the duck liver in their duck blood and vermicelli soup—doubling the happiness.

Among locals’ go-to spots, Hongmiao’s Xiaopanji stands out, where generations grew up on its unchanging broth. In Laifeng neighborhood, Yexin Snacks serves a milky, rich broth with generous portions of duck gizzard and intestine, plus optional rice crusts for a satisfying crunch.

The sweetness of Nanjing's breakfast is slightly sticky and slightly mellow.

September in Nanjing smells of osmanthus. In the old shops of the southern city, osmanthus petals fall into bowls of fermented rice dumplings. At the "Lan Laoda" sweet lotus root and rice porridge shop, the fermented rice and red bean dumplings are soft, glutinous, and fragrant with golden osmanthus.

Fermented rice and red bean dumplings: red and white, sticky and chewy.

Glutinous rice, lotus root starch, and tangyuan form a "triple sticky" base; brown sugar and fermented rice provide two dimensions of sweetness; the stewed red beans and golden osmanthus fragments combine bean and floral aromas, creating a layered taste. Nanjing's autumn mornings are truly delightful!

As for taro balls in sweet syrup, large chunks of taro are boiled until soft and thickened with lotus root or water chestnut starch, resulting in a smooth, velvety broth. The steamed taro is powdery, glutinous, and sandy. The bowl is a translucent dark red, faintly revealing the white taro chunks, visually resembling an oversized pomegranate aril.

To achieve a floury texture, the taro in taro balls is typically sourced from Shandong or Zhejiang. Diners often prefer the taro over the sweet broth, scooping it up nonstop. The sweetness of the taro breaks through people's taste defenses.

The sweetness of taro balls makes it impossible to stop scooping.

If one had to choose the flagship sweet breakfast of Nanjing, sweet lotus root and rice porridge would undoubtedly take the crown. The lotus root is washed, dried, trimmed, and filled with glutinous rice, then boiled for four to five hours—a complex process. The dish uses deep-water lotus root from Nanjing's suburbs, paired with a glutinous rice porridge base for unparalleled softness.

The glutinous rice-stuffed lotus root, boiled in a copper pot, is sliced with a copper knife and placed at the bowl's bottom, then covered with hot, thick brown sugar porridge. When eating, use the back of the spoon to crush the lotus root and scoop it up with the porridge. The lingering sweetness and osmanthus fragrance, with the lotus root's fibrous texture, create a morning bond!

The glutinous rice-stuffed lotus root awaits slicing.

It's said no duck can leave Nanjing alive, but according to incomplete statistics, there are over 6,000 noodle shops in Nanjing—three times the number of duck shops—earning it the nickname "Noodle City." So, how many ways can noodles be enjoyed in Nanjing?

Nanjing's noodles can also be bold and spicy.

In Nanjing, nothing can't be solved with a bowl of pork skin noodles.

There's a saying in Nanjing: "Old-broth noodles in the morning, small-boiled noodles in the afternoon." Small-boiled noodles, known locally as pork skin noodles, feature pork skin as the star. Discerning locals take the pork skin in their noodles very seriously.

The pale pork skin, after boiling, drying, frying, and soaking, turns golden. A bite releases a burst of broth, with a texture that's firm yet tender and crisp. The noodles come in two types: thin, straight "water noodles" and slightly thicker, curly hand-pulled noodles. Both must be "en zheng" (al dente), colloquially called "qiang noodles."

A ladle of broth in a single-handled wok, golden pork skin, tender pork liver, slender shredded pork, greens, black fungus, and a soft-boiled egg. Noodles from another pot are added, then everything is poured into a basin-sized bowl. A bowl of pork skin noodles is served.

Pork skin noodles: a riot of toppings.

Chili oil is the finishing touch for pork skin noodles. It's best added while cooking the noodles for deeper flavor. Add some crispy pork fat for perfection.

Xiaodao noodles: hand-jumped noodles, boiled twice.

Founded in the late Qing Dynasty, Liu Changxing Noodle House is Nanjing's oldest noodle shop. Locals engaged in heavy labor often chose a bowl of noodles, with Liu Changxing's xiaodao noodles being a Nanjing specialty.

The noodle-pressing technique for Xiaodao noodles traditionally employs the "manual jumping method" (now mostly machine-made): the kneaded dough is placed under a thick pole, with one end fixed and a worker sitting on the other end, repeatedly lifting and pressing the pole to compact the dough before rolling it into thin sheets. Finally, the sheets are stacked and hand-cut into noodles.

Fish soup Xiaodao noodles are also one of Nanjing's popular noodle dishes.

The preparation of Xiaodao noodles resembles that of rinsed noodles, but the rinsing occurs midway. The noodles are first boiled in water, rinsed with fresh water, then boiled again before being served with various toppings and seasonal broths, such as eel shreds in summer and crab roe in autumn.

Xiaodao noodles are smooth and firm, offering a chewy texture and lingering wheat aroma, complemented by rich toppings and savory broth.

The old-broth noodles, salty with a hint of sweetness, can pair with almost anything.

Also originating from the late Qing Dynasty, old-broth noodles, with their all-encompassing broth, hold a unique place in Nanjing's breakfast scene.

The broth of old-broth noodles serves as the soup base—salty yet sweet, rich with umami, far from a simple soy sauce soup. In Nanjing, a large bowl of these noodles comes with a generous layer of toppings, delivering ultimate satisfaction.

The broth of old-broth noodles is salty with a hint of sweetness, exuding rich aromas.

The broth is thick in color but clear when ladled; toppings vary, each with its own style. Nanjing locals have diverse breakfast preferences: spare rib noodles, smoked fish noodles, pork intestine noodles, braised pork noodles, and more—all fall under the category of old-broth noodles.

Especially the braised pork noodles: the hearty pork, with distinct lean and fatty layers, offers a firm texture, serving as a morning "energy boost"—one bite fuels the day.

Nanjing, the ancient capital of six dynasties, boasts a breakfast culture that is abundant yet unpretentious—refined yet bold. Its rich local produce highlights the simplicity of folk life. The collision of time-honored traditions and fast-paced urbanity creates not just the "most northern" eating habits in the south but also the everyday culinary essence of Chinese life.

Chen Daixue, Standing Council Member and Director of the Nanjing Anqing Chamber of Commerce