Dumpling Diversion

'Hello passenger! Welcome to Take-My-Taxi!' chirruped the meter, as the taxi driver spat lazily out the window.

It is another smoggy Shanghai morning. Unable to muster up an appetite for the hotel breakfast of greasy scrambled eggs and dishwater coffee, I head out in search of an authentic dumpling house instead, and find the Nanxiang Mantou Restaurant by the Mid-Lake Pavillion in the old town.

There is an art to tucking into a steamed dumpling.
I learn the hard way, for example, that you do not pop one whole directly from the steamer into your mouth, or you will scald your tongue on the boiling juices and cause your eyes to water.
Nor do you attempt to release the boiling juices by prodding a hole in the dumplings with your chopstick, as you will end up squirting the juices down your shirt.
Finally, unless you are a seasoned pro able to scoff your meal down without committing any of the above faux pas, you would do best not to sit under the bewildered and disapproving gaze of a fat but supercilious Shanghainese couple while you tuck in.

Beat the scrambled eggs, though!