The Taste of Shanghai-Style Culture: Yongfoo Élite

This abridged version of “The Legendary Villa’s Shanghai Flavor, Visited by Countless Celebrities”

Originally published on Foodie TV

September 2022

Yongfoo Élite was once the official residence of the renowned Ruijin Hospital doctor Kuang Ankun and later served as the consulate for the Soviet Union, Germany, the United Kingdom, and others. Since opening in 2004, the venue itself has carried multiple cultural identities: a Michelin-starred restaurant, an antique museum, and a cultural salon. A place where celebrities flow like water and political figures drift like sand, it almost encapsulates the rise of Shanghai-style culture. This time, let’s explore this “theater of the palate” for the animals of Shanghai culture.

The owner of Yongfoo Élite, Mr. Wang Xingzheng (hereafter referred to as Mr. Wang), is one of China’s first-generation Chinese designers and an antique collector—a “lao ke la” who even replaces the buttons on new clothes with antique ones from his collection. Every time I visit him, I feel as if my eyes are feasting on an unprecedented “Western-style Chinese cuisine,” watching a play whose scenery shifts with every step, more enchanting than a flowing banquet.

I jokingly call that special group of cultural figures born out of Shanghai-style culture “animals” because their way of socializing is envy-inducing. In the Shanghai of the 1920s and ’30s, the trendiest thing was to have just read a hot new book—that was the backdrop of conversation. People were devoted to high-quality social engagement. It’s hard to imagine, but it almost kept pace with Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast across the ocean.

If we compare it to today’s social media generation, the situation becomes somewhat awkward. As early as the last century, in that sleepless Shanghai cultural circle, the atmosphere of “sharing the joy of extraordinary writing and analyzing its subtleties together” had already elevated many beyond the mundane. Nourished by both Chinese and Western cultures, a flower of tolerance bloomed in the hardened soil. When such “refinement” is passed to the next generation, even in the simple acts of dressing and dining, time overflows with beauty.

Inspired by the Parisian cultural salons of the 1930s, Yongfoo Élite hosts weekly art events such as music performances, film exchanges, and literary readings. Compared to the Mixun Bar, Liuyi Hall is even more steeped in antiquity. Originally a grand hall from an early Qing dynasty mansion, it was meticulously relocated from Dongyang, Zhejiang province, and now serves as an open-air ancient stage at Yongfoo Élite, occasionally hosting live music. As I walk along the path lined with cypress and holly into Yongfoo Élite, I imagine the state of mind of Luxembourg Prime Minister Jean-Claude Juncker, Spanish King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofía, and former French First Lady Bernadette Chirac as they strolled here—a feeling of regret at not having met sooner. The three-story Spanish-style villa features a Chinese plaque above the main door inscribed with “Jude Tang” (Hall of Gathering Virtue). Inside, the marble patterns are hand-chiseled, identical to those in the Uffizi Gallery in Italy.

In the foyer, there is another plaque, an authentic work by Liu Yong, the Qing dynasty “Ink-Minister,” reading “Lü Wu Jiu An” (a dwelling of no reproach). Beneath the plaque hangs a Western-style fireplace, on which sits a “Xuan De Lu” (incense burner) from the Qianlong period. One can’t help but imagine Zhang Ailing (Eileen Chang) visiting, with both her “cinnabar mole” and “white moonlight” alternating in her mind.

Moving further, you reach the dining area, where red drapes embroidered with peacock feathers frame the windows, white tablecloths are hand-stitched, and the chairs are antiques. In the center of the restaurant hangs a glazed couplet: “Eastern Lu’s elegant words speak of poetry, books, and propriety; Western Capital’s bright teachings stress filial piety, brotherhood, and farming.” Antique glass cabinets display Mr. Wang’s collections. The collision of East and West creates a harmony where lamplight and the lush greenery outside complement each other seamlessly.

At that moment, every bite and sip while seated is a conversation with borderless time.

Who would have thought that when Yongfoo Élite first opened, it was just a group of designers acting as chefs, spending two weeks in the library learning the basics of dining. “And you know what happened? Back then, China didn’t have just eight major cuisines—it had twenty-two, each with its own roots and civilization of cuisine,” Mr. Wang said. Surprised, I asked, “So cooking and design are related?” He calmly replied, “Before, being a chef was just a livelihood skill, and those in the trade rarely loved it. A group of passionate, perceptive designers diving into the kitchen to cook was utterly disruptive to the industry. Don’t you think a high-end banquet is itself a form of design?”

Mr. Wang’s answer convinced me. After all, in 2004, not long after opening, Yongfoo Élite was named “Best Designed Club in the World” by the prestigious magazine Wallpaper. And for a club, as the night stretches long, good food is the guiding light.

This kind of design, however, values something even more important than the dishes: the “emotional intelligence” of Shanghai-style hospitality. It aligns with the philosophy of antique collector Mr. Wang himself: “only admiring beauty, not value.” For someone with an extreme pursuit of aesthetics, such demands are already as many as can be.

Mr. Cao Kefan recalled once arranging a dinner with the pianist Mr. Fou Ts’ong at Yongfoo Élite. “That day, Mr. Fou wore a dark blue printed silk jacket, his hair neatly combed back, a pair of black half-finger woolen gloves on his hands, and a pipe in his mouth. In conversation, he spoke pure old Shanghainese, mingled with a smattering of English and French. Watching this scene felt like travelling back in time.”

(The private room where Fou Ts’ong dined back then.)

Mr. Fou once described the moment he first realized he had fallen in love with the Polish music goddess Martha Argerich, saying “she was crystal clear,” even though others dismissed her as willful and wild. In my heart, beauty is pure; sometimes it doesn’t need to consider practicality. Good love stories are usually simple, no matter how complicatedly they unfold, much like watching a Shakespeare play. Within the social atmosphere of these Shanghai cultural animals, there is a kindness: genuinely listening to “expressions” without hastily judging “outrageous” likes or dislikes, because most here have seen enough of life’s spectacles. I admire their individuality—they spare no effort to break the rules for even the slightest hint of beauty in their way of living.

At that time, Yongfoo Élite’s small dishes were utterly simple: poached chicken, smoked fish, shredded meat with napa cabbage, eight-treasure duck, yan du xian, and many more. The master pianist ate with delighted murmurs of praise, and he was particularly unstinting in his compliments for the scallion oil noodles: “The flavor is fantastic, just not quite enough,” he said, then laughed a bit sheepishly. “For those of us who have long lived overseas, longing for home often begins with a few homely dishes. Didn’t Zhang Ailing’s heart skip a beat when she spotted a bunch of purple-red amaranth in an American Chinatown?”

Weiwei, the artistic director of Yongfoo Élite, recalled an afternoon when she invited the world-renowned Italian architect Roberto Baciocchi for coffee in the garden. As Prada’s designated architect, he was in Shanghai to oversee the creative restoration of Prada Rong Zhai. “The old man arrived speaking French, not much of a talker—none of the Italian’s breezy, back-and-forth enthusiasm. Yet as he walked through the garden, his hawk-like eyes swept around, and he started speaking more and more. He talked to me about the grass sprouting from the cracks in the stone pavement—it was the season when the grass was withering and turning yellow. In Liuyi Hall, he bent down, squatted on the ground for a closer look, then stood up and said, ‘This combination of materials is incredible! Nobody in the industry would do this.’ He asked me to phone Mr. Wang right away and said he wanted to meet him. I immediately called Mr. Wang, who replied that he was at his collection warehouse in the suburbs and couldn’t make it back that day. As the Italian was leaving, he made sure I would tell Mr. Wang that he hoped one day Mr. Wang would visit his famous ancient house in Tuscany when he came to Europe.”

(A magnolia tree 140 years old.)

Weiwei said that she was drawn to Mr. Wang precisely by this quality. For years, he insisted on planting Chinese grass in the garden, allowing it to wither and flourish on its own. He preferred to let the hand of nature shape his domain, rejecting the instantly comprehensible, secret-less Western lawn. Of course, some guests at Yongfoo Élite think a high-end place should follow high-end rules and shouldn’t be “old,” yet “old” is an aesthetic concept—a contest between becoming a refined object and remaining raw. It discards the short-term utilitarianism of “things” and emphasizes the emotional resonance of “things” with people. In this fashion capital where “new” rules supreme, this garden gives the four seasons their most authentic voice.

Those with sharp eyes, once they settle in at Yongfoo Élite, are reluctant to leave anytime soon. The first time I met Mr. Wang, he wore a pair of transparent-framed glasses, his seemingly simple white wide shirt and black loose pants meticulously tailored. A beam of skylight fell from the antique glass in the dome; his glasses were “lit up,” casting light into the delicate folds, and the slender “lantern” also shone—he was all a-glow. Then the sun illuminated his 1960s vintage sofas by Gucci and Fendi; the crackled leather looked less like aged cowhide and more like jade with the finest translucency.

His VIP cigar room is where he has most wanted to spend time over the past fifty years. Behind the sofa where I sat, there was a late-Qing cigarette advertisement poster bearing a striking resemblance to Puyi. Even now, many people’s understanding of a pile of Chinese and Western antiques still comes down to the primitive question: “How much is it worth?” But even as a calculating snob, I can’t read antique furniture—walking into the space Mr. Wang has spent nearly twenty years creating at Yongfoo Élite, I simply felt it was “beautiful.”

He said, “Antiques are not replicable. After they’re made, they undergo the weathering of time, developing an aesthetic texture and colour that can’t be repeated. That patina—if you asked a manufacturer to make another one just like it, there would be none of these cracks, none of this luster; it’s impossible to produce an exact copy. So this level is already above all others, because all beautiful things are imitations. Everything in the world, in fact, is imitation, including food. Right?”

Looking back, I recall having a Song Dynasty–themed banquet here. The Song was the pinnacle of Chinese taste, where the diner’s eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind embraced mountains, rivers, lakes, and seas—and it is the hardest ancient feast to recreate. I used to think that for fine dining, French cuisine was the best vessel, taking four hundred years to gradually develop a complete set of table manners. In a delightful dining experience, there are so many rules worth passing down: one dish removed as another is served, carefully paired wines, over fifteen pieces of cutlery serving the food... In comparison, the banquet given by Zhang Jun, Prince of Qinghe (Yue Fei’s superior), for Emperor Gaozong of the Song (Zhao Gou) could be called the Chinese version of a “Buffett feast.” Held at the prince’s mansion in what is now Qinghefang in Hangzhou, it featured nearly 150 dishes, meticulously recorded in Old Stories of Wulin. That, to my knowledge, is the pinnacle of homegrown Chinese fine dining.

Yongfoo Élite’s Song feast revival: flower-braised pigeon, lychee-style white kidney, willow-leaf chives, clam salad, four-gilled perch... I’m captivated by the romantic-sounding “flower-braised quail,” the first dish served during Emperor Gaozong’s visit to Zhang Jun’s residence, flavored with edible rose petals. The artistry of “lychee-style white kidney” lies in the knife work: after processing, the pork kidneys turn white; the surface of the halved kidney is scored with a tiny grid pattern, mimicking the texture of lychee shells—this technique is called “lychee.” Used from the Song dynasty to today, this method makes the kidney slices curl up when cooked, resembling a hulled lychee. The purpose is to shorten cooking time and let the dish absorb flavors better. Yongfoo Élite’s preparation: after scoring, the kidneys are rinsed with wine water for a day, scalded with hot water, then dressed with a fresh lychee sauce. The taste is somewhat close to Huaiyang-style blanched kidney slices, but without soy sauce. The earliest use of the term “soy sauce” in China was in the Song dynasty, but because ancient filtration was limited, it was usually a thin fermented bean paste, so here soybean paste was used.

Here, like a person outside time and space, I felt the same sincerity born of passion that infused the 2004 dinner with the French president and Shanghai’s cultural circles at Yongfoo Élite. President Chirac, who gave a speech at Fudan University that year, spent an entire day at Yongfoo Élite.

Indeed, the Shanghai-style feasts here are fluid, existing within the grains of time, forever inimitable. Even Mr. Wang says the world has changed: “Society is fast because everyone now receives direct information. In the past, conveying information required time plus space, so it was slow. So many things that used to take many years to form now happen much faster.” I replied, “What a pity—it’s so fast that there’s no time to enjoy so many details.”

I know Yongfoo Élite has a new menu, brimming with experimental and avant-garde spirit, just as earth-shattering as when it first started. Liu Chang (Cielo) joined in 2022 and is now one of the two head chefs. Looking very young, he has actually worked in Italy for fifteen years and has countless international accolades—a rising star in the culinary world.

Amuse Bouche

Four appetizers: pearl-marinated Hokkaido sweet shrimp (the pearl shell made from coconut milk, squid ink, and spring roll wrapper), foie gras wine-lees air macaron with pickled shallots, dill yogurt with Jerusalem artichoke crisps, and a cabbage crisp sandwich with walnut soy milk filling.

For the starters, I’m especially fond of the champagne pairing: Henri Giraud. The house still insists on 100% oak barrel aging, with wood from the Argonne Forest near the village of Aÿ. This brut nature champagne is a blend of 80% Pinot Noir and 20% Chardonnay, offering notes of peach, pear, vanilla, and white pepper, followed by a lemony aroma and a finish of almond biscuit. Its structure supports the evolving starters and is beautifully refreshing.

Hairy Crab, Yellow Croaker, Cherry Tomato, Ginger

Dishes during crab season are hard to make stand out; building on crab flavor while removing fishiness and enhancing freshness is a real test. This dish takes inspiration from crab roe topping noodles: savory yellow croaker shreds wrapped in wonton skin, fresh hairy crab roe and meat simmered gently with crab-shell broth, paired with wind-dried cherry tomatoes, ginger juice, and aged Huadiao wine. Finally, it’s spritzed with sherry vinegar to lift the aroma. As I take a bite, the crunch and tenderness, the salty freshness and gentle moistness all delight—the chef handles “balance” with grace.

This dish is paired with Pagoda Brand Winter Brew, whose unique aromas of almond, lotus leaf, and wheat I adore. The water selection for this wine is especially meticulous: brewing must take place around the winter solstice, when low temperatures inhibit bacterial growth, and the water from Jianhu Lake southwest of Shaoxing in Zhejiang is at its clearest and purest, yielding top-quality yellow wine. Only water from the days just before the solstice is used for this particular brew; even a day after, there’s a faint sourness. Pagoda’s authentic brew is made only during those five or six days around the winter solstice each year.

Fried Turnip Cake, Shredded Radish, Sour Cream, Caviar, Allium

I marvel at the combination of panchino and old Shanghai fried turnip cake—a tribute to Barcelona’s Disfrutar restaurant: a thin batter infused with nitrogen, deep-fried at 180°C until crisp, filled with shredded radish and sour cream, topped with caviar and crispy allium threads. It’s delicate and luscious. One bite deeply comforts with memories of childhood.

Shishamo, Indian Aster, Red Cabbage, Mixed Seaweed, Pine Needle

With this dish, I finally understand the joy of playfulness at the table. Shishamo, rich in roe, is reinvented as a Shanghai-style smoked fish: shaped, fried until crisp, then immersed in a traditional, intense sauce. Malantou paste, red cabbage jelly, mixed seaweed, and smoked pine needle foam add a light, airy touch. Paired with Shi Bai Pian Reserve Chardonnay’s ripe citrus, pineapple, and yellow peach tropical fruit aromas, I sip the airy bubbles and feel as if I’ve transformed into a tropical fish.

Abalone, Scallop, Black Truffle, Egg Dumpling, Mixed Herbs

Inspired by egg dumplings and Wellington, this dish has seven layers from the outside in: egg dumpling skin, three-head abalone steamed with Huadiao wine, Hokkaido scallop mousse, and a black truffle center. It’s accompanied by a six-hour simmered clear abalone broth infused with fresh herbs (thyme, rosemary, lemon balm, marjoram, mint, sage, tarragon) to keep it fragrant.

Langoustine, Broad Bean, Potherb Mustard, Moss

Extra-large Icelandic langoustine meat is pan-fried with brown butter for fragrance; the brain and claws are mixed with lime zest as a filling and fried. It’s served with broad bean purée, a sauce made from langoustine shells and heads, stir-fried potherb mustard, fried reindeer moss, scallop floss, and yellow croaker powder. The inspiration comes from Shanghai broad bean paste, emphasizing freshness and tenderness.

A5 Wagyu, Koshihikari Rice, Beef Bone Marrow, White Onion, Shanghai Greens

Normally, I’m very cautious about carbs at the table to avoid weight gain, but this new take on Italian risotto and Shanghai vegetable rice made me abandon all resistance. Koshihikari rice is first soaked in Parmesan water, then cooked with bone marrow brown butter, enriched with quintessential A5 Wagyu beef that’s been seared and fried, along with Shanghai greens and caramelized onion—intensely aromatic.

Pigeon, Pea Shoots, Beetroot, Eight-Treasure Job’s Tears

Inspired by Shanghai eight-treasure duck, the deboned pigeon breast and legs are pan-fried and deep-fried respectively, then flame-grilled. Accompanied by a nine-hour jus from pigeon bones and old duck, beetroot sauce, eight-treasure Job’s tears stir-fried in a red-braise seafood sauce, and pea shoots infused with Maotai liquor.

Special Soy-Caramel Ice Cream, Soybean, Dark Chocolate, Buckwheat

A granita made from Nanhui peach is paired with shiso peach jelly and fresh shiso leaves. After this refreshing interlude, the soy-caramel ice cream is deeply satisfying. The chef boldly combines soy jelly, soy milk panna cotta, Valrhona dark chocolate buckwheat crumble, and sponge cake—an alluring interplay of salty and sweet.

Petits Fours

Mini kumquat jam napoleon, michelia cherry blossom chocolate, fermented rice lychee soft candy, and a macaron made from homemade magnolia syrup with lime and cream.

Mr. Wang asked, “Is it good?” I replied, “Of course—look, I’ve finished everything. Not only delicious, but beautiful too.”

“You say delicious, beautiful, but what really comes from the heart is what I call ‘good feeling.’ A dish that sparks good feeling is the true king—it’s a perception that synthesizes all five senses.”

“I look at things from a cross-disciplinary perspective. In aesthetic terms, both deliciousness and good feeling are structures. Everything has structure because I work in design. At the most fundamental level, a plate of food has a tangible structure and a structure of compatibility. Within the compatibility structure, you get a craft structure and a quality structure, and ultimately, a comprehensive conceptual structure. Your experience of ‘delicious and beautiful’ is that conceptual structure.”

“In fact, the underlying logic of everything is structure, and a physical structure at that. So when I design, I’m actually working with physical structures—including the design of the environment, the arrangement of dishes, and the way things are presented. It all starts from structure, and it’s not the same as what a chef does.”

Mr. Wang’s words are both deep and direct: “In the past, nearly 90 percent of Chinese chefs were working at a purely physical labor level, maybe even more. Those who truly had wisdom, who could move from brainpower to intelligence, were extremely rare. Because their degree of civilization wasn’t enough. When we talk about civilization, it’s actually about worldview—their understanding of the world and of aesthetics. Aesthetics is civilization, not culture. Chinese cuisine has culture, but culture doesn’t equal civilization. Culture and civilization are not the same thing.”

The reason I call Yongfoo Élite’s regulars “cultural animals” comes with a somewhat vulgar prejudice about “lacking civilization.” Yet I’m glad to be surrounded by these delightfully odd people. Perhaps one day I’ll learn to “let loose” and “accept,” gain a little more courage, and become a proud “animal” myself.

I even feel that Mr. Wang is “cross-disciplinary” to a degree beyond that label—he has transcended “cross-disciplinary” and designs everything, including food and his conversation with me, from the level of his unique structure. Delicious, but it needs time to digest. The “sophistication” that is about to burst forth is an inimitable flavor forged by time. This theater of the palate cannot be rushed.

Do you long for the past?

“When a person can no longer possess something,

the only thing he can do is not forget.”

—Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

Food Bless You!

Consultant for Once Upon a Bite 3

Host of The Divine Table

Producer of Wild China Eats