How freshness shapes the way Ningbo eats
By the time we reach the breakfast table, it is already full. A large turntable spins steadily, crowded with rice cakes and dumplings, baked bread, pickles, steamed vegetables, fresh fruit and fermented tofu. Breakfast appears to have started without us.
We’ve yet to sit down, and still, more arrives. This is how Ningbo eats.
Ningbo is located on China’s eastern seaboard in Zhejiang province, facing the East China Sea. It has been a working port for centuries, shaped by tides, trade and the steady movement of goods. That history is reflected in a cuisine built around timing: food arrives when it’s ready, not when the room is.
On this trip, we are travelling with Liu Zhen, executive chef of Yong Fu Hong Kong, and Qiong Yu, a Ningbo native and the restaurant’s general manager. Between them, they offer a clear way into a regional cuisine that is less familiar than many others, but rewarding once you sit down to eat.
A breakfast table in Ningbo, already set before diners arrive, with cold and hot dishes rotating steadily on a self-spinning turntable (Photo: Fontaine Cheng)
“In Ningbo, when someone invites you to a meal,” Yu explains, “the host’s first remark is often: ‘There may not be much to go with the rice, but make sure you eat your fill.’ The question that follows is usually: ‘Is the dish fresh?’”
Those two questions, she says, “reveal the essence of Ningbo cuisine. Its defining quality lies in its devotion to freshness.”
With the East China Sea on its doorstep, small seafood—known locally as xiao xian—dominates the diet. Fish, crabs and shellfish arrive fresh and are handled with restraint. Preservation has its place too, used to deepen flavour with salting, fermentation and curing, extending umami without overwhelming the dish.
As a result, seafood forms the backbone of most meals. Yu estimates that a typical Ningbo table is around 70 per cent seafood, with the remainder made up of meat and vegetables. That ratio explains much of the cuisine’s character: clean flavours and controlled seasoning.
Fresh bamboo shoots from the local market are used widely in Ningbo cooking for their clean flavour and gentle texture (Photo: Fontaine Cheng)
The “three stinks” is a local Ningbo trio of fermented vegetables. Here, they have used tofu, edamame and amaranth stalks (Photo: Fontaine Cheng)
“Flavours rise and fall,” describes Liu. “The textures are layered, freshness and salinity are held in balance, and everything is eaten in season, always at the right moment.”
Timing, he explains, is everything. Seafood changes throughout the year, too. “Differences in waters, water quality and climate mean that even the same species of fish can display different textures,” Liu says, noting that fish from the East China Sea remain the benchmark.
Seafood may anchor the table, but it rarely stands alone. Preserved greens, pickles, fermented elements and seasonal vegetables, including snow greens, bamboo shoots and ginger, are used to steady and deepen dishes, adding salinity and pungency where needed.
Seasoning is pared back to five essentials: salt, Shaoxing yellow rice wine, soy sauce, rice vinegar and sugar. “The subtle adjustment of their proportions,” Liu explains, “ultimately defines the character of each dish.”
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Raw, cured crab, a Ningbo speciality that relies entirely on freshness, timing and careful salting (Photo: Fontaine Cheng)
Black sesame dumplings, traditionally boiled, here pan-fried for a crisp exterior, a modern take on a Ningbo classic (Photo: Fontaine Cheng)
When asked where to begin, Yu points first to raw, cured seafood. “Salted crab and salted mud snails,” she says. “Both prepared raw and cured. Guests may choose according to their own tolerance.” These dishes rely entirely on judgement—of freshness, salinity and timing—and leave no room for error.
Liu’s suggestion is pomfret with snow-pickled greens and shredded bamboo shoots. Snow greens, he explains, “bring together salinity, freshness and fermentation in a single element,” making them one of the most important building blocks in Ningbo cooking.
Technique underpins all of this. Heat control, Liu insists, is fundamental. Braising, curing, steaming and pan-frying are handled with restraint, often layered together. One method in particular, kao (焅), is specific to Ningbo and frequently misunderstood. Often mistranslated as roasting, it is something else entirely.
“Kao requires a vessel as its medium and combines several techniques, including stir-frying, boiling, braising and slow simmering, along with careful control of heat,” Liu explains. The aim is depth rather than surface effect: flavour carried through the ingredient, the exterior finishing glossy and compact.
A hearty breakfast of dumplings and noodles is eaten early in Ningbo (Photo: Fontaine Cheng)
Within China’s vast regional food landscape, Ningbo remains relatively niche. Yu believes that is part of its strength. “Over the past six years in Hong Kong, we have received many responses: some guests discover surprise, some sense something distinctive, some are reminded of memories, and some taste a quiet longing within a single bite.”
At the table, that variety of responses makes sense. Raw crab and cured snails arrive without preamble; preserved flavours sit alongside fresh ones without apology. There is an assumption that the diner will work it out as they eat and that quiet confidence, more than any single dish, is what stays with you.
Blood clams are served simply to highlight their natural sweetness and mineral notes (Photo: Fontaine Cheng)
Fermented tofu, milder but still fragrant, is used to add depth to rice and other dishes (Photo: Fontaine Cheng)
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