A taste of the Qing Dynasty - Fuhuazhai Chinese Pastry Shop (富华斋饽饽铺) in Beijing.
Fuhuazhai was suggested by a friend from Beijing as a relaxing spot to hang out and catch up over tea and some mid-morning snacks.
We were there a week before the mid-autumn festival and the shop had a steady stream of people queuing up at the counter to order gifts to bring back to their families to celebrate for the upcoming celebration. We were lucky, though, and the small sit-down area off to the side of the counter was fortunately not too busy.
A dessert-fueled throwback.
Dating back to shortly after the fall of the last emperor, Fuhuazhai (富华斋饽饽铺) has been a staple when it comes to traditional pastry shops in Beijing. It’s been preserving recipes for Chinese pastries and desserts that keep the atmosphere of Imperial China alive and has not, as of yet, been turned into a chain of carbon-copy stores, a relatively rare feat in modern-day China.
The shop, very noticeable for its distinct miniature-Forbidden-City look, is located on Huguosi Street (护国寺街), North-East of the palace museum and close to Shichahai (什刹海), standing in stark contrast to the relatively aseptic Starbucks next door.
The nods to imperial China are clear as you walk up to the store, with the façade being modelled after the palaces inside the Forbidden City, but the imperial-era decor doesn’t stop there. Every detail is a reminder of a bygone era, even on the inside where the seating area is furnished with traditional hardwood tables, armchairs and chaise-longues with cushions in a warm yellow hue, matching the antique, hand-painted china sets.
The pastry workshop is clearly visible from the front of the shop, giving you a front-row seat to admire skilled pastry chefs expertly shaping batches of dough and decorating cookies and dessert bowls with colourful accents.
Traditional Beijing opera is played in the background, and everything about the ambience is a throwback to the city’s imperial grandeur, carrying on the legacy of the current owner’s grandfather, an imperial chef whose recipes live on, passed down through generations.
Qing dynasty on a plate.
I'm a sucker for a layered pastry.
Croissants, puff pastry, scallion pancakes, pies and mooncakes. Anything flaky does it for me, so I dove into our selection of sweets expecting to fall for the pastry more than anything else, but I ended up discovering some new favourites.
Zilaibai (自来白) are typical Beijing-style mooncakes, with a layered crust that’s pale and white as the “bai” in the name suggests. Zilaihong (自来红) are their darker counterpart, made using the red sugar that gives the dough a darker amber colour. Both kinds use lard to achieve their trademark flakiness, but that doesn’t mean they’re oily or heavy. Fillings usually include nuts and flowers, seeds and sometimes tangerine peels.
The variety of options on the menu at Fuhuazhai is impressive, including rose and red bean, rose and chestnut, jujube, and a combination of melon seeds, walnuts and pine nuts. We chose 3 kinds to share to test the full variety, but the star of the show was the crust, so flaky it starts crumbling as soon as your lips touch it.
Yundoujuan (芸豆卷) are another traditional Beijing dessert. These kidney bean rolls were completely new to me. Made of a pillowy white bean dough rolled into a dome shape, they’re then cut into bite-sized pieces, revealing a mosaic-like cross-section with little tiles of tangy hawthorn jelly and sesame seeds.
The outer layer is a bean paste of kidney beans, cooked down until they reach the softest texture you can imagine - think mashed potatoes, even though the comparison doesn’t do it justice. Probably the least sugary treat of the bunch, with only a hint of sweetness, they’re usually served with tea and definitely worth trying to get an idea of how unexpected textures can be just as exciting as bold flavours.
As much as I enjoyed the bean rolls, the highlights of the morning were the two cold jellies we got: more familiar flavours in a completely new format for me, with very curious names that turn out to make quite a lot of sense when you think about them.
Almond tofu (杏仁豆腐) is a soft, jellied dessert served cold, with a delicate yet persistent almond flavour. The texture is very close to silken tofu, with a clear bitter almond note which I know can be divisive. Not overly sweet thanks to the bitter almond aroma, it was served cold, with a sprinkling of osmanthus flowers on top and an apricot kernel. I was delighted when I found admittedly less fancy versions of almond tofu in supermarkets pretty much everywhere I went - it quickly became my dessert of choice in the dog days of my summer in Taiwan.
Watermelon “cheese” (西瓜酪) is another traditional summer dessert in Beijing, with a name that sounds a bit unsettling on paper but that’s really just a fruit jelly. A seasonal item only available during the warmest days of the year and a June exclusive at Fuhuazhai, it’s unashamedly red, the colour of a ripe watermelon. It also tastes exactly like the fruit and, served chilled makes for an extremely refreshing treat.
Silky, smooth and refreshing, both of these were a perfect example of the subtle sweetness I’ve enjoyed so much, with a hint of very light syrup to make them even more slippery than a regular pudding.
Fuhuazhai Bobo Chinese Pastry Shop (富华斋饽饽铺)
1/F, Huguo Xintiandi, No.85 Huguosi Dajie, Xicheng District, Beijing
Opening hours: 09:00 - 21:’00
No such thing as a sweet tooth.
Pictures above, left to right: @chrisjorwu, @alexasoh, @chrisjorwu
Tanghulu 糖葫芦 Ph: @seelean
As you probably noticed from my description of the bites we had at Fuhuazhai, Chinese desserts are rarely as overpoweringly sweet as the rich cream-based puddings and decadent layered cakes that are mainstays in most Western countries: they are closer to light snacks to enjoy with tea throughout the day rather than intensely sweet bites to round up a meal. It’s not uncommon to hear someone praise a dessert saying it’s 不太甜, “not too sweet”.
Fluffy steamed buns with custard will be a familiar sight for tourists at every corner of any street market, together with the ubiquitous rows of tanghulu, hawthorn fruits coated in crunchy hardened rock sugar syrup, but sweet bites often feature grains and pulses as the centrepiece and play on texture as a core element in the experience.
Glutinous rice is often used for its chewy texture, typically paired with sesame paste, while sweet bean pastes are added as rich fillings in a variety of dishes. Compacted pea flour cakes are common in the North, but the chalky texture is a bit challenging for me, while the sweet/sour note of compact fruit jellies is much more to my taste.
Mooncakes with salted egg yolk. Photo: @hdhuong233
Probably the most well-known Chinese dessert, mooncakes come in different shapes and sizes, some being encased in layers of flaky pastry and others in a lightly sweet outer crust that's soft and moist. Fillings range from lotus seed paste to red beans and they often include a cured duck yolk, revealing a bright pop of orange when you cut into the cake. They're typically offered as prized gifts and eaten around the Lunar New Year festival.
Red bean paste pops up in many desserts, from buns to soups, and the sweet soup theme continues with mung bean soup, one of the simplest quick desserts you can whip together. It's just a matter of boiling mung beans until tender in lightly sweetened water and enjoying it hot or cold.
Bonus round: brown & beige bites.
Huguosi Street is known for the plethora of options it offers when it comes to snacks, with a lot of stores specialising in traditional Beijing food and snacks.
Just a couple of doors down from Fuhuazhai, we chose to have a second mid-morning snack for good measure, going for a more rustic ambiance this time. Coming straight from Fuhuazhai and the bright yellow interior, the old Beijing snacks and breakfast foods at Manguangji (满广 老北京爆肚) were a bit of a comedown - but just on a visual level.
Mostly beige and brown, the dishes are earthy and warm. Sesame paste comes as a dip for boiled tripe (爆肚), and as a sauce to be slurped up with 面茶, a smooth millet pudding that would’ve worked a charm on a chilly winter morning.
Around us, locals of a certain age went for fried dough sticks or youtiao (油条) and a crunchier, round version of them called jiaoquan (焦圈) to accompany their douzhi (豆汁), a warm and greyish liquid soup I’d tried years earlier and that I was not particularly interested in revisiting. A byproduct of the production of mung bean noodles, douzhi is definitely an acquired taste. Very runny, it takes on a slightly acidic taste and a fermented smell that’s easily detectable even from outside the stores selling it, amplified by the fact that it’s served warm.
Having tried it already and knowing any potential health benefits had already been offset by the amount of food we’d already sampled by 1 PM, we decided we could skip it. We did, however, figure sliced meats and sesame-encrusted buns filled with shredded beef were a bit more suited to the peak summer temperature, and we ended up getting those to go, as snacks for later in the day.
Getting there - and around Huguosi Street.
The closest metro station to Huguosi Street is Beihaibei, 北海北, just a quick walk away.
Photo: @wudan3551
The area is a nice spot to take a stroll and you’ll be sure to find any snacks you want, but if the Beijing opera soundtrack at Fuhuazhai struck a chord with you, it’s worth dropping by Mei Lanfang Memorial Hall at No.9, Huguosi Street. It’s the former residence of Mei Lanfang (梅兰芳), one of the most famous Beijing opera masters of the 20th century. Opening hours: 09:00-16:00 (Closed on Mondays).
Peking Opera emerged in the late 18th century and flourished under the Qing Dynasty. Initially exclusive to the imperial court elite, it gradually became more and more popular in the early 1900s, becoming accessible to the whole population.
Performed outdoors or in teahouses, Beijing opera developed a loud singing style and vibrant costumes. Traditionally, women were not allowed to perform and men played all the roles. Mei Lanfang (梅兰芳) was one of the most famous Beijing opera masters of the 20th century.
Wendy Show Beijing’s YouTube channel gives you a quick walking tour of Huguosi Street, a peek into Manguangji and some of the highlights when it comes to snacks you can find walking down the street.
Between flashing skyscrapers and the bustling streets of Shanghai, Lao Zheng Xing has been awarded one Michelin star for its celebration of traditional Shanghainese cuisine. The restaurant combines a non-pretentious ambience and affordable prices, serving classic dishes like drunken chicken, braised pork belly and Shanghai “smoked” fish.