Ningbo has a lot in common with Shanghai. Like the Ming-style courtyard homes which used to dot both of these cities (Ningbo still has a few left, as you can see below). Ningbo also has a Bund, although it now bears little resemblance to its former self. In fact, in the days before the Opium Wars, Ningbo had far more economic gravity than Shanghai – and when the trade winds shifted north, many Ningbo (and Cantonese) traders headed there to do business . They brought their food with them – many Shanghainese seafood dishes were birthed in this significantly older city. Though, over the years, they've been adapted to meet Shanghai's demanding sweet tooth.

I didn’t really do much more than scratch the surface during my two days here, but I did manage to eat well. I like Ningbo’s market-style restaurants – where you select your fish, clams, prawns, squid or whatever else strikes your fancy, and they quickly cook it for you in a simple, restrained manner. The cooking is very straightforward – salt, a few preserved vegetables, and ginger are the primary flavoring agents, and garlic, soy and sugar are used sparingly. It allows the flavors of the fresh seafood to shine through, rather than be bullied by heavy sauces. Case in point, these tiny fish below in a light soy and yellow wine broth:

The quintessential Ningbo dish is yellow croaker cooked with mustard greens, some matchsticks of bamboo, and a dash of rice wine. The fish is remarkably mild (almost, but not quite tasteless) and the two treatments of the dish I had here didn’t overpower the fish’s subtlety. Here’s the one I ate at Lao Ningbo, yesterday at lunch time:

But the best thing I gobbled down was a stew made from huang dou (yellow soybeans) and pig’s feet. It was thick and richly filling, but very simple. The only flavors, save for the pork, soybeans and salt, was a smattering of chopped green onions on top. It reminded me of my mother’s navy bean soup.

The freshest seafood I encountered here was the humblest. Like these miniscule squid, stir fried with jiu cai. It seems very likely that many of these recipes haven't changed in hundreds of years. Except for the advent of msg, of course, whose subtle tingle kept me reaching for Ningbo's remarkably watery local beer (1.9% alcohol). That's a soft drink in most places.

I’m not sure if the food in Ningbo warrants a trip (after all, you can find all of this at Ningbo restaurants in Shanghai) but when the Hangzhou Bay Bridge opens this May 2nd it might. The quiet lanes of Ningbo, and the beautiful Tian Yi Ge library that lies within them, will only be a two hour drive away.