This article is part of our Founder Series, a collection of articles written by Lost Plate’s founder Ruixi Hu. These articles share stories about her journey building Lost Plate to what it is today, and the memories that she has collected over the years.
When people talk about Chengdu, they usually start with pandas and hot pot. But take it from me — I was born and raised here — that’s only scratching the surface. Food is the real language of this city. Chengdu lives and breathes flavor, from bubbling hot pot broth layered with depth and spice to humble “fly restaurants” where the chairs might wobble, but the cooking is pure art.
Here are five of my personal favorites that capture the essence of Sichuan cuisine — and yes, we’re starting where every true Chengdu local would: hot pot.
Growing up, this was the place my family’s to-go hotpot — the anticipation of “we’re going to Laoma” started a week in advance. It wasn’t just a restaurant, it was an event. Even today, when there’s something important to celebrate, families still gather here.
The broth is signature Chengdu: bold, fragrant, spicy without being overpowering, and less oily than the beef-fat broths you’ll find in Chongqing. Their yuanyang pot (half-spicy, half-mild) is perfect for first-timers and yes, the soup is drinkable — rare for hotpot.
Must try dishes:
Address: No. 106 Qintai Road, Caotang District
What To Put In Your Didi: 皇城老妈火锅 琴台店
Maps: Google Map (requires VPN in China) or Chinese Map
💡 Pro tip: Go with a group — hotpot is all about sharing, and it’s the best way to try more dishes.
Chen Liangfen—the namesake cold noodles—traces its roots to the late Qing, when Zhao Jinshan hawked his spicy, numbing, silky bowls through Dongzikou with white, yellow, and buckwheat varieties. By the 1930s he opened “Dongzikou Zhao’s Liangfen,” and the dish was so famed it was flown to wartime Chongqing, sealing its status as a Sichuan classic.
Every Chengdu local has their go-to “fly restaurant,” and this one’s mine. It’s been quietly serving for 70+ years with old-school Sichuan flavors that taste like my childhood, not the glossy new stuff. Plates roll out on a cart—grab fast. Find your own table, snag your own stool, and dig in. When you’re done, the waiter tallies the bill by plate shape.
💡 Pro tip: Want to taste Chengdu like a true local? Join our Chengdu 4-day trip and we’ll take you straight to this no-frills legend.
For a long time, Sichuan food was considered “too rustic” for fine dining. Xujiacai proved everyone wrong. With one Michelin star, it’s the place that shows how Sichuan flavors can be refined without losing their soul.
Every dish is carefully balanced, layered, and plated with elegance. It’s where you realize Sichuan pepper can be subtle, not just numbing.
Must try dishes:
Address: 6th Floor, Renhe New City Shopping Center, No. 505 West Section of Fucheng Avenue
What To Put In Your Didi: 许家菜·艺创菜(仁和新城店)
Maps: Google Map (requires VPN in China) or Chinese Map
💡 Pro tip: Go for a tasting menu if available — it’s the best way to appreciate the chef’s range of flavors.
This place feels less like a restaurant and more like a party. Crowded tables, stools spilling onto the sidewalk, everyone dipping skewers into bowls of chili oil. It’s messy, noisy, and absolutely worth it.
Here, skewers of meat and vegetables are soaked in spicy red oil, bursting with chili and Sichuan peppercorn. Pair it with rice or cooling desserts and you’ll understand why locals line up at mealtimes.
Must try dishes:
Address: No. 16, Building 18, North Caotang Road
What To Put In Your Didi: 乐山鲜知味钵钵鸡(草堂北路店)
Maps: Google Map (requires VPN in China) or Chinese Map
💡 Pro tip: Grab popular skewers like potato slices and duck gizzards early — they run out fast.
This noodle shop has been around for almost 30 years, and sitting outside on a tiny stool with a steaming bowl in hand is one of those “only in Chengdu” experiences. When the indoor seats fill up — and they always do — regulars just line the sidewalk. Everyone gets a low stool to sit on and a taller stool to balance their bowl, creating a scene of diners perched along the street, slurping noodles shoulder to shoulder.
The bowls are big, the flavors are bold, and the whole experience feels like time travel to an older, slower Chengdu.
Must try dishes:
Address: No. 8, Unit 15, West Xiaojihe 1st Alley
What To Put In Your Didi: 拜居奇味面(肖家河店)
Maps: Google Map (requires VPN in China) or Chinese Map
💡 Pro tip: Don’t rush — half the fun is soaking in the street-side atmosphere while you eat.
This is one of my favorite chaoshou spots in Chengdu. The kind of place every local knows and loves. They’ve been hand-folding these Sichuan-style wontons for generations, and each one tastes like home.
Fun fact: dumplings don’t have “arms,” but chaoshou do. In Sichuan, we call wontons chaoshou because the way they’re wrapped looks like someone crossing their arms across their chest. Back in the day, people would line up on the street for a hot bowl, naturally crossing their arms while they waited. The shape and the gesture became one, and the name stuck.
💡 Pro tip: Try all five flavors, from mild to fiery, and find out which one wins your heart or burns your tongue first. It’s so good we made this family-run spot a must-stop on our Chengdu Evening Food Tour.
From hotpot temples where families still gather for milestones, to noodle shops where strangers share stools on the sidewalk, Chengdu is a city where food tells stories. These six restaurants are more than just places to eat — they’re snapshots of the city’s culture, past and present.
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In the spring of 2020, the world slowed down, but my mind did not. Like so many others in China’s travel industry, Lost Plate’s food tours came to a sudden halt when the pandemic closed borders. With no international guests, no tours, and no idea when things would return to normal, I found myself asking the same question as everyone else: what now?
Some meals are about flavors. Others are about memory. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, a meal becomes a doorway into someone else’s world, where stories and laughter matter just as much as the food on the plate. That’s exactly what I found in a small village outside Yangshuo, where I sat down to one of the most unforgettable meals of my life. But this wasn’t a restaurant in the usual sense. It was someone’s actual home.
Ask any Shanghainese person, “What does Shanghai taste like?” and you’ll likely hear about its rich, soy-infused cuisine, a steaming bowl of scallion oil noodles, or perfectly crisp Shengjianbao. But one dish that truly captures the essence of the city’s food culture is “Baoyu,” or Shanghai-style fried fish.