Late last week, in the midst of a billowy downpour of willow and poplar pollen, the dumpling craving was in full swing. Luckily, in the Back Lakes area there is an interesting experiment going on. Responding to the growth of both Western and provincial cuisines in the city (the latter of which sweeps through with tsunamic ferocity on a regular basis), Nine Snacks (the public face of the Old-Beijing Traditional Snacks Maintenance and Development Association) does its best to offer old-school Beijing tasties…not least of which are some stunning dumplings.

This is the sort of place – chaotic, loud, crowded, full of energy and energetic eaters – that food people craving something both new and old can find a happy home. It’s also comforting in its anachronistic willingness to push back against the wholesale transformation of the city. Like the small – but vocal and inspired – groups working to preserve the hutongs, Nine Snacks is struggling to preserve culinary traditions that while not exactly on the edge of extinction, are subject to forces that threaten their relevance to the new city and its inhabitants.

Cooked until tender, the fat buttery soft, dusted with salt and pepper, and then deep fried until crispy, these ribs defy satisfactory description. They are served simply, with only a little bowl of finely ground Sichuan pepper on the side.

The sharp flowery bite of the sichuan pepper, the uncutousness of the melted fat, and the sweetness of the meat combined to do something quite extraordinary: change the game for me when it comes to pork. If I cannot match – somehow – the experience of that first bite sometime in the next year or so…I’m going to have to initiate an annual Santiago de Compostela-like pilgramage to Xiao Wang’s Family Restaurant in South Chaoyang. Really. That good.

After a morning doing the obligatory pilgrimage to Tiananmen, climbing various gates and gawking at humanity in all its splendor, we went in search of a well-regarded dim sum place. Which brings me to a side rant about food sections in guide books: by and large they are simply useless, written by people for whom guiding seems to be a somewhat secondary concern, with addresses and directions pulled – seemingly – from the dark recesses of somewhere but having little if any real relationship to reality. Then, of course, there is the reality of a vast and vastly changing city and the inevitabilities of city dining scenes the world over: stuff opens, closes, changes locations, becomes gloriously successfully, or jaw-droppingly horrible. Something happened, in any case, to the dim sum place, and it was no longer.

Turns out, a few blocks away on Wangfujing Street is the Oriental Plaza, in the basement of which is a place called Food Republic. Food Republic is one of those places that can only exist where there are lots of people, there is disposable income, there is a good blend of technology and service, and there is good food. Similar to Movenpick (at least before they decided it wouldn’t work well in the US), Food Republic requires you to buy a stored value card at the outset, and then turns you loose on stall after stall of fresh – very fresh – food. Imagine noodles (going from stretched and beaten to the pot), rice dishes (veggies added in front of you), sushi (sliced in front of you), congee (seasoned and ladled in front of you), baskets of shumai, hargow, chicken’s feet, and so on and so on.

Importantly, however, there is also a splendid little stall the does on thing really, really well. It does soup dumplings, a number of different kinds. And they are all absolutely delicious. Made in front of you, each filled and pinched, and steamed, and – if you want – pan fried, and then delivered to your tray hot accompanied by vinegar and chilies. This is street food no longer on the street. There is a lot of that in China. And, combined with street food that is still of and on the street, it makes up the new China.