Eat at the Grand Hyatt and expectations are high. Appetizers and pizzas average ¥120; main courses, ¥230; windows frame spectacular views of the Pearl Tower. The measured atmosphere – tables are centered around an open kitchen and a brick oven – relaxes the hotel stiffness a bit, making Cucina feel more trattoria than formal restaurant.

Behold, the nice face of Julu Lu. Directly opposite the street’s last strip of seediness lies Leting Jasmine, the domestic house of privilege and expensive cars. It’s a villa of fine Chinese food for fine, entitled people. The more entitled, the higher one goes.

“I’m afraid it’s not the right season.” Thus the waitress politely rebufed our order for edamame. Were it not for the hewn granite surrounds, you might feel uncomfortable. As it is, you’re half tempted to hug her. Or, better yet, climb atop the polished granite and just sprawl, lion-like, across the sushi prep table.

Leather jackets, beat-up Adidas, a communal guitar. It’s worth lingering over dinner to spot all three – the latter brought out from behind the counter, the others worn by almost everyone that enters after 10pm. Prior to that, every last customer is white.

Fumin and Julu - the expat crossroads. Guyi, La Grange, Coconut Paradise, Mesa, Otto. Their draw is enough to keep A Mao almost exclusively Shanghainese, packing this little restaurant so regularly that they've had to open a second, more modern branch half a block farther down Fumin Lu.

“It’s the soup of the future,” declared our friends as they flipped molded tubes of fishcake in the bowl. It was a small pot, packed with scarily processed shapes swimming in a light broth. A fritter of tofu, sesame, and chopped vegetables bobbed to the surface. Another extruded tube bumped against the konnyaku, a flecked yam jelly the color of dirty mop water.

Secret Garden has the decor of a half-assed Yongfoo Elite. That’s a compliment. The sniffy Yongfoo Elite mansion is gorgeous, but the knick-knacks and interior design are all carefully curated for maximum “eccentric” effect.

When you start considering the lawn-chairs in front of the restaurant as a viable option in a rainstorm, you know something inside is amiss. It starts with the Disney soundtrack – Nemo theme songs to sweeten the taste of the ¥3,380 abalone.

There are a few obstacles in the way of Hazara’s great food. Service is certainly one.

Izakayas were once down-at-heel places, somewhere for salarymen to loosen their ties, pop edamame, and pound sake. Today, they're a broader church – fancier food, longer menus, wider audience.