PETALING JAYA, Oct 18 — Of the soup-filled dumplings to come out of Shanghai, shengjian bao has enjoyed far less love than its sibling, the xiaolong bao, famous the world over. 

Maybe it just isn’t dainty enough. 

After all, the thin, delicate skin of the xiaolong bao is a big part of its appeal: successfully wrangling one with our chopsticks and slurping the soup in a genteel manner feels like the work of an erudite epicure, especially when a friend reaches for a straw and still spills soup all over themselves. 

The ensuing feeling is a momentary but powerful hit of that sweet, sweet dopamine.

Straws are for suckers, we say, more smug than any dumpling has a right to make us. 

But all of this is likely just fantasy. 

Realistically, the global popularity of the xiaolong bao came about almost entirely from the success of a single company: Din Tai Fung. 

Without that kind of corporate backing, shengjian bao has had to rely on the disparate, grassroots efforts of countless street vendors and mom-and-pop shops. 

Fitting, as it has always been the more rustic of the two — in every way. 

Closer to a bun than a dumpling, shengjian bao is made with semi-leavened dough — it rises more than a flatbread, but not like a puffy bun — and envelops the same pork and gelatin mixture that turns into soup after cooking. Instead of being gently steamed in a bamboo basket, it is traditionally fried in an oiled pan, with water sprinkled or sprayed over the top during cooking. 

The moisture steams the inside through while the bottom of the bun crisps up on the pan, like wo tip (potstickers) or gyoza. 

More substantial and durable than xiaolong bao, shengjian bao has been a popular breakfast and street food in Shanghai since the 1920s, its crunchy bottom and thicker dough making it considerably more portable.

But it hasn’t quite broken through in Malaysia, so your best bet for shengjian bao is places like Jia Yu Fang. 

Located in Damansara Utama, the restaurant is barely a month old and has done little to update the decor left by the previous tenant. 

Instead, all the attention seems to have gone into the shengjian bao (RM3 per piece). 

For what looks like a quick, simple snack, they take a while to arrive — on my third and most recent visit, I learned that each bao is cooked to order. 

A fresh batch is made every day, but steaming and frying them takes close to 10 minutes, which feels like an age thanks to the restaurant’s insistence on playing an endless loop of smooth jazz à la Kenny G. 

When they do arrive, however, they are more than worth the wait — even the additional one or two minutes you’ll need to avoid burning the roof of your mouth. 

The inside was scalding hot, but when it had cooled enough to eat, the soup was sweet, very sweet, but resulting in a clean, refreshing sensation rather than a cloying one. 

The pork and soup had a fresh, pure depth of flavour that’s often called xian tian (鲜甜) in Chinese, while the bottom of the bun was crunchy and caramelised too. 

Whether you’re eating it on its own or dipping it in some vinegar, these shengjian bao are some of the best you’ll find in the Klang Valley. 

Much of the rest of the menu was deserving of praise, but the red braised pork (RM46) in particular stood out. 

Shanghai-style red braised pork is well known for being much sweeter and richer than the classic Hunan variation, and this was no different. 

Where the sweetness described earlier carried a refreshing, crisp undertone, this was on the other end of the spectrum: rich, sticky and clinging to the lips long after the last bite of pork. 

All that soft, fatty cloyingness calls for something tangy, sharp and crunchy to balance it out, which the restaurant provides… in the form of a housemade kimchi that’s well impressive.

But the biggest surprise on the menu has to be the chilli green egg (RM18). It’s an exceedingly simple dish of eggs stir-fried with green peppers and onions, yet there is something unbelievably addictive about it. 

The eggs are formed into thin, fluffy strips, similar in shape and length to the slivers of pepper, which boast a wonderfully smoky and savoury flavour. A bowl of rice and this? My happy place.

Will shengjian bao ever get its own Din Tai Fung to carry it into malls around the world? 

It seems unlikely. 

For now, the case in Malaysia is being made one bun at a time by Jia Yu Fang, barely a month old and making a very fine argument on the dumpling’s behalf. 

Yes, you’ll wait, and yes, there will probably be smooth jazz. But come and order it anyway.

Jia Yu Fang Restaurant

72G, Jalan SS21/62, 

Damansara Utama, Petaling Jaya.

Open Tuesday to Sunday, 10.30am—10pm

Tel: 017-356 6897

Facebook: Jia Yu Fang Restaurant

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau.