• Sophie Steiner has been living in Shanghai for over a decade, and has traveled to nearly every province in China.
• Her favorite dining cities include Hangzhou, Shangri-La, and Guiyang.
• In contrast, the subdued flavors she tasted in Nanjing left her disappointed.

After a decade of exploring China's culinary landscape — from the shifting-sand deserts of western Xinjiang to the tropical rainforests of southern Yunnan, I've indulged in an ingredient lineup that would fit in the script of "Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern."

My journey began in 2015 with a curiosity to explore regional Chinese cuisine. It has evolved into an obsession with the unparalleled gastronomic offerings of this vast country. From street snacks to fine dining, my palate has undergone an epic odyssey.

Here are three Chinese epicurean destinations worth the trek, and one that fell flat.

About an hour by high-speed rail from Shanghai, where I've been living for over 10 years, Hangzhou is best known for its UNESCO-listed West Lake, tea plantations, and one of China's most refined regional cuisines.

Beyond the classics — like braised and lacquered pork, shrimp stir-fried with hyper-local Dragon Well tea leaves, beggar's chicken, and West Lake fish in vinegar sauce — the cuisine encompasses an array of dishes passed down for generations.

Wandering the backstreets near West Lake on a recent trip, I came across Wuzi Mianguan, a humble noodle shop with Michelin recognition. Here, hand-pulled noodles are wok-fried with toppings like oil-splash eel, river shrimp, and sautéed pork liver or steeped in a fragrant broth with mustard greens and bamboo shoots.

On the high end of the dining spectrum, Song at the Four Seasons Hotel is a sanctuary for all things Zhejiang comfort food, including the signature crispy pigeon leg, laced with a citrusy nip of Sichuan peppercorn heat

In 2020, during my second visit to Yunnan province, I traveled five hours north by train from Kunming to Shangri-La, the high-altitude region along the Tibetan border. Here, the food shifts as dramatically as the scenery.

China's most diverse province, home to the country's highest number of minority groups, blends Tibetan, Yunnanese, and Sichuan influences into hearty dishes featuring yak meat and highland barley, shaped by the rugged landscape.

Dining in Shangri-La is rooted in community. After a 14-hour hike through village-dotted mountains I was welcomed to my guesthouse owner's family table for bubbling yak hotpot captured Yunnan's warmth and hospitality.

My days often began with sweet highland barley pancakes and creamy Tibetan milk tea, followed by spiced yak dumplings for lunch and a communal dinner of cumin-flecked lamb ribs and wild mountain fungi.

An unexpected staple is yak-milk cheese, ranging from firm, Parmesan-like wedges to soft curds. It's best paired with a glass of Shangri-La Cabernet.

Then there's Guiyang, Guizhou's capital, a city rich in minority heritage in southwest China. During my first visit in 2021, I discovered its food strikes the perfect balance of punchy sourness and spice.

Sitting on a tiny stool in a smoke-filled room echoing with the clink of Tsingtao bottles, the hiss of sizzling woks, and the cheers of inebriated patrons, I slurped my first sour fish soup — a staple that has become the province's signature dish, and for good reason.

The addictively fermented tomato broth is seasoned with floral peppercorn, coriander, lemongrass, and ginger. A buttery river fish simmers within it, surrounded by everything from leafy greens and sliced bamboo to tofu and mushrooms.

After sunset, the city transforms into one sprawling night market, with plastic tables and chairs lining Quanlin Pedestrian Street. A nightly feast often involves laoguo, a form of dry pot that pairs perfectly with a frothy beer. While this quintessential street-dining culture is becoming rarer in China's major cities, it's alive and well in Guiyang, drawing me back year after year.

In Nanjing, one of China's ancient capitals, the food left me underwhelmed.

While the food culture there is sophisticated, with a deep devotion to duck, I found the flavors to be muted. The city's famous salted duck is cured, poached, and served cold, lacking the punch and crunch I crave.

Similarly, many rave about the duck blood vermicelli soup, a signature dish of the city, yet the textural symmetry between jelly-like coagulated duck blood cubes and soft vermicelli noodles I find mushy and bland.

Nanjing's cuisine emphasizes gentle, savory flavors, but for someone accustomed to the bold spices of other regions, it feels flat and, at times, overly sweet, leaving me longing for the robust tastes I have come to love in other parts of the country.