SOUP INSIDE A DUMPLING? WHY XIAO LONG BAO WORKS (AND WHY IT'S WORTH THE MESS)
ow do you eat a dumpling filled with soup without making a mess?
That was my first question—one I asked myself more than once, completely baffled by the idea. Soup belongs in bowls. Dumplings are supposed to be sealed, tidy, self-contained. Putting hot liquid inside a dumpling felt less like innovation and more like a culinary dare.
At best, it sounded inconvenient. At worst, it sounded dangerous. Burned lips. Ruined shirts. A meal you have to apologize to afterward.
And yet, people kept insisting it worked.
y introduction to this contradiction came at Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao, a restaurant with roots in Shanghai's Nan Xiang region that opened on 33rd Street in Midtown Manhattan. It's the kind of place that gets recommended with confidence—and usually followed by "you'll see." Michelin Guide has been recommending it for years, which only raised expectations and skepticism in equal measure.
In this video, my wife and I check out the Xiao Long Bao—soup dumplings filled with hot, savory broth—for the first time. Definitely not our last visit.
This was not supposed to be a novelty stop. This was serious food. Which made the idea of soup inside a dumpling feel even more suspicious.
That skepticism lasted exactly one bite—specifically, one very bad bite.
I picked up my first soup dumpling, admired the delicate folds, and bit into it like a normal dumpling. Instantly, hot broth spilled out in every direction. Steam rushed up. Napkins were deployed too late. The table took damage. I learned nothing except humility.
That's when my wife stepped in with information that should honestly be printed on the menu.
The secret, she explained, is patience. You don't attack a soup dumpling. You approach it like it might explode—because it will.
You take a small bite from the top, just enough to release the steam. You wait. Then you sip the broth slowly, like it was meant to be there all along. Only after that do you eat the rest in one careful, deliberate bite.
It was a complete reset.
Suddenly, the dumpling made sense. The broth wasn't a trick or a hazard—it was the point. Rich, savory, deeply comforting, and somehow contained inside something so thin it felt structurally impossible. Soup inside a dumpling isn't reckless. It's engineered.
Lucky Six: pork soup dumpling, crab meat and pork soup dumpling, chicken soup dumpling, scallop and pork sooup dumpling, black truffle and pork soup dumpling, gourd luffa soup dumpling, and shrimp and pork soup dumpling.
Once I understood how Xiao Long Bao was meant to be eaten, I was fully in.
an Xiang Xiao Long Bao's menu goes well beyond soup dumplings, which is part of what keeps the place from feeling like a one-note destination. There's a wide and well-executed selection of Shanghainese dishes, the kind that reward repeat visits because you simply can't cover everything in one sitting.
One standout is the Lucky Six Soup Dumplings—a six-piece sampler featuring pork, crab meat and pork, chicken, scallop and pork, black truffle and pork, gourd luffa, and shrimp and pork. Each variation manages to feel distinct, reinforcing the idea that soup inside a dumpling isn't a gimmick, but a format worth exploring.
Beyond the dumplings, the Shanghai pork meatballs deliver exactly what you want from comfort food: rich, tender, and unapologetically filling. The seafood noodle soup is another highlight—simple, balanced, and quietly confident.
Fresh seafood, tender noodles, and a broth that hits just right—Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao's Seafood Noodle Soup gets it.
Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao's "Lion's Head" pork meatballs are huge, slow-braised, and ridiculously tender. One bite and they basically fall apart in your mouth—comfort food that doesn't mess around.
What stood out most was consistency. Nearly everything we tried, my wife and I genuinely loved. Not "this is fine" loved, but "we should come back and order this again" loved. That matters. It's also why you should expect to visit more than once if you want to do the menu justice.
The Take
oup inside a dumpling sounds like a mistake until you accept that food doesn't exist to protect you—it exists to reward attention. Xiao Long Bao isn't chaotic; it's precise. The mess only happens when you rush or assume it behaves like every other dumpling you've ever eaten.
This is food that demands patience. You slow down, release the steam, sip the broth, and only then commit. Do it right and the payoff is immediate: something richer, warmer, and more intentional than soup or dumpling alone.
Once you experience a dumpling that carries its own broth, dry dumplings start to feel incomplete. Not bad—just unfinished. Soup inside a dumpling isn't a novelty. It's a quiet flex. And like most good ideas in food, it only sounds wrong until you taste it. (APJ)
In this video, my wife and I check out the Xiao Long Bao—soup dumplings filled with hot, savory broth—for the first time. Definitely not our last visit.
Lucky Six: pork soup dumpling, crab meat and pork soup dumpling, chicken soup dumpling, scallop and pork sooup dumpling, black truffle and pork soup dumpling, gourd luffa soup dumpling, and shrimp and pork soup dumpling.
Fresh seafood, tender noodles, and a broth that hits just right—Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao's Seafood Noodle Soup gets it.
Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao's "Lion's Head" pork meatballs are huge, slow-braised, and ridiculously tender. One bite and they basically fall apart in your mouth—comfort food that doesn't mess around.