Nan Xiang’s vegetarian options are a mixed bag. They do have a few standout dishes, like the 'Buddha’s Delight' (a hearty mix of tofu and veggies), but the menu leans heavily toward meat. If you’re dining with omnivores, it works fine—you won’t go hungry. But if you’re expecting a dedicated veggie experience, you might leave wishing for more variety. The flavors are authentic, though, so what they lack in quantity, they make up for in taste.
I was pleasantly surprised by Nan Xiang's offerings. Their 'Eight Treasure Vegetarian Duck' is a clever mock meat dish made with mushrooms and tofu skin—it captures the texture really well! The 'Dry-Fried String Beans' are another favorite of mine; they’ve got that perfect wok hei smokiness without any meat additions.
Just a heads-up, though: some items labeled 'vegetarian' might still use oyster sauce or shrimp paste, so double-checking with the server is wise. It’s not a dealbreaker, but being cautious helps. I’d rate their veggie selection as decent for a non-vegetarian spot—enough to enjoy a meal without feeling limited.
Nan Xiang Restaurant is one of those places I've visited a few times with friends, and their menu does have some vegetarian-friendly choices, though it's not the main focus. They specialize in Shanghainese cuisine, which traditionally includes a lot of meat and seafood, but there are still dishes like 'Braised Bamboo Shoots' or 'Stir-Fried Seasonal Greens' that are solid options. I remember their 'Vegetarian Spring Rolls' being particularly crispy and flavorful—definitely worth trying if you're looking for something light.
That said, if you're a strict vegetarian, it's good to ask about broth or sauce ingredients since some might contain traces of meat or seafood stock. The staff has always been helpful when I've asked for adjustments, though availability might vary depending on location. It's not a fully vegetarian restaurant, but with a bit of menu navigation, you can find satisfying choices.
2026-04-07 00:01:59
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Scammed at My Sister’s Restaurant
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I had my meal and was about to leave my sister's restaurant, but the manager stopped me. "Sorry, sir, but you haven't paid your tab."
I never saw this guy before. He probably had no idea who I was. Kindly, I explained, "Put it on your boss' tab. She knows what to do."
The manager instead gave me a look of derision. "Sir, we're a 3-star Michelin restaurant. We do not put anyone's bill on another person's tab."
He handed me an itemized bill. The guy had it ready and printed.
I went through the list.
The meal alone cost 75 grand.
The 'dining utensil gleam maintenance fee' ran up to 45 hundred.
There was also an exclusive air purifier fee, which would cost 75 hundred.
And there was a 'VIP calm headspace service fee' that ran up to 15 grand.
Those were the ones that stood out, but they were far from the last.
I had no idea my sister was running an extortion gig. Mirthlessly, I laughed. "I'm your boss' brother. Tell her she's talking to me when she comes home."
The manager did not let me go. "Just say you can't afford it. You're not the first one to try and claim you know Ms. Grayheim. I know leeches like you well enough."
I texted my secretary. 'Tell my sister she either fires this guy, or I pull my funds out.'
"It's really hard to see the person who you love with another. Especially when he has more of them. All-day I watch him connect with these others. He does not even spare me a glance. Well, why would he? I am just a subject in his eyes."Lui Xian for years has been in love with the Emperor the man who owns every flower. Can he ever be enough for him? Or will he find someone who sees him?
Right in the middle of the workday, my coworker, Stanley Graham, suddenly jumps up and slaps me on the shoulder.
"Next week is Mr. Todd's birthday. Since your family runs a seafood restaurant, I'll tell you what—I'll chip in 99 bucks to treat the whole department at your place to celebrate!"
He starts counting dishes on his fingers. "We need lobster and king crab. The fish has to be a fresh-killed red snapper. Don't skimp on the appetizers, and keep the beer and sodas flowing. Oh, and keep an eye on the shellfish. Mr. Todd has gout. Do a good job. Don't embarrass our department."
He nudges me with a smirk. "When Mr. Todd walks away happy, he'll probably throw a massive bonus your way. You'll be laughing all the way to the bank. You make money, you get the credit, and the boss is happy. Dylan, you seriously owe me one."
I stare at him, completely baffled. My family owns a small diner. Where on earth are we getting seafood from?
The moment I flatly refuse, Stanley rolls his eyes and walks off.
That night, a sign-up list pops up in the company group chat.
"Mr. Todd's birthday is this Saturday! I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast. Eat as much as you want, and you can bring your family too. Add your name to the list if you're in!"
The chat immediately erupts into cheers. In less than ten minutes, over 50 people sign up.
"My dad's never even had lobster. Thanks to Stanley, he finally gets to experience something new!"
"My kid loves tuna. Save a few extra portions for him!"
Stanley promises everyone everything. After dropping a location pin in the chat, he transfers 99 dollars to me.
"Dylan, take the cash. Make sure the ingredients are top-notch. Don't rip off your own coworkers."
I take a closer look at the location and smile.
It is the high-end seafood restaurant right next to my family's diner. The owner is a reformed gangster with tattoos climbing all the way up to his jaw.
The last guy who tried to walk out on a bill there still can't get out of bed.
Xue Han, a fierce general who loves his peace more than anything, hates loud people the most. He is feared throughout the capital for he was appointed General when he was barely eighteen years old. He has never lost a battle since then. One day he falls in love with the Cheng siblings who are very close to each other and love one another the most. Would his love for these two cause trouble for these siblings or will it bring the two closer to one another?
I knew perfectly well that people from the Emirates do not eat pork.
Yet this time, I watched in silence as my husband's childhood sweetheart insisted on placing a pork dish on the table. In fact, I even supported her decision.
In my past life, when our company hosted a welcome banquet for powerful investors from the Emirates, she had been desperate to flaunt her cooking. Against all reason, she forced a pork dish onto the menu.
I stopped her then. I explained that pork was forbidden by religious belief, and that offending the investors could cost us everything. If they withdrew their funding, the company's finances would collapse overnight.
She took my warning as jealousy. In a fit of rage, she ran out of the banquet hall and was struck by a car, leaving her in a permanent vegetative state.
I thought my husband would break down. Instead, he remained calm, stayed through the dinner, and secured the investment in surprisingly calmness.
The truth revealed itself later. After the company went public, he brought me abroad under the guise of business, only to drag me onto a medical ship in international waters.
As my kidney was cut from my body, I cried and asked him why.
His answer came with a slap.
"If you hadn't been jealous back then... If you hadn't tried to sabotage her, she wouldn't have ended up like that."
I died in agony on the operating table.
After my death, he used the money from selling my organs to cure his beloved childhood sweetheart, and the two of them went on to live rich, comfortable lives together.
And then I opened my eyes again, back to the very day she decided to serve pork to the clients.
Even though I knew cows were sacred to the Indorians, I still supported their biological daughter in her plan to serve beef at the dinner table of Indoria's wealthiest man.
In my previous life, the wealthiest man in Indoria had held a nationwide contest to choose a wife. My sister had fought her way to the final round and planned to make a beef and veggie stew for the ultimate cooking challenge.
I rushed to stop her, warning that in Indoria's religion, cows were considered holy, and eating beef could have serious legal consequences.
However, my sister thought I was deliberately humiliating her for being "uncultured." In a fit of anger, she ran out, only to be struck and killed by a car.
My adoptive parents tried to console me, telling me it was not my fault, that it was simply bad luck.
Later, thanks to my exceptional cooking skills, I became the wife of Indoria's wealthiest man.
Yet on the very day of my wedding, my adoptive parents sold me to the slums.
That night, as eight men assaulted me one after another, I cried and demanded to know why.
They kicked me viciously and spat:
"If you hadn't made things difficult for Janet, she wouldn't have died. You owe her this!"
By the end of that night, I had bled to death.
Meanwhile, my adoptive parents used the money given by Indoria's wealthiest man to build a lavish tomb for their biological daughter.
When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my sister was about to serve her beef and veggie stew to Indoria's wealthiest man.
Nan Xiang Restaurant is a spot I’ve visited a few times with my little cousins, and honestly, it’s pretty accommodating for families. The staff are warm and quick to bring high chairs or booster seats if you ask. The menu isn’t overly spicy by default, so there are plenty of mild options like steamed dumplings or sweet-and-sour dishes that kids usually enjoy. They even have smaller portions or can split orders for picky eaters.
The space can get a bit crowded during peak hours, which might overwhelm younger kids, but earlier visits around lunchtime are quieter. I’d recommend avoiding the weekend dinner rush if your child is noise-sensitive. Bonus: the colorful soup dumplings often distract them long enough for adults to eat in peace!
Nan Xiang Restaurant is a treasure trove of Shanghainese flavors, and their xiaolongbao is practically legendary. The delicate, paper-thin wrappers encasing piping hot, savory broth and tender pork filling are a masterclass in dumpling craftsmanship. I still recall the first time I bit into one—the burst of rich, umami-packed soup was pure magic. Their crab roe xiaolongbao, a seasonal specialty, takes it up a notch with briny sweetness woven into the mix.
Beyond dumplings, their braised pork belly ('hongshao rou') is a must-try—glazed in sticky, caramelized soy sauce and so tender it melts on the tongue. Pair it with their crispy-bottomed scallion pancakes, and you’ve got a meal that’s comfort food perfection. Their cold appetizers, like drunken chicken marinated in Shaoxing wine, also shine with subtle, aromatic depth.
I was just craving some soup dumplings the other day and thought about swinging by Nan Xiang! From what I recall, they usually open around 11 AM for lunch and stay open until 9:30 PM or so on weekdays. Weekends might have slightly extended hours—maybe until 10 PM? But honestly, it’s always smart to check their website or call ahead, especially if you’re planning a late-night dumpling run. I remember one time I showed up 30 minutes before closing, and the kitchen was already winding down. Pro move: aim for mid-afternoon when the lunch rush dies down; you’ll get fresh batches without the wait.
Fun side note: If you’re into their xiao long bao, try pairing it with the vinegar ginger sauce and a side of dan dan noodles. Their menu’s got depth beyond the classics, but those soup dumplings are the real stars. The place has this buzzy, communal vibe that makes it perfect for group hangs, too.
Nan Xiang Restaurant is this iconic spot in Flushing, Queens—specifically in the bustling New World Mall food court. I stumbled upon it years ago while hunting for authentic xiao long bao, and it’s been my go-to ever since. The place has this unpretentious vibe, with steam baskets piled high and the aroma of ginger and pork broth hanging in the air. What’s wild is how it’s managed to carve out a reputation alongside Manhattan’s flashier dim sum spots. Flushing feels like a culinary secret; you’ve got this whole underground network of stalls and restaurants where the food does all the talking. Nan Xiang’s location is perfect—just chaotic enough to feel real, but not so chaotic that you can’t savor those soupy dumplings in peace.
Their original spot is on 39-16 Prince Street, and it’s got this no-frills charm that makes the experience better. I love how it’s tucked away, like you’re in on some shared knowledge with other food nerds. The mall itself is a rabbit hole of flavors—after Nan Xiang, I usually wander over for scallion pancakes or hand-pulled noodles nearby. It’s one of those places that reminds me why I bother with subway trips to Queens. The location might not be glamorous, but the food? Absolute magic.