Lijiang vegetarian feast

A craving for something green

My boyfriend, Josh, and I spent much of our time wandering through Lijiang’s ancient town, stopping whenever something caught our attention. We tried whatever looked interesting, sampled unfamiliar dishes, and happily indulged in the city’s generous use of spices.

But after days of eating our way through rich broths, fatty cuts of meat, and dishes generously coated in oil, we began to crave something a little different. As much as we loved the bold flavors, everything was starting to feel rather heavy. We wanted vegetables, something lighter, and perhaps a meal that wouldn’t leave us feeling as though we needed to lie down immediately afterward.

In short, we wanted a salad. Desperately.

We asked one of the staff at our hotel if he could recommend a place that served vegetable-forward dishes, preferably somewhere that would give our stomachs a little break from all the meat and oil. He kindly pointed us in the right direction, and the following day, we set off to find it.

Our destination was another of Lijiang’s old towns, where we spent nearly an hour navigating its winding lanes and maze-like pathways. Just when we thought we might have taken a wrong turn, we came across a small gate that looked more like the entrance to someone’s private home than a restaurant.

Naturally, we hesitated. The last thing we wanted was to accidentally trespass on someone’s property in a foreign country.

A little more exploring revealed that this was, in fact, a small vegetarian eatery tucked inside a traditional home. It was the sort of place you could easily walk past without ever knowing it existed. There were no grand signboards or elaborate storefronts to draw you in, just a modest entrance and the promise of something waiting inside.

Only one table was occupied. We exchanged a glance, felt a little uncertain, and decided to take a chance.

Sometimes, the best meals begin exactly this way.

The unexpected vegetarian feast

Ordering was an adventure in itself. Armed with our translator apps and a fair amount of patience, Josh and I somehow managed to communicate what we wanted. While waiting for our food, we were served small bites of pickled ginger and chili. The aroma was certainly intense, but I was immediately won over. Pungent, tangy, and packed with flavor, it was exactly the sort of thing I would happily keep reaching for.

Our translator apps, unfortunately, were not quite as cooperative when it came time to call the waitress. After several failed attempts to get our message across, the couple seated at the other table kindly offered to help. They were visiting from Europe but spoke Chinese fluently, which made our lives considerably easier. It was one of those small travel moments that reminded me how much a little kindness can change an experience.

And then came the food.

For a place we had sought out in the hope of eating something lighter, the dishes were surprisingly rich, spicy, and, yes, still rather oily. But any expectations we had about what vegetarian food could taste like were quickly forgotten.

First, there was a generous bowl of stir-fried black fungus, known in the Philippines as tenga ng daga. It is one of those ingredients I have always enjoyed, particularly when steamed or stir-fried, and this version was no exception. Its slightly chewy texture made it a satisfying dish in its own right,

especially with the restaurant’s bold seasoning.

We also ordered stir-fried cabbage tossed in a deeply savory sauce. Think of the comforting flavors of chopsuey, but stripped back to cabbage alone. It was simple in concept, yet the sauce gave it enough character to make every bite worthwhile.

Then came the vegetable-stuffed dumplings. Their filling had a surprisingly meaty quality, making them reminiscent of vegan wontons. Paired with chili oil, they were savory, satisfying, and dangerously easy to finish in one sitting.

The sweet-and-sour tofu was another pleasant surprise. At first glance, it looked like something you might order at your neighborhood Chinese restaurant, the sort of dish you would expect to contain fish or meat. Yet it was entirely tofu, with a soft interior and a beautifully crisp exterior. The sauce struck a lovely balance between sweetness and acidity, while the chili oil on the side added another layer of heat.

It was familiar, comforting, and proof that a plant-based dish need not sacrifice the flavors we already know and love.

The tofu that stole the show

Of everything we ordered, however, there was one dish Josh and I simply could not stop talking about: the deep-fried tofu.

Visually, it reminded us of lechon manok. Taste-wise? Imagine the crisp, indulgent satisfaction of crispy pata. I know that sounds like an outrageous comparison for a piece of tofu, but I promise I am not exaggerating.

The outside was beautifully crunchy, almost like biting into perfectly crisp poultry skin, while the inside retained its softer texture. What made it so fascinating was how convincingly the seasoning recreated the savory, meaty flavors we had grown accustomed to throughout our trip.

Perhaps it was the combination of spices, the frying technique, or the way the tofu absorbed all those flavors. Whatever the secret, it worked.

We were genuinely fascinated by how something so simple could taste so familiar. It was the kind of dish that makes you pause mid-bite, look at the person across the table, and ask, “Wait, how did they make this?”

We kept reaching for another piece, trying to figure out what made it so good. And even after leaving Lijiang, it was the dish I found myself craving the most.

If there was ever a reason to give vegetarian food a chance, this was it.

Throughout our meal, the restaurant also served complimentary tea, as is customary in many Chinese dining settings. It was always hot, never cold, and offered a comforting pause between bites of all that spice. A small detail, perhaps, but one that added to the feeling that we were being welcomed into someone’s home rather than simply dining at a restaurant.

A little detour worth taking

Looking back, I am glad we followed our curiosity and ventured beyond the more obvious dining spots in Lijiang. What initially seemed like an uncertain detour turned into one of the most memorable meals of our trip.

There was something particularly charming about the experience. The modest entrance, the home-like setting, the language barrier, and the unexpected kindness of strangers all came together to make the meal feel personal. It was not the sort of restaurant experience we had planned for, but perhaps that was precisely what made it special.

And as for our original mission to find something healthier? Well, we did get our vegetables. Whether we managed to escape the oil and spice altogether is another story.

I would love to share the name of this little vegetarian spot, but unfortunately, I forgot to save it. So, for now, I hope the photos will serve as your guide if you ever find yourself wandering through Lijiang’s old towns in search of something similar.

Should you come across these dishes, do yourself a favor and give them a try, especially that deep-fried tofu. It may sound unusual, but trust me when I say it deserves a place on your must-eat list.

After all, some of the best travel memories do not come from the places we meticulously plan to visit. Sometimes, they come from a tiny gate we almost mistook for someone’s front door, a meal we never expected to love, and a dish we are still thinking about long after the trip has ended.