大庭牛肉麵

The two broths each have their partisans. The braised one is gentle, its soy flavour turning sweet on the finish rather than hitting hard up front; the clear-stewed is the one worth the trip, so clear you can see the bottom of the bowl and still carrying a faint note of angelica root, complete with nothing more than scallion and greens. The tendon is stewed until a spoon goes through it, the collagen clinging to your lips — order half tendon, half beef and you get both textures at once. The cold-dish case holds braised eggs, honeycomb tripe, kelp and pressed tofu, sliced and plated, and a dish of smashed cucumber alongside is the combination the regulars have settled on.

It has been open since 1979, on Guoguang Road, its yellow-and-black light box especially visible after dark. The door opens at five in the afternoon and stays open until midnight, filling in turns with people finishing late shifts, leaving events, coming off duty — most tables holding one bowl of noodles and two small dishes. Come just after opening if you want it quiet; the later it gets, the busier it is.