全香豆花

The tofu pudding is made in-house — one spoonful and the whole sheet slides apart. The soy flavour is deep and the texture fine enough to approach steamed egg, while the syrup is simmered from brown sugar, sweet but never cloying. The toppings run the length of the counter for you to pick from: job's tears, split mung beans, peanuts, white fungus, candied winter melon, small glutinous rice balls, taro balls. The peanuts are cooked down to a soft cream and the candied winter melon is an old-fashioned touch you rarely see now. The house aiyu — salty, sour and sweet at once — is dressed with cranberry, salted osmanthus and brown sugar, a trace of salt running between the sweet and the sour, which the owner laughingly calls the taste of love. For a change, order the unsweetened almond-tea tofu pudding, or ask whether the black sesame tofu with almond milk is on — it isn't there every day.

The shop is on Gongkou Street, its front recently redone: white walls, a wooden counter, a few paintings hung up, long bench seating down both sides and the air conditioning turned up, comfortable enough to eat alone. Dine in and refills of ice and syrup are free, which is what the locals like most. Open from before noon until nine at night, an easy stop after a walk through Huangshi Market or a round of the nearby street food.