Beijingers' everyday meals: From morning soy milk to late-night grilled meat.

Morning: Fermented mung bean juice with fried dough rings

At 5:30 in the morning, steam rises from the breakfast stalls at the entrance of the alley. For many old Beijingers, their first meal often begins with a bowl of grayish-green douzhi (fermented mung bean juice). Made from mung beans, douzhi undergoes fermentation, filtering, and boiling. It has a slightly sour smell, but a mellow, sweet and sour taste. It's served with a dish of finely shredded spicy pickled vegetables and two jiaoquan (fried dough rings). The jiaoquan, made from semi-fermented dough and deep-fried, are shaped like bracelets and are crispy but not greasy. The older generation breaks the jiaoquan into pieces, dips them in the douzhi, and slurps them down with the pickled vegetables. The sour, salty, crispy, and fragrant flavors are all perfectly balanced, both refreshing and dispelling the morning chill. Douzhi holds a special place in Beijing cuisine; it doesn't appeal to tourists, but it's the litmus test for locals to judge whether a breakfast stall is "authentic."

Morning snack: Fried liver with pork and scallion buns

If douzhi (fermented mung bean juice) is considered old-fashioned, chaogan (stir-fried liver) is a more common breakfast option. Beijing chaogan, despite its name, is actually boiled: pork intestines are cut into sections, pork liver is sliced, and then mixed with minced garlic, yellow soybean paste, mushroom broth, and cornstarch to create a thick, amber-colored sauce. Before serving, a generous amount of raw minced garlic is sprinkled on top. A proper bowl of chaogan should have "garlic without visible garlic," with tender intestines and liver, and a thick, not watery, sauce. It's served with two-ounce pork and scallion buns, thin-skinned and generously filled, the filling glistening with oil. Locals don't eat it with a spoon, but rather hold the bowl by the rim and slurp it in circles, alternating the sauce and bun in their mouths, experiencing layers of garlic, soy sauce, and wheat aromas. This meal is rich in fat and carbohydrates, satisfying and exuding the rustic charm unique to street-side breakfast stalls.

Lunch: A small bowl of deep-fried noodles with soybean paste

During lunchtime, you can often hear the words "small bowl of dry-fried noodles" in noodle shops in the old city. The essence of Beijing-style fried sauce noodles lies in the sauce, not the noodles. Dry yellow soybean paste is diluted with water and slowly fried with diced pork belly over low heat until the sauce darkens, the oil is rendered, and the aroma is rich. The noodles must be either stretched or cut noodles, cooked until slightly firm, and then rinsed with warm water. The toppings change seasonally, emphasizing "seven dishes and eight bowls": cucumber shreds, radish shreds, bean sprouts, chopped celery, chopped green garlic, and chopped toon leaves arranged in a circle. When mixing the noodles, add the sauce first, then the toppings, ensuring each noodle is coated. The flavor is savory, fragrant, and slightly sweet, the diced pork is chewy, and the toppings are crisp and refreshing. For Beijing families, fried sauce noodles are the foundation of everyday life, each family having its own unique flavor, but eating them in a noodle shop is about the leisurely way they elevate the everyday to a refined level.

Lunch upgrade: Braised pork offal with baked wheat cake

At the same time, another, more substantial option is braised pork offal with baked buns. Baked buns, pork intestines, pork lungs, and fried tofu are all cooked together in a rich broth seasoned with star anise, cinnamon, Sichuan peppercorns, fermented bean curd, and other spices, and the broth is kept unchanged for a long time. The baked buns are semi-leavened, firm on the outside and soft on the inside, retaining a chewy texture even after absorbing the broth; the pork intestines are thoroughly cleaned, retaining a small amount of fat, making them rich and flavorful; the fried tofu has many pores, bursting with juice when bitten. When done, they are scooped out, cut into pieces, drizzled with hot broth, and sprinkled with cilantro, minced garlic, and chili oil. A bowl of this braised pork offal is savory, rich, and layered, often called "the poor man's bird's nest," but nowadays it's no longer a compromise, but a local's occasional craving, a taste of the lively and comforting atmosphere of a large pot boiling over.

Afternoon tea: Donkey roll and pea flour cake

At three in the afternoon, the sweet flavors of traditional Beijing pastries make their appearance. Donkey Roll (驴打滚) is made by steaming and flattening millet or glutinous rice flour, spreading red bean paste on it, rolling it up, and then rolling it in roasted soybean flour. It gets its name from its resemblance to a donkey rolling in the dust. The texture is soft, smooth, and delicate, with the aroma of soybeans, rice, and the subtle sweetness of the red bean paste blended together perfectly—neither too cloying nor too sweet. Pea Flour Cake (豌豆黄) is made by peeling, steaming, sifting, and stir-frying white peas with sugar until they solidify. After cooling, it is cut into small diamond-shaped pieces. A good pea flour cake has a delicate texture, melts in your mouth, and carries a subtle bean aroma and a refreshing coolness. Neither of these pastries relies on cream or additives, and their sweetness is restrained. They are the most common pairing for Beijingers in the afternoon with a pot of jasmine tea. Their presence adds a touch of elegance and tranquility to the city's culinary landscape, beyond the usual savory and heavy flavors.

Late-night snack: tripe and grilled meat

As night falls, the tripe shops and grilled meat stalls in the southern part of the city begin to fill up. Tripe is made by slicing fresh beef or lamb tripe into different parts—the inner lining, the outer lining, the inner lining, and the inner tip—and quickly blanching it in boiling water for a few seconds to a dozen seconds. It's then eaten with a dipping sauce made of sesame paste, fermented bean curd, chive blossoms, and minced garlic. Perfectly cooked tripe is crisp and tender, making a satisfying "crunch" when chewed, and the dipping sauce is savory and slightly sour. Accompanying this is grilled meat: an iron grill is placed over charcoal, and marinated lamb or beef slices are poured onto it along with scallions and cilantro. They are quickly tossed with long chopsticks, the oil dripping onto the charcoal and releasing a smoky aroma. The meat slices shrink rapidly under the high temperature, the edges slightly charred, the inside juicy, the aroma of scallions and meat mingling. Eating these two dishes late at night is about the simple pleasures of Beijing—not about pomp and circumstance, but about perfect cooking, freshness, and the warmth of the people around you.

From a bowl of douzhi (fermented mung bean juice) in the morning, to zhajiangmian (noodles with soybean paste) and luzhu huoshao (braised pork offal soup) at noon, to the soft donkey rolls in the afternoon and the crunchy tripe late at night, Beijingers' daily food is hidden in the hutong breakfast stalls, street restaurants, and charcoal grills. Most of these don't rely on elaborate plating to win over customers, but rather on high-quality ingredients, precise cooking times, and time-honored cooking methods to weave a clear culinary thread through the day. From the main streets to the back alleys, understand this city through its food in a single day.