Lion's Head Meatball: It looks almost demure in its lack of seasoning, but the first juicy mouthful would change your mind. This is a must-order. [Photo provided to China Daily]

Another specialty is the giant meatball.

There are meatballs, and there are meatballs. When Spring Festival comes around every year, my mother-in-law must have her Beijing sixi wanzi, Four Happiness Meatballs, that are quarter-pound whoppers that must be fried first, then slowly braised.

This is the northern cousin of the Lion's Head Meatball, Nanjing's culinary name card.

This is a meatball of right royal pedigree, a mound of meat that is surprisingly light in the mouth. A good lion's head should dissolve in the mouth without needing any pressure from tooth or tongue.

It's all in the knife work, the pride and professional signature of a Nanjing chef.

Of course, a good pork belly cut is essential. It must have tender skin, that layer of collagen that adds the essential bond for the meatball. Then, it must have well-distributed fat and lean layers.

A chef once whispered the secret to the cutting in my ear.

First, the meat is blanched, just enough to firm it up properly and just enough for the chef to check that no stray gristle or bristle remain.

Then the belly is shaved into paper-thin slices, which are cut into slivers, then minutely diced.

All the while, the chef must gauge the quality of meat so he knows exactly how thinly to cut. Too fine, and it all turns to mush.

After that, the meat is seasoned and beaten, by hand. Always by hand.

It is then tenderly formed into a ball and carefully pressed. Too firm, the meatball will cook hard; too lightly, and it falls apart.

After being tenderly poached in light stock, it is finally served, garnished with nothing but a few tender shoots of cabbage greens.

It is dishes like these and the stories behind them that help Nanjing Impressions impress diners abroad. And if this is Chinese street food, then the world is in for a treat.