This usually involved two or more young fellows with big wooden mallets, which I had not previously considered to be part of a candy-maker's art. But there is an art to pounding sesame insensible: The choreography that keeps the hammerers from hitting each other, the rhythmic BAM! BAM! BAM! echoing down the street, and finally the delicious sweets that emerge after the sesame paste is pounded into chewy blocks.

There are plenty of sit-down restaurants too. You'll want to stop in at least one for a bowl of yangrou paomo, the distinctive soup that sends the aroma of spicy boiled lamb drifting through the neighborhood. It's made by crumbling a flat loaf of bread into a bowl and then adding noodles, mutton and broth. I like to get it at the smallest eateries, because the cook is usually wrestling a big wok over an equally big fire right out front, instead of behind the dining-room wall.

This may be humble fare, but like at a five-star restaurant, sometimes presentation is all.

This weekend marks the start of Ramadan, when faithful Muslims abstain from food during daylight hours. That will slow down the usual hubbub of lunchtime. But you can expect the innate joy of Damaishi Jie and its adjacent alleyways to burst into life as the sun goes down - and the pious come together to break their fast.