From Roots to Fruits: Lunching at Vege Tiger, Beijing's Original Vegan Buffet

Nestled near Qianmen — a stone’s throw away from the grand monuments of Tian’anmen Square — is Vege Tiger, aka 素虎Sùhǔ. The flagship restaurant of what was once a chain of thirteen establishments, Vege Tiger HQ is home to one of Beijing’s best value buffets: 90 dishes for the incredibly low price of RMB 68!

This bountiful buffet runs twice a day; 11.30 am-2pm for lunch, and 5-8pm for dinner. Despite operating seven days a week, the options are seemingly limitless, and like two raindrops falling from separate clouds, each smorgasbord forms a different pattern.
While some of the more popular items such as “fried potatoes with green beans” appear more often than others, there is no way of knowing what will be served until you arrive.

“The first restaurant opened in 2008 and eventually we had thirteen branches, but the epidemic closed all but three of them,” says Fiore, who has been working here since the outset and is the current restaurant manager. She advises newcomers to arrive early, as like the rest of Beijing, peak-traffic hours are something to contend with.  

Between 11.15 and 11.30am, the tables slowly fill and seasoned veterans eye the staff members as they make their movements in and out of the kitchen; a group of seniors watches the clock, while one member of their party surveys the options already on display. A young man attempts to grab a plate before the appropriate time and is politely remonstrated by both staff and customers.

At 11.30am on the dot, a loudspeaker crackles, and before the first syllable is uttered, a throng of hungry people grab plates and make their way forward. No sneeze guard is installed, but everyone is reminded to wear masks. While a buffet spread is no place for portion control, it’s crucial not to overload on one item as the idea is to try as many different dishes as possible.
I use tongs to successfully procure a single slice of deep-dish pizza while opting to use a spatula to pick up some dumplings; two skewers of barbecued 面筋 miànjīn (seitan) act as a barrier between a ladle of Southeast Asian-style vegetable curry and sweet and sour imitation fish; while a scoop of spicy potatoes provides bedding for a serving of 凉皮 liángpí (cold skin noodles). It is an eclectic mixture of flavors and textures, but I am satisfied with my gathering skills. As it takes twenty minutes before the brain realizes you’re full, I wolf it down to make room for seconds.

Buddhist imagery, artwork, and edicts decorate the walls, while religious insignia can be found scattered throughout the premises. As is often the case with many vegan restaurants throughout China, the Buddhist theme is predominant, and rather than classic rock or acid jazz, the soundtrack of choice for Vege Tiger is either instrumental or divine chanting. Notes are plucked on a guzheng in a melodious fashion, and the gentle volume never rises above conversation.  

“I found my religion because of vegetarian food,” says Fiore. “I insisted on eating vegetarian food because of my faith.” However, Fiore states that while a lot of diners are Buddhist, even those who frequently visit aren’t necessarily vegan or vegetarian; instead, they are lured in by value. Not only is there a massive variety of food on offer, but you can eat as much as you’d like, provided you don’t waste anything.

As there is still room in my belly, I approach the buffet for a second time. I build a nice mound of toon fried rice and accompany it with tofu puffs that have been simmering in a spicy cauldron; they are bursting with spicy juice and stain the plate scarlet. Next, I pick up a pair of spinach-stuffed baozi, before spooning out some peanuts soaked in vinegar, and eventually snag some plant-based meatballs that have been braised with green peppers and wood ear mushrooms.

Just when I think my plate is reaching capacity, a staff member comes out of the kitchen with a serving tray balanced on her shoulder; a trio of Omnipork burgers, sliced in half with aesthetically pleasing cross-sections are placed down on the table. Who am I to refuse?

A diner at the next table makes conversation as I sit down. He has been eating at this restaurant for years, first as a student at a nearby school and now as an engineer.

“Are you a Buddhist?” asks Yifan.

“No, I’m vegan,” I reply.

This answer satisfies his curiosity and he returns to his own plate of food. The toon fried rice is outstanding and while the burger is a beautiful sight to behold, the allotment of vegan mayonnaise is too liberal for my liking and I need to remove some with a napkin. My pace of eating slows down and I find that I can no longer shovel down spoonfuls at rapid-fire speed. I feel content and satiated—stuffed even—but as my grandmother (and perhaps everyone else’s) used to say: there’s always room for dessert.

Layered cakes, durian darts, chocolate brownies, moon cakes, gelato, and pumpkin fritters abound, but I have my sights set on a different target. The crème stuffed mochi at Vege Tiger is revered and deservedly so. If it wasn’t for the multitude of signs specifically stating “no meat” and “no dairy” that are dispersed throughout the store, you would be forgiven for thinking it was made from cow’s milk. They come in a variety of fruit flavors, but mango reigns supreme.  

Whether you follow a plant-based diet or not, Vege Tiger’s buffet is exceptional value for money and the variety of dishes is ostensibly infinite. While the menu itself is consistently changing, the restaurant itself provides a welcome respite from the frantic flurry and the nonstop commotion of the city.

Vege Tiger 素虎素食
1-3, 1/F, Bldg 3, Zhengyang Market, Qianmen West Street
西城区前门西大街正阳市场3号楼一层1-3号
Hours: Daily, 11.30-2pm; 5.30-8pm
Phone: 010 6301 0212
 

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Images: RJ Fry