Editor's Note: On a recent trip to Chengdu, I wanted to eat somewhere "nice." Datenbank, a Michelin-listed place, was closed, but a chance comment by a contact there, led me to that they had transplanted to Shanghai not long ago. Intrigued, I asked Greg to check it out, without any whiffs if it was good or not. I won't spoil it, but CUN joins a growing listing of modern Chinese-fusion ventures that are creating an entirely new genre. This place is an example of a Michelin-worthy vanguard of "China's next generation of bold chefs" as Greg puts it. Enjoy.

The Place:

Creative Sichuan-Spanish-Latin American crossover cuisine from Li Tianyi. Li is a Chongqing native who learned to cook at Le Cordon Bleu. After graduating, he cut his teeth in Michelin-starred kitchens around Madrid, like Santceloni and Martin Beratasgui as well as the eclectic Mexican eatery Cantina Roo. Then, he brought all those hard-earned cooking chops back to China with him and opened Datenbank, which boasts a mention (not yet a star) in the Chengdu Michelin Guide. Late last year, he planted his flag in Shanghai with CUN. That name might bear some explanation. CUN, or 皴, is a painting technique. It's what gives a sense of dimension and texture to all those otherworldly rock features and mountains you see in traditional Chinese landscape art. For Li, 皴 is an extended metaphor for what he's doing in the kitchen. He sees his food as another way of accentuating the dimension and texture of a place.

The Space:

INS, that new nightclub compound in Fuxing Park is probably the last place you'd look for a restaurant like this. And if you ventured up the escalator to the second floor, you might walk right by it. There are no windows, just a dark door with a lone Chinese character. It opens to a small, dimly lit dining room. Beyond that is another door behind which a few seats sidle up to an open kitchen. This is where you want to sit. Watching Li and his kitchen crew work is a big part of the experience.

The Mood:

Widen the focus, and the place feels simultaneously rustic and urbane. The kitchen, with cured fish and other assorted foodstuffs hanging overhead, looks like it should be outdoors. Food is served in rough-hewn, but beautifully hand-crafted earthenware plates and bowls. Wine, by contrast, is poured into lithe crystal stemware that might shatter if you look at it the wrong way.

The Food:

Often, when you mix too many colors of paint on a palette, you get mud. Li, however, balances the elements masterfully. Every item on the menu is described with just a few characters. Each one shines through on the plate. An amuse bouche titled "鱼子酱｜花椒 ｜开心果", for instance, gives you just that: caviar and pistachio cream sandwiched between two wafer-thin crostini suffused with the numbing flavor of Sichuan peppercorn. It sounds strange, but it works.

He follows it up with something equally intriguing, a shrimp carpaccio supercharged with a few drops of shrimp oil. Air-dried tomato ups the umami, while koji adds funky fermented notes redolent of sake. For something more subtle, he gently cooks an oyster sous vide and tops it with an emulsion of oyster liquor and almonds. It's delicate, fresh – like sweet cream kissed with sea spray.

A course of pine-smoked threadfin fish adds a bit of theatrics to the experience. Your host sets fire to a chip of pinewood in a bowl. Out comes another bowl with a mound of fresh pine branches. On top sits a fillet fresh out of the Josper oven. Its brittle crispy skin snaps apart, giving way to sweet, smoky flesh. Alongside it is a helping of salsa macha, a Mexican condiment made from dried chilies, garlic and oil.

In other dishes, like his red shrimp taco, Li's Mexican influences take center stage. A single succulent crustacean is laid across a tortilla with sage and molé. The head is served on the side. Your host adds a few drops of Highland Park single malt Scotch to it. You squeeze it on your taco as if it were a fresh lime wedge. Why does this work so well? More importantly, how much Scotch did Li drink before he settled in Highland Park?

Then it's off to Spain with a paella. He cooks it long enough that crispy bits form along the edges – a nod to Cantonese claypot rice perhaps? Octopus and pig ears add layers of texture – pleasantly rubbery with the occasional cartilaginous crunch. The course creates a communal experience too. It's prepared in a big batch and spooned out to everybody in the restaurant.

Finally, desserts. They run a wide gamut. A light and fresh tomato leaf poundcake with a berry compote and chamomile ice cream pops on the plate with contrasting colors. Then he follows it up with a classic Sichuan grass jelly with shaved ice and brown sugar. Served alongside it is a spoonful of Tokaji, a sweet late-harvest wine from Hungary.

The Damage:

CUN only serves a prix fixe tasting menu. This will run you 820 yuan (US$116.26). If you prefer a bit of adult refreshment with your dinner, they offer wine or whiskey pairings too. Those are 420 yuan and 520 yuan, respectively.

Good For:

Getting a taste of what China's next generation of bold, creative chefs can do.