Finding a menu with Soul in OCT-LOFT

There’s a certain magic in the OCT-LOFT area of Nanshan District. What was once a sprawling complex of uniform factory buildings has been reborn — not through demolition, but through art. The industrial skeletons remain, now draped in vibrant murals, tangled in ivy, and pulsating with the energy of design studios, quirky cafes, and independent galleries. It’s a place where you go to wander without a destination and get lost in a labyrinth of creativity. And, as I recently discovered, it’s a place where you can find a meal that’s as bold and unconventional as its surroundings.

Stumbling upon a restaurant called Magpie, I was prepared for the usual OCT experience: cool aesthetics and a decent menu. What I was not prepared for was a menu that read like a conversation with a witty, slightly unhinged, and brutally honest chef. This wasn't your standard, sterile list of dishes. This was a mission statement.

The menu was a masterpiece of personality, written primarily in a confident, colloquial English that was a joy to read. Dish names ranged from the straightforwardly hilarious, like “PISSED OFF OCTOPUS SKEWERS,” to the mysteriously intriguing “DUCK WE LEFT IN THE FRIDGE.” Even the sides had attitude, with the menu offering “MASHED POTATOES (BECAUSE WHAT ELSE).”

This wasn’t just a gimmick — it was a character study. A section came with a full-blown, hilarious manifesto challenging diners to “embrace the glory of animal protein consumption” and “celebrate your dominance over an entire species.” It was audacious, funny, and utterly disarming. Flipping through the pages, I found a heartfelt foreword from the chef, Cadence Gao, speaking of challenging years and the simple joy of sharing a meal with friends. This blend of punk-rock bravado and genuine warmth was intoxicating. It was clear that the food here wouldn't be an afterthought.

First to arrive was the Magpie Full Breakfast. The menu cheekily describes its components as “TWO EGGS, THREE SAUSAGES, ALL THE OTHER STUFF.” That “other stuff” turned out to be a glorious, heaping portion of wild mushrooms, sautéed into earthy, umami-rich submission. Alongside three perfectly cooked sausages and two crispy-edged fried eggs, it was a formidable plate of food. This was a breakfast that didn’t mess around. It was fuel for a day of exploring the surrounding art district — a hearty, honest-to-goodness feast that lived up to its no-nonsense billing.

The official breakfast of champions, artists, and people who are really, really hungry.

Next came a dish with a confidently titled “BETTER THAN CHICKEN BREASTS.” It was a magnificent duck confit. The menu promised “CONFIT DUCK, BLACK POTATOES, SALSA VERDE,” and it delivered perfection. The duck leg was a study in contrasts — the skin shatteringly crisp but the meat beneath so tender it practically melted off the bone. It was served with a fresh, zesty salsa verde that cut through the richness of the duck beautifully. It was a classic dish, executed with precision and flair.