The Chinese Challenge: How to Duck and Other Stories Part 1 of 2

We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the Forbidden City so we had really worked up an appetite by dinner time. Now it was time for an age-old tradition. Quanjude (or /chang•ju•duh/ as I heard it spoken) is one of the oldest Peking Duck restaurants in China, having been established in 1864. It serves everything from gizzards, livers, duck web, heart — and of course, the famous Peking Duck.

Because Quanjude has a lot of branches all over Beijing, we decided to head to the nearest one: Tiananmen Square. They had a lot of diners that evening and we were told to wait inside a small room that I assumed led to their delivery bay/storage. I felt as if we had entered some kind of dimly-lit seedy diner, even if the place was perfectly clean. Guess I watched too many Triad movies when I was younger. We didn’t have to wait long, however, and we were ushered into the main hall, lit and decorated in grand Chinese style. We passed by the kitchen, separated from it by a huge glass window so we could see how the ducks were being prepared. Later, I saw that the duck, which cost about 198 RMB, is sliced into thin pieces right in front of you, and you can really be mesmerized by the quick movements of the staff’s knives.

I desperately wanted to try the roast duck (who wouldn’t?) but my friend insisted that we wouldn’t be able to finish it all. And because I had my way during lunch earlier, I found myself conceding this time. I knew I’d find a way to have Peking duck later.

Instead we ordered a variety of small dishes that gave us a range of flavors. We started with an appetizer: Duck in Creamy Mushroom Soup. It tasted like Knorr Chinese Soup of old, a little too watered-down for my tastes.

We also had some Duck Dimsum, a deconstructed meal that reminded me of tinola (in a good way). The dimsum wrapper was used to compartmentalize the different ingredients, and the flavors came together in your mouth with every bite.

For our veggies, Oz and I ordered a dish with corn, carrots, and tofu mixed in a sweet sauce. I liked the sweetness, but Oz didn’t. I could understand why some people would think it was sickeningly sweet, but because the corn had a particularly neutral taste, I thought they went well together.

But the winner of the evening was our Deep Fried Roast Duck. The waitress warned us that it would take longer than our other dishes, but we were willing to wait. And it was really worth it. We had could really taste the fat-loaded goodness of the duck in each crispy slice. Very sinful, very glorious.

I paired everything with two cans of almond juice, something I don’t normally encounter in Manila. I guess that pretty much summarized my whole take on eating during those four days: find staple flavors to anchor my tastes on, but always, always try something new. I couldn’t wait for the next day.

To be continued…