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"DEATH BY duck," they used to call it.
Twenty years ago, when China's capital was first opening to the West, hapless tour groups would get their first taste of Peking duck at multistory, government-run restaurants with unfortunate names like Sick Duck or Wall St. Duck. The service was listless. The tablecloths were stained. The duck itself, while sliced with great pomp, was soggy, and the sides were made with stale produce and way too much oil. The duck was traditionally followed by "duck soup," a broth made from the bird carcass that was a thin Marxist gruel dotted with grease.
But Beijing has turned from grim, socialist-style encampment into a razzle-dazzle showcase of new-money glamour. In a city where communism's grip has loosened, private enterprise, competition and the dedication of a new generation of roasters have restored its namesake dish (Beijing used to be called Peking) fit for emperors to its former glory. Now, even outlets at Beijing's Capital International Airport create versions of the delicacy worth a 14-hour flight: stacks of steamed, perfectly translucent wheat rounds ready to encase slices of caramelized duck skin, accompanied by leeks, slathers of sweet sauce and copious side dishes.
Despite what its name would suggest, Peking duck—"Beijing kaoya," in Mandarin—is widely thought to have been created in neighboring Shandong province many centuries ago. "While records show the dish was brought to the Imperial Court by the 14th century, it was only in the mid-1600s that the first restaurants specializing in roast duck were established," said Eileen Wen Mooney, author of "Beijing Eats: A Food-Lover's Companion to China's Culinary Capital."
As the city and nation hurtle forward, the role of a duck roaster, in terms of the hung ducks coming out of the oven and the wheat pancakes waiting in baskets, remains unchanged. Traditionally it is the duck skin only, carved on tableside carts from whole, beautifully browned birds, that forms the centerpiece of this sweet masterpiece. (The meat comes in neatly arranged slices on separate plates for those who insist on it, or it's used in accompanying stir-fries.)
Of course, sublime duck is not necessarily what is foisted on diners at most Chinese restaurants around the world. "Peking duck put out in places other than Beijing are totally different," said Dong Zhenxiang, or "Da Dong," as this longtime duck master of Da Dong Roast Duck is called. For one thing, Mr. Dong said, the ducks should be roasted in brick ovens fired by the wood of local fruit trees, which helps impart a unique mix of sweetness and smokiness. In many parts of the world, including Hong Kong, such ovens are banned for safety reasons, and the ducks come out of metal tanks. Instead of thin pancakes, doughy buns are often served; the traditional sweet tian mian jiang dipping sauce, made from fermented beans, is nearly always replaced by a too-sweet hoisin plum sauce that drowns the subtlety of the bird's caramelized coating. And, partly to suit foreign sensibilities, more and more duck meat is left attached to the skin.
The son of a chef himself, Mr. Dong vowed from an early age to improve standards of raising and cooking China's favorite bird. Beginning with his first privately owned restaurant in the mid-1990s, Mr. Dong gave diplomats and Japanese tourists a surprising version of the dish, reviving pre-communist methods that he had to research. Today, Mr. Dong's diners start by dipping the first morsel of skin in sugar—to contrast with and highlight its complex smokiness. Next, patrons are urged to try the duck with a progression of condiments added to the pancake: raw garlic, radish and julienned cucumbers, before the stronger blast of customary green onion stalks. Side dishes made of the duck meat, as well as accompanying platters of duck tongues and livers, have returned to their rightful place as a significant part of the ritual. Mr. Dong sometimes offers the duck brain—either still attached to the split head or scooped out and served on a plate wreathed with breast slices.
The chef's claim to fame is his development of a "super lean" Peking duck, in response to growing health concerns among foreign and local adherents. Thanks to a slower, more gradual roasting process, the chunks of white fat under the skin seem to have melted away—without sacrificing the smoky succulence.
Now given its proper due, true renditions of Peking duck abound in its host city. Any poultry-based tour of Beijing would be a great way to witness the growing sophistication and design savvy of restaurateurs in a land where eating has always been the prime obsession and status symbol. It's also delicious.
Da Dong Roast Duck
Having expanded from his original laboratory, Da Dong's vast, modern and brightly lit headquarters near Chaoyang District's "Restaurant Row" features refrigerated pantries and a panoply of private rooms. The duck here remains the city's standard-bearer, even though some diners feel the leanness makes it almost "duck lite." The main draw is now somewhat supplemented by luxury items like sea cucumber and a 200-plus-page menu of specialties inspired by lines of classical Chinese poetry. 22 Dongsishitiao, Dongcheng, 86-10-5169-0328
Duck de Chine
The headline restaurant of the "Hidden City"—a shopping complex housed in older warehouses set on the edge of the fashionable neighborhood Sanlitun—this is a spot for savoring the bird in an appealing atmosphere with brick walls and low lighting. A questionable innovation (to some) is the addition of sesame paste, peanut and other variants to the dipping sauce, upon request. Some of the luxury touches are daring, like tofu in the duck soup, but others are over the top—like the ringing of a gong for each bird's arrival. 1949 The Hidden City Courtyard 4, Gongti Bei Lu, Chaoyang, 86-10- 6501-888
Quanjude (全聚德)
The oldest and most famous of Peking duck purveyors, Quanjude aggressively expanded into a chain, with numerous outlets around China and in Hong Kong. Beijing's original Qianmen branch contains ancient walls and many historic artifacts. Décor is dowdy, service a bit rough and there's a fair bit of oil to be found in the countless supplemental dishes on offer. Still, some aficionados swear by the original flavor of their birds. Original branch: 32 Qianmen Dajie, Qianmen, 86-10-6511-2418
Li Qun Roast Duck (利群烤鴨店)
Foreigners have long been drawn here by the experience of wolfing down duck in the tiny rooms within a traditional hutong alley, near the famed Qianmen nightlife area. The drawbacks are a long wait for reservations and surroundings that offer little more than authentic grottiness. Follow hand-painted ducks on alley walls to find your meal. A great Beijing experience, with an average Peking duck supplemented by plates of peppers and gamey gizzards. 11 Beixiangfeng, Zhengyi Lu, Dongcheng, 86-10-6705-5578
Made in China
Peking duck has always been a favored dish of the elite, but it's still hard to admit that the dish's long history should come to full fruition in a Grand Hyatt hotel. This space is done up as a slicker hotel coffee shop, with glassed-in duck areas, and the birds are equal to any in town, especially sweet and carved at the table. With a service charge added and skimpier side dishes, this is the place to have Peking duck on a corporate expense account. Grand Hyatt Hotel, 1 East Chang An Avenue, Dongcheng, 86-10-8518-1234
(인용: WSJ)