Dinner at Dadong (大董烤鸭) | Beijing

At dinner with one of China's top food critics at his favorite restaurant in the whole country: Dadong Roast Duck (大董烤鸭) in Beijing. Although one duck there costs a hefty ~200 RMB, it's well worth the experience. 

Dadong truly embodies the concepts of fine dining, luxury, and imagination down to every last detail. You can see this just through their room decor, in the projected poem and images on the walls of our private suite. 

Sitting at the table, I was amazed by the picturesque view from every angle. 

Below, a waitress recited an ancient Chinese poem about snow falling to the ground and covering the forest, while sprinkling white flour onto a slab of rock with braised ribs. 

Then came the appetizers on pristine thrones of ice, chilled to perfection. 

The sea cucumber at Dadong is, surprisingly, almost as famous as its Peking roast duck. For this, the head chef came out to personally craft one for each of us.

For a dark, glistening blob, the sea cucumber turned out to be surprisingly tasty. It soaked up the rich flavor of the green onion sauce and caramelized beautifully.

Afterwards, I experienced the most tender beef I'd ever had, flash-cooked right before our eyes with a burst of fire. 

Next was a rich and creamy fish soup with corn. It came in a bag, on a hot bed of pebbles, on a huge (real) leaf...leaving plenty of room for imagination. 

We were then served clay pot rice topped with juicy abalones, with a poem on the side. 

Then came the star of the show - the duck. To prove just how unbelievably crisp the skin was, the chef did a demonstration where he threw a piece down onto a glass surface. It immediately shattered into a million tiny pieces. 

Traditionally, Peking duck is eaten by stuffing a few slices of meat into a thin crepe (or toasted bun) with sweet bean sauce, scallions, and cucumber. If the ratio is right, the flavors should balance and intensify with each bite. 

Dessert was next - liquid nitrogen chocolate ice cream. I didn't know this, but you're supposed to place the ice cream on your tongue and then let it sit for a while, to prevent your tongue from sticking to it (ouch). While waiting for it to dissolve, you can also entertain yourself by spewing out mist.

Finally, we had a light persimmon puree and fresh lychees to round off an otherwise rich meal. A perfect end to an amazing dinner...which the food critic viewed as entirely normal and unsurprising. 

I now firmly believe that it's better to eat with food critics than to actually become one.