The Duck

Didn't have the energy last night to relate the duck dinner experience. Our first meal in Beijing was in the hotel at a branch of the Quanjude restaurant chain, famous here for its Peking duck. The ROS group sat at large tables and ate "family style"--that is, with multiple dishes of vegetables, fish, rice, soup, chicken set on a large glass lazy susan. The first rule of thumb for serving yourself from a lazy susan is: take a quick glance around the table to see who else is helping themselves to a dish before you spin the device to bring over the delicacy you want.

We were welcomed by a representative of the agency that's responsible for the Chorus Festival, who presented the ROS conductor, Eric Townell, with a mammoth bouquet of flowers. Then the duck was presented, and two chefs in tall white hats and face masks got to work carving up the birds. I've read that it's the crispy skin that is the most prized part of the duck, and care is taken to ensure that every sliver of meat is dressed with a least of smidgen of skin. Plates of the meat, steamers of thin pancakes, and small bowls of plum sauce and sliced scallions were brought to our tables. One of our waitresses asked if we'd like a demonstration of the proper technique, and as we were all making a mess of it up until then we almost shouted "Please!"

So she deftly took a pancake off the stack with her chopsticks, dipped four pieces of duck in the sauce and placed them on the pancake, took a few scallions, dipped and placed those as well, and using only chopsticks and a spoon, folded the pancake around its contents into a fluted shape, and with a flourish, dropped in on someone's plate. We cheered.

While not as agile with our chopsticks as our waitress, we at least now had a clue. The wrapped concoction is as delicious as advertised. And I didn't notice a "lasting aftertaste" at all.