PEKING DUCK

A young chef in a white toque parks a trolley by the side of the table. On it is a duck; plump and glossy, its skin is an enticing caramel and entirely smooth. With a long knife, the chef shears off slices of lacquered skin and then succulent meat, laying them neatly on a serving platter. Pancakes are taken from a stack in a bamboo steamer, anointed with dark tianmian sauce, laid with slices of duck and shards of leek and cucumber and rolled up, ready to be eaten. The crisp skin, dipped in white sugar, melts instantly in the mouth. The combination is irresistible: the fragrance of the meat and skin, the savoury hit of the sauce, the refreshing contrast of the vegetables.

Peking duck is one of the world’s great dishes and as much an emblem of Beijing as the Forbidden City or the old hutong lanes. Surprisingly, though, it’s a gastronomic anomaly in this arid, northern city. Most of China’s classic duck dishes hail from the watery Jiangnan region around Shanghai, where ducks swim in paddy