The best quacker in Beijing? Peking duck at Siji Minfu (四季民福烤鸭店)

Jan 18

Preparing Peking duck is quite a labour-intensive endeavour that involves several steps in order to achieve a magical combination of thin, crispy skin and succulent flesh.

Want to make it yourself? Be prepared to embark on a journey. I myself chose to pop into a restaurant to have a taste of Beijing’s signature dish.

Have a bike pump lying around?

Why would you not? That’s how most recipes start.

It’s all fun and games until you just need to pluck the duck and wash it thoroughly.

Now, grab the pump and insert the nozzle between the skin and the flesh to blow it up and separate the two layers, then give the bird a shower, ladling boiling water over it to tighten the skin.

Once spa time is over, rub the cavity with five-spice powder and brush the skin all over with maltose syrup to crisp it up and lay the foundations of the signature lacquered finish the dish is known for.

Hanging birds and fans.

Do you have a hook in your kitchen on top of that bike pump? Good, that’ll be used to hang the duck, in front of a fan you’ll have dragged into the room, air-drying it for one or two days, making sure the skin gets thin as paper and ready to crisp up in the oven. And now we wait.

After 2 days, we’re now ready to roast.

But your oven is most likely not big enough to have a whole duck hanging from a hook for a good hour at low temperature and another short while with the oven blazing hot to crisp up the skin. All of this with the door ajar to avoid moisture build-up.

If you’re blessed with the oven of my dreams, by all means, do that, but don’t forget you’ll have to rush to remove the skin as soon as the duck’s cooked so the steaming flesh doesn’t make it soggy.

Carve, shred, roll, give up.

We’re almost done now, just a matter of expertly carving the duck without destroying it.

Ah, and then roll it into wheat flour pancakes you’ll have made while waiting, together with shredded green onions and cucumber, plus a dollop of a soybean paste made with tian mian sauce or store-bought hoisin if you’re lazy.

Given the process and equipment required to make Peking duck at home, it’s one of the very few recipes I’ll probably never try making myself. But I do love it, and I’ll always be drawn to a roast duck restaurant and the appeal of having it ready and sliced on my plate within minutes.

When in the Chinese capital, you’ll be faced with a dazzling amount of options when it comes to roast duck stalls and restaurants, all claiming to serve up the best roast duck in Beijing. You’ll find signs advertising Beijing Kao Ya (北京烤鸭), literally Peking roast duck, everywhere: from stalls lining markets to Michelin-starred restaurants like Da Dong (北京大董烤鸭) and chains like Quanjude (全聚德), the choices are endless.

I’d tried Quanjude years ago, so this time I figured I’d go for something less ubiquitous. While wandering back from an aimless walk around town I went down Dengshikou Avenue and stumbled upon Siji Minfu, described as the most reasonably-priced staple for roast duck in several local reviews and by locals I met there while waiting for a table.

Not too far from the Forbidden City, east of the moat, I wouldn’t squeeze the restaurant in after a visit to the Palace Museum, but I’d suggest keeping it for a leisurely day. Take your time to walk along the tree-lined boulevards, peeking into the hutongs, and factor in some waiting time before you get a table.

A number, a pen and a stool.

You’ll notice the stools taking up the sidewalk from a distance, the blueprint of a busy restaurant, and soon enough you’ll be handed a number and a leaflet with the menu - with English translation provided.

You’ll have to wait for a good while to get a table, even off-peak. Some people online mentioned waiting up to 3 hours, but networking took me far when I was there.

I was quickly approached by a woman asking me if I wanted to join forces with her and her mother so we wouldn’t have to wait for lone diners to be done and could snatch a larger table. Strength in numbers, a table for 3 was clearly easier to find than single ones, and in less than half an hour we were seated, with a little platter of chilled red grapes welcoming us to our table.

On top of a skip-the-line ticket, this creative approach to queuing provided me with one of the loveliest chats I’ve had in Beijing. My broken Mandarin vs. a mother’s broken English, with the daughter jumping in and moderating a ping pong match of struggling language learners. Back from the US for the summer to visit her mother, the restaurant had been her go-to for roast duck before she moved abroad and it now serves as their throwback spot every time she’s in town.

The menu is larger than your average roast duck parlour in Beijing, with options from all over China but mostly focusing on bites from Beijing’s culinary tradition.

Siji Minfu Beijing Menu Front page (Copy)

Siji Minfu Beijing Menu Roast duck page (Copy)

Siji Minfu Beijing Menu Back page (Copy)

So much duck, so little time.

Beijing appetisers platter at Siji Minfu. Seaweed, cucumber salad, fish in soybean sauce, pickld cabbage in mustard sauce and cubes of jellied pork

Unsurprisingly, I went overboard and ordered more than I needed, starting off with a selection of cold Beijing appetisers that included a little seaweed nest and a cucumber salad, as well as chunks of fish in a fermented soybean paste, pickled cabbage with soybean sauce and pleasantly snappy cubes of jellied pork.

The cold vegetables are pretty standard, while the fish, cabbage and jellied pork were great as a taste of traditional Beijing small eats.

But we’re all here for the duck, which can be ordered whole or halved.

I got half, but if you go for the whole duck, the bird will get carved tableside. Even if you go for a half bird, though, you’ll be sure to see plenty of birds rolling around the room, carted and carved, catching a peak of the sharp-knifed performance from tables all around you.

The duck was everything I expected it to be. Clearly defined layers of tender meat that melts in your mouth, the skin light and crispy, glossy and not oily in the slightest.

Make sure you get the pancakes and condiments platter to go with your duck. Duck is rarely eaten on its own, and you’d end up with a very meat-heavy meal. Pancakes will come warm in a steamer basket, while the platter comes with leeks, cucumbers, crushed garlic and pickled radish and greens for a fresh bite, some hoisin sauce to balance it all and, to my surprise, granulated sugar to dip the skin in, adding an extra layer of crunch that you rarely come across outside of China.

The waiters do a great job at guiding you through the steps to get to the perfect roast duck parcel. From how to fold them to how to press down with chopsticks so they don’t unravel, they’ll tell you how it is supposed to look like, sharing their preferred ratio of duck slivers to sauce and vegetables per pancake.

As a tiny end-of-meal treat, the two little strips of tangy hawthorn jelly (山楂糕) that came with the platter did the trick. Only slightly sweet, they helped clean the palate leaving a pleasantly tart and fruity aftertaste to counterbalance the robust flavour of the roast duck.

Relaxed experience - If you’re willing to wait for it.

Compared to the one other Peking duck restaurant I tried years ago, which was the flagship Quanjude in Qianmen, I found the dining experience at Siji Minfu to be much more relaxing. The duck itself was much nicer, with crispier skin than the one in Quanjude. The restaurant’s interior was maybe a bit darker, but traditional and tidy, and the service felt warmer and less hectic.

Prices seem to be aligned with other good duck restaurants, but the line might end up being a dealbreaker for some. I’d say it’s a tight squeeze if you have a lot on your schedule for the day, but if you’re ok with trying off-peak hours and still wait a bit, the restaurant’s well worth a visit.

This accidental Siji Minfu review is not the end of it.
The quest for the best Peking duck in Beijing will be back on next time I’m in town.