Duck eating and Cat strangling

The woman on the stage was giving it her all, screeching as
if every cat in China was being strangled when the first call went up.
"Engrish!"
She valiantly ignored the interruption and carried on with
her performance. 

“Engrish!” 

By now all heads had turned to me, Caucasian tourists are
still a surprisingly rare sight in Beijing and most Chinese see nothing
whatsoever wrong in wandering up, having a good chuckle in your face and
leaving again. It's not malicious. It’s meant in a good natured way-I think! 

“Engrish!”

I spotted an annoyed glare on the stage and the shrieking
faltered for a second. To be fair to her despite the fact the she’d been completely
upstaged she carried on regardless, no doubt with a new found hatred for short
ginger tourists.

That was earlier today. 

I tried my first proper Beijing Duck this evening.

Beijing Duck has a long and incredibly complex history with
one of it’s newcomers dating back to the third year of the
Tongzhi of Qing dynasty (1864)  One particular duck destination claims to
have been around since the 13th century.
Despite lots of competition there are two bitter rivals
in the city, Quanjude and Dadong and I’ll be visiting both while I’m here. My
original plan was to create a “duckdex” and score each contender out of 10
beaks with the winner getting another visit from me but that proved too
complicated to create (I couldn’t be bothered)            

Tonight I tried out Quanjude, supposedly the biggest
restaurant in the world on four floors, plus two “secret” floors, blanked out
on the lift menu. Rumour has it the 4th floor is where Presidents
and Party Officials eat but I, clad in jeans and a grubby t.shirt covered in tofu
stains was relegated to the third. 
Supposedly you need a booking for Quanjude.
I did try. I accidentally booked for 111 people and no one replied. Not a big
deal, I was greeted within seconds of arriving by a woman in what appeared to
be a red dressing gown clutching a radio and introduced to an army of fellow
walkie talkie carrying dressing gowns who each led me down a different
corridor. Eventually we arrived at a huge room, (Duck Central ?) A new dressing
gown barked “read the menu!” and slapped me over the head (accidentally I
think) with a copy of War and Peace in Mandarin. I really should’ve taken a
picture of the menu but I was concussed. Flicking, dazed through the tome I
came to the end, eventually and the last few pages of shark fin soup, turtle
etc, retailing for more than a month’s wage in the West Midlands. I was only here
for one thing though and it had webs not fins.

In retrospect I ordered far, far too much. A plate of
green things, a dessert of taro, condiments (your pancakes, sugar, soy sauce
and spring onion cost extra) an almond juice and a coke. Oh and of course the
Duck!

Ordering just half the bird I missed out on the
entertainment bit where a chef carves at your table, or maybe they just didn’t
think it was worth it for me dining alone. 
So I elbowed a rich looking family out of the way and jammed my camera
against their table. 
If I have any complaints about Quanjude it’s that the
condiments arrive ages after your duck has. Your assigned dressing gown is
meant to show you how to wrap the juicy duck in the pancake and dip the crispy
skin in sugar, unfortunately by the time she got to me I’d eaten most of it.
She looked a bit confused and departed muttering something into her radio. 

The skin was delicious! The duck meat itself was tasty but
far too greasy and I have absolutely no idea what the thing in the bowl was. I
couldn’t quite bring myself to touch it. 

If anyone has an idea contact me and I’ll buy you an
inferior Chinese meal of your choice back home in either London or Stoke.

In all the meal came to 230 Yuan (about £25) excellent value
all things considered the amount. 

It’ll be interesting to see if Dadong matches up. Apparently
their duck is leaner and less greasy. 

One final mention goes to the humble pancake. Forget what
passes for a duck pancake in British-Chinese restaurants! Just forget it.
Quanjude=Pancake heaven!