Beijing – A Renowned City for Chinese Cuisine

The cuisine of old Beijing is characterized by its rich, mellow and savory flavor profile. It boasts both banquet staples like Quanjude Peking Roast Duck and old Beijing copper hot pot, as well as alleyway snacks etched in local memory, such as soybean milk, stewed pork entrails, and quick-boiled tripe.

If you’re visiting Beijing for the first time, I wouldn’t recommend starting with soybean milk or stewed pork entrails. Instead, you’d be better off tasting Peking Roast Duck and old Beijing copper hot pot first.

Let’s travel back through a thousand years to trace the origins of Peking Roast Duck. This dish has a long and storied history. When Emperor Chengzu of the Ming Dynasty moved the capital to Beijing, the earliest roast duck restaurant emerged— Bianyifang Roast Duck Restaurant, founded in 1416. Bianyifang pioneered the art of roasting ducks using the closed-oven method, which quickly gained popularity across the city. In 1864, Yang Quanren established Quanjude, hiring chefs from the imperial kitchen to introduce wood-fired open-oven roasted duck, which used fruit wood as fuel. This gave rise to two major schools of roast duck craftsmanship, standing alongside Bianyifang’s closed-oven style. Since then, both techniques have developed independently, and Peking Roast Duck has grown increasingly renowned worldwide. In 2008, it was even included in the second batch of the National Intangible Cultural Heritage List, cementing its status as a veritable world-class delicacy.

First, let’s delve into the craftsmanship. Quanjude adheres strictly to the open-oven roasting method. The oven is a brick structure with no door; ducks are hung inside on iron hooks and roasted over an open flame fueled by fruit wood such as jujube and pear wood. As the wood burns, it releases a unique fruity aroma that permeates the duck meat. The open flame ensures the duck skin is heated evenly, rendering excess fat to create a crisp, delicate texture while preventing the meat from becoming tough and dry. Throughout the roasting process, chefs must rotate the duck carcasses frequently to ensure uniform browning—a skill that demands impeccable control over heat and timing, and represents the essence of this centuries-old craft. Additionally, slicing the roast duck at Quanjude is a veritable tabletop performance. Skilled chefs carve each duck into exactly 108 slices (a number chosen for its auspicious connotations), with every slice featuring a perfect balance of crispy skin and tender meat, cut to uniform size and thickness. This slicing method ensures each bite contains both skin and meat, and also makes it easy to wrap the slices in pancakes—blending ceremonial flair with practicality.

Recommended Restaurants: Quanjude, Bianyifang

Now, let’s talk about old Beijing copper hot pot. In my opinion, this dish has two key merits. For one, eating hot pot is a lively, communal affair that enhances the joy of dining together. For another, hot pot offers a diverse culinary experience with a mix of meat and vegetarian options—even if you’re a vegetarian, you can find plenty of delicious plant-based choices to enjoy.

The defining feature of old Beijing copper hot pot is its pursuit of pure, unadulterated freshness through boiling meat in plain water. Unlike Sichuan hot pot, which is bold and spicy, old Beijing hot pot is more of a quiet homage to umami, focusing on preserving the natural flavors of the ingredients. The first thing that catches your eye is the hot pot itself: it’s made entirely of copper, with a chimney running through the center, and heated by charcoal fire. Copper conducts heat rapidly, while charcoal keeps the broth boiling vigorously—making it perfect for warm, comforting meals on cold winter days. The broth consists of nothing more than clear water, ginger slices, scallion sections, and a few dried shrimps—no extra seasonings are needed, because top-quality meat speaks for itself. The meat used is lamb from Inner Mongolia, widely regarded as some of the finest lamb in China. The slices are so thin they’re translucent; blanch them in the boiling broth for just 3 seconds, and they’re ready to eat—tender enough to melt in your mouth. Next comes the most crucial element, the soul of the dish: old Beijing’s “2:8 sesame paste”. It gets its name from the ratio of sesame paste to peanut butter (2 parts sesame to 8 parts peanut), which creates an irresistibly fragrant sauce. Mix it with leek flower sauce, fermented bean curd, and chopped scallions, and the result is a rich, savory dip that pairs perfectly with the lamb—so delicious you won’t be able to stop eating. Vegetarians can blanch vegetables, frozen tofu, and pickled Chinese cabbage, and dip them in the 2:8 sauce for a equally tasty treat.

When it comes to alleyway snacks, my top recommendations are lv dagun (glutinous rice rolls with red bean paste) and zhajiangmian (noodles with soybean paste). Despite its name, lv dagun (literally “donkey rolling”) has nothing to do with donkeys. It’s a glutinous rice roll filled with red bean paste, coated in soybean flour—soft, chewy, and subtly sweet, like a Beijing-style mochi, but with a distinct nutty, grainy flavor. As for zhajiangmian: noodles are tossed in a savory sauce made with diced pork belly stir-fried in sweet soybean paste, then topped with shredded cucumber, bean sprouts, and boiled soybeans. Simple yet satisfying, it’s like a Beijing take on Italian pasta with meat sauce—except with a much richer, more aromatic sauce.

In summary, old Beijing is a veritable melting pot of culinary delights from across China. You can find almost any regional dish here. So if you’re looking to experience authentic traditional Chinese cuisine, a food tour of Beijing is an absolute must.