Table Of Content
The duck came out pre-assembled, on a platter with crunchy, multi-colored shrimp chips. The warm, steamed clamshell buns tasted fresher than most. The hoisin was thick and less sweet than usual, rather lip-smacking. The meat was slightly too salty but without fat, and the skin was fine and crisp, well above average.
Noodles and Fried Rice
Crispy fish fillet coated with seaweed and served with pepper and salt. Jumbo prawns wok-roasted with spiced pepper salts on a bed of lettuce. Fancier digs than most other Chinatown restaurants and a friendly BYOB policy.
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Delivery up to and within 15 city streets of the restaurant.
Steamed Pork Dumplings
One friend said of his, "It could be a paper towel." The meat was tender, the skin was crisp under all that fat but rather bland. You might find yourself packing the pancake with scallions to enhance the flavor. Peking duck House is a bargain, but it's no banquet.
Sliced Jellyfish
The rather plain outdoor eating area hugs the curb, sheltered from the rain and fringed with potted sansevieria, its green tongues shooting skyward. I paid a visit with two friends to see how this old favorite had survived the coronavirus. Bring a group to this crowd-pleasing Midtown restaurant and share a bunch of dim sum and Szechuan dishes.
When I tell friends that, most ignore me and stuff the meat in with the skin. Next came scallion pancakes ($5.95), intended to help us carbo-load further before the duck arrived, like athletes preparing for a sprint. The two small, thick pancakes, well browned, were not the thin and flaky flatbreads we’d expected, but good nonetheless. At the same time, our vegetable component arrived, a magnificent platter of baby bok choy and black mushrooms ($15.50), with a woodsy savor and a broth worth slurping afterwards. A combination of fresh scallops and crab meat, lightly sauteed in white sauce and adorned with broccoli. Sea scallops cooked until crispy, coated with a delicate, tangy, spicy sauce and served with fried bean curd.
Our dining area has also expanded with the intent of given our diner more space, not to fit more tables. In a casual, comfortable and contemporary setting, the restaurant has two main dining areas and a private room for special events. Shredded chicken, snow peas, water chestnuts, red pepper and baby corn sauteed in Szechuan peppery sauce. I'm a long-time patron, so I was impressed with recent renovation that made the two dining areas attractive and the bathrooms tolerable. New Yorkers come here because prices are reasonable and it's BYOB. The bird that emerges from the kitchen is exceptionally attractive, first presented whole and then carved nearby.
S10. Szechuan Scallops with Crispy Bean Curd
Overall the dish was so insubstantial one guest said, "It would have been okay if I'd gotten the whole thing for myself." The waiter immediately started assembling jumbo Peking duck packages the size of burritos. The pancakes were oversized, gummy, cold, and tasteless, the worst of any I had.
Shrimp in Garlic Sauce
You can probably guess the first - this place serves really good Peking duck. The long menu has lots of other options (like dim sum, mala chicken, and a giant plate of seafood with scallops and shrimp), but you come here for the juicy, crispy duck that’s carved tableside. The second thing to know about this Chinatown spot is that it’s BYOB. Combine the two, and you get a pretty ideal group dinner option. The two-floor space has a bunch of big tables for large parties, but this place is very popular, so you should make a reservation by phone ahead of time. The duck was big, fat, and golden, lovely enough to pose for a poultry portrait.
Most of the flavor was delivered by the scallions and the sauce. The pancakes came in steamer baskets, but they were too firm and so small a friend described them as "Pringles." Scallions, cucumbers, and hoisin arrived in a three-part ceramic dish. The duck had been carved and reassembled, meat on the bottom and fat-free skin layered over the top, a meticulous process that probably accounted for the skin being cold and flabby. The sections of skin had been poorly cut and required yanking to pull apart. The meat was moist and tender, with hints of spices, the best I had.
Soon a platter of perfectly fanned meat and skin was delivered, along with a metal bowl of cucumbers and scallions and a reservoir of hoisin. Finally, a filigreed metal steamer of flaky wheat pancakes arrived and the waiter doffed the lid, sending up a plume of steam that fogged our glasses. The pancakes were outsized — a detail the restaurant is famous for — and so perfectly formed and stacked that we hesitated to remove the first one.
NYC Chinese Restaurant Red Farm Serves a Delightful Roast Duck - Eater NY
NYC Chinese Restaurant Red Farm Serves a Delightful Roast Duck.
Posted: Wed, 22 Apr 2020 07:00:00 GMT [source]
An unsmiling cook wearing a big toque will cut large, even slices, but he will make no effort to remove the fat. One pal came bearing a bottle of pink Spanish cava, which turned out to be a perfect celebratory beverage, bubbles tickling our noses as we ate a meal comprising three courses. But how would the ritual of the dish be translated into sidewalk service, we wondered as we sat down, popped the cork, and began enjoying ourselves in earnest. The dish is likely six or seven centuries old, and is among the foremost culinary accomplishments of the Chinese capital. Fresh scallops lightly sauteed in ma-la Szechuan spices. Jumbo prawns flash-fried to perfection done and finished in a refreshing sauce with a hint of citrus.
The duck usually comes sliced, accompanied by a julienne of scallions and cucumbers, hoisin or other bean-based sauce, and a steamer of pancakes, or sometimes folded bao instead. The Peking duck was served in steamed clamshell buns. The waiter did the assembling while we watched, creating little sandwiches with scallions sticking out every which way, the porcupine look.
Strips of tender filet mignon sauteed with fresh garlic sauce and adorned with broccoli. Fresh scallops, lightly fried, sauteed and topped with sesame seeds in our special oyster sauce. One neon sign in a window reads Bar, the other Open Late. The dining area is dark and rustic, with a communal table seating 22, very fifteenth century. The restroom has a Japanese toilet with a control panel, very twenty-first century. One wall features a mural, the Last Supper, with ducks instead of people.
Not a bad thing, really, though I wondered if some interloper would turn, grab a slice, and scamper away. Very few will find in the heart of Chinatown neighborhood a place to not only enjoy great food, but to also remove themselves from the normally erratic neighborhood. After 20 plus years of being in the business, in 2004, our Chinatown location was given a well deserved modern makeover. Transforming our exterior framework into a delicate balance of steel, glass and wood trimmings and giving our interior some needed color, texture and personality. Upon stepping through the front door, you will be delighted by the combined arrangements of floral, textiles and lighting. Ambiant lighting in the back dresses the main floor, while a softer single light hung above the side tables are meant for the more intimate dinners.
Service was first-rate, our waiter a master articulator. The Peking duck was presented like most dishes here, beautifully. I went to ten restaurants, some that specialize in Peking duck, some that simply have it on the menu.
