One of the pleasures of dining in China’s capital is sampling the cuisine called “old Beijing flavor,” which includes the traditional, old-time local favorites people remember from the days of their parents, grandparents, and beyond.  One of my favorite places for “old Beijing flavor”,  Dao Jia Chang, also comes with an utterly authentic environment, complete with occasional screeching parrots and, in summer, old men with their undershirts pushed up over bare bellies to their armpits. They have one of the city’s best versions of  jing jiang rou si, piping hot, piquant shredded pork and crispy-cold spring onions rolled up in tofu-skin wrappers, and shao bing jia rou mo,  small sesame cakes which you split open and stuff with seasoned minced pork.  I love the yang you ma doufu, which is fermented mung bean curd drizzled with lamb oil and heaped with chopped scallions and dried red chile peppers. Ooh la la. If you have the cojones for fermented food, this will drive you around the bend and also be like nothing else you've ever eaten. Those who dislike strong cheese need not apply. Dao Jia Chang, #20 Guangxi Men Beili, in the Xibahe area, near the Chongqing Hotel. Tel. 6422-1078. Meals are served at old-fashioned times and they close in between, meaning lunch is 11-2 and dinner 5-9. The place tends to be packed at peak hours. If you call at those times you may be told a table that day is flat impossible. Yet I find that just showing up (sans reservation) around 1 for lunch or around 8 for dinner almost always circumvents the problem. Dao Jia Chang is also on a small side street and sometimes taxi drivers don't know how to locate the address. Simply have your hotel desk call the restaurant before you set out and write down explicit instructions in Chinese in case your taxi driver needs them.

Xiao Wang’s Home Restaurant interprets traditional Beijing food in an upscale, hip, expensive, and gorgeously placed restaurant in serene Ritan Park. Often the food itself does not really soar,  but the extensive menu (with photographs) is complemented by a full bar and a sophisticated ambience, making this the place to come when someone slightly stuffy, like your boss or your in-laws, wants to try “old Beijing flavor”.  Xiao Wang’s Home Restaurant, Ritan Park, Chaoyang District, 8651-7859. English menu, with photos.    

On the basis of food alone, Hua Jia Yiyuan is an outstanding place for home-style, traditional Beijing flavor.  Their three locations include modern restaurants and one branch in an old courtyard house, but whether the setting is old-timey or modern swank, the cuisine itself is consistently excellent. The long and well-organized menu, with photos, gives more guidance than usual to the foreign diner, too.  As an added bonus, the place is open 24 hours, for those moments when you need baked walnuts with bamboo shoots and crispy tofu skins stuffed with lean duck meat and minced mushrooms at four A.M.  Hua Jia Yiyuan, No 235 Dongzhimennei Street,  Dong Chang District, 6405-1908.   

Many people feel a visit to Beijing is not complete without a Peking duck meal.  I have three favorites to offer, depending on your mood. If you are in the mood for a small place, a frankly funky courtyard house that typifies how most people lived in the 1970s when I first came to China and is somehow, remarkably,  still intact, head straight for Li Qun.  The duck is excellent, and the pancakes are as thin and delicate as silk. By all means order the crispy fried duck intestines, served with sliced raw chiles;  our table practically fought over them. The chef worked for many years at the nearby Quanjude, a venerable roast duck restaurant, and finally decided to open his own place in his home. This is a time capsule experience. Li Qun Roast Duck Restaurant, No.  11 Beixiangfeng, Zhengyi Rd., Qianmendong St. 6705-5578.

Of course there are times when you want a fancy Peking Duck dinner, one where an extensive and interesting menu complements the roast duck experience.  That is the time to go to Da Dong, where, when it comes to their specialty dish,  they have also developed a much-vaunted method of reducing the layer of duck fat between the skin and the breast. And they  serve the full complement of traditional Peking duck condiments, not just slivered spring onion and plum sauce, but also julienned watermelon radish, pureed garlic, and coarse sugar.  One of the best dishes we had was braised winter bamboo shoots with herbs, served in bamboo cups. Da Dong, Tuanjie Hu Beikou No. 3, 6582-2892.  

When you want something in between, a clean place that’s classy enough but not fancy, a place with one sole purpose – delivering great duck flavor – head to Xiang Man Lou.  Duck is the star here, and they are carving them in the aisles all day long.  Duck is on every table, and while their pancakes are not as ethereal as those as Li Qun,  they do go beyond the usual duck accents of scallion, cucumbers and plum sauce to add an “old Beijing” touch – pickled vegetables, for a little snap. Xiang Man Lou, Zhongjie Xinyuanxili, Chao Yang District. 6467-4391. 

I have heard food scholars say the principal influence on 'Beijing flavor' is the light, clear cuisine of Shandong, exemplified by one of its most famous dishes, wonton soup. Yet the Manchus who ruled China throughout the Qing Dynasty left their culinary mark on the capital too, even if their food tends to be underestimated----dismissed, in its pre-imperial form, as a simple hunter's cuisine of roasted meats. Perhaps people are still ticked off at having been conquered? In any case, Manchu food is far more sophisticated and subtle than that, as you can experience for yourself at the popular Najia Xiaoguan, where some of the most interesting dishes actually feature vegetables. I am a great fan of toon leaves (a vegetable I have never seen in the West);  their earthy, powerfully spiky taste transforms the mild flavor of a cold tofu plate, for example. Najia serves a wonderful salad of toon sprouts (pictured left), lightly dressed and topped with tiny, savory  dried fish. Divine. Julienned radish mixed with 'dried meat floss' and wrapped in a steamed cabbage leaf to be sliced sushi style (pictured left) was also wonderful, as were fried mushrooms in goose liver sauce.  'Tossed mutton liver with daisy-like vegetable' (pictured below) pleasingly combined the rich taste of the liver with the sharp, arugula-ish greens, and was a reminder of mutton's importance in all the cuisines of north China. Though it does not seem particularly Manchurian,  one of the house specialties is 'fried shrimp with crisp skin in secret recipe' (pictured above), nicely sauced, butterflied prawns with papery shells so fragile each one can be eaten whole--a crowd pleaser, to be sure, but I liked the veggies even more. We ordered 'baked bread with minced venison and Chinese dates' and it turned out to be braised pork belly. Huh?? I wish we'd ordered the celery with salmon roe and caviar instead, or the 'beef ribs with rice stem flavor'. Najia Xiaoguan, in an alley west of the 119 Middle School, south of the LG twin towers, Yonganli, Jianguomenwai Dajie, Chaoyang District, 6567-3663 or 6568-6553. Near the Yonganli metro stop. Reservations needed. There is also a branch in the Haidian District (the university area to the west), south of the Fragrant Hills Botanical Garden crossroad, 8259-8588. 

Those who want to experience a more specifically imperial meal might seek a reservation at the venerable Li Jia Cai--but don't wait too late, as this small courtyard house often fills up well in advance. Here, a pricey but memorable prix-fixe dinner carries out a Palace food tradition handed down through four generations. The current elder patriarch, retired math professor Li Shanlin (at this writing he is pushing 90), had a grandfather who was one of the last commanders of the Palace Guard in the Forbidden City. This grandfather was obsessed with Palace cuisine, and spent decades hovering around the kitchens, watching and memorizing, then trying, refining, and recording recipes at home. He taught his son, who taught his own son, who is Li Shanlin. Their recipes were seized and destroyed during the Cultural Revolution, but the family quickly retrieved them from memory and started again. Li Shanlin had several children (one of whom he fetchingly named Einstein), and his descendants now hold forth in the kitchen, creating dishes that range from merely good to great. About ten years ago Li Shanlin told me that some younger relatives of the last Emperor Pu Yi--they were children together in the Forbidden City--had come in to eat, and remarked to him that these were the flavors and dishes they remembered. Li Jia Cai, 11 Yangfang Hutong, Deshengmennei Dajie, Xicheng District, 6618-0107. Reservations essential. 

The spicy food of Sichuan has become popular in the West, and many people want to try it when they visit Beijing. Dish for dish, I believe the best Sichuan food in the city may be Chuan Ban (the Sichuan Government Restaurant), located on the first floor of the government building housing Sichuan’s bureaucrats in the capital. Trust the provincial officials to have the city’s best Sichuan in their office building! This restaurant is a bit of a dinosaur; it’s a state-owned enterprise in an era when most of the state-owned restaurants have closed or privatized.  As a result, Chuan Ban only opens at traditional mealtimes, 10:00-2:00 for lunch and 4:00-10:00 for dinner. And its many marvelous dishes are offered on a huge menu without much organization or explanation, despite the English translations and the pictures.  Most Westerners are completely unfamiliar with the broad, complex range of Sichuan cuisine, so it can be very difficult to know what to order here – especially with every table in the huge place packed and an impatient waiter standing over you.  And this is not Sichuan for sissies, either; the bar for heat is set high – two stars is hot, and I say that as someone whose first phrase in Chinese, after hello and goodbye, was ‘the hotter the better, please.’  Yet many dishes which balance the menu pack no heat at all, like one of my all-time favorites, braised fresh broad beans in a whisper-light dressing, flavored with the chopped leaves of the Chinese toon tree – a deeply unusual fresh herb with a musky, spiky, herbaceous taste that transforms the mild blandness of the beans. This wonder is unhelpfully translated on the menu as ‘broad bean with vicia faba’.  I also loved ‘steamed lamb with rice flour’, tender, flavorful chunks of lamb basket-steamed in a bed of soft, coarsely crumbled glutinous rice with minced garlic, topped with a mince of fresh cilantro and dried red chiles.  Back home, I thought of this dish so often I even tried, without much success, to make it. Chuan Ban, Jianguomen Gongyuantoutiao #5, 6512-2277. 

If your only exposure to Sichuan food has been the very narrow slice of it normally served in the West, you may want to experience a complete prix-fixe meal designed to give you a broad and well-balanced acquaintance with the food of this region. The Source, gorgeously located in a restored hutong house built around a central courtyard and graciously furnished in period style, offers elaborate, set Sichuan dinners beginning at 158 yuan per person (about $22 USD; higher price levels basically use more expensive ingredients such as seafoods.)  A fascinating sequence of cold dishes, hot dishes, various dainties, and a dessert kept our table happy through a long leisurely meal, with a lot of small plates to allow diners to try different things.  The Source, No. 14 Banchang Hutong, South Luogu Xiang Kuan Road. 6400-3736. Next to Lu Song Yuan Guesthouse.  

If you are an adventurous diner who wants to check out a new Beijing food trend, ask local friends or a knowledgeable concierge to steer you to a good ma la xiang gu place--but only if you like big, bright, super-spicy flavors; this Sichuan-style variant on the hot pot experience is a real brow-mopper.  It is difficult to direct you to the one I went to in the Haidian district, but inexpensive ma la xiang gu places have sprung up in many parts of town. Hot pot is broth-based, cooked at the table by the diners who have ordered the prepped ingredients from a long menu of possibilities;  ma la xiang gu also begins with the diner ordering from a long list of potential ingredients, but in this case everything is stir-fried in the kitchen in hot oil loaded with chiles, spices, herbs, leaves and pods of all kinds--some of which even our wait staff could not identify. The whole sizzling wok is then brought to the table. Our group of seven picked out every edible morsel, cooling the fire with fruit juice, cold water, or beer. The words 'ma la' mean numbing and hot, shorthand for the combination of Sichuan peppercorn and red chiles which are at the heart of the Sichuan flavor profile. This is a meal guaranteed to bring on a flush or a sweat. Just check out the postprandial pic of me and the intrepid Lillian Chou--don't we look happy?

One challenge to anyone visiting Beijing is the traffic: I won’t lie to you, it’s awful. Despite ubiquitous and reliable taxis, moving around on surface streets  -- or using the metro and your feet -- can take a lot of time. For this reason it’s always nice to know of an excellent restaurant right next to major tourist attraction, where you might find yourself at mealtime. Li Qun, profiled above, is close to Qianmen, the only one of Beijing's city gates to remain standing, which is located on the southern end of Tiananmen Square. If you go to the Yonghegong, one of the city’s most visited temples, an outstanding lunch can be had a short walk away at Jin Ding Xuan, a dim sum palace. The name means “Golden Tripod Attic” and indeed the sprawling restaurant looks old inside, full of latticed wood and narrow stairs.  Close to 100 dim sum dishes, including many items not seen in the West and lots of specialty noodles, porridges and soups, are offered on a laminated menu complete with English translations and tiny photos. Jin Ding Xuan, #77 Yonghegongqiao, Heping Xijie. 6429-688. 

And should you feel the need for a meal or an excellent drink after spending an afternoon exploring the Drum Tower and its surrounding historic neighborhood, slip into Café Sambal. It may not be a great cuisine destination, but it's a truly wonderful place to relax. Owner Cho is from Malaysia; he's re-done an old courtyard house to make it feel like your hip home away from home. The bar makes terrific mojitos and caipirinhas, the Malaysian-Chinese food is consistently good (don't miss the addictive four-corner beans in 'cashew nut sauce'; these goa beans are actually sauced with a paste of garlic and ground candle-nuts, which are closer to macadamias). The atmosphere is sophisticated, welcoming, and relaxed. No wonder ex-pats and Chinese alike fill this place every evening. Certain friends of mine have been known to spend more time at Cafe Sambal, late at night, than they do in their own apartments. Café Sambal, #43 DouFuChi Hutong, Jiu Gulou Da Jie, 6400-4875. Located just inside a small hutong several hutongs north of the drum tower on Jiugulou. On the east side of Jiugulou, where it intersects with this hutong (on that corner there also happens to be a public bathroom) a white sign announces Café Sambal. The restaurant/bar is actually located just inside the hutong. A  short walk from the Bamboo Garden Hotel.