From a single piece of critical feedback to an empire selling nearly one million birds a year, Dong Zhen-xiang explains how he engineered a leaner, hyper-crisp alternative to traditional Peking duck
To understand why anyone would dare to tamper with Peking duck, you must first recognise the sheer weight of its history. It’s a centuries-old culinary monument born in the imperial kitchens of the Ming Dynasty, where it was cooked exclusively for the court. Even its name carries a certain nostalgia; though the capital transitioned to the modern Pinyin spelling of Beijing decades ago, the dish itself firmly retains its legacy title of Peking duck in global gastronomy.
The traditional ritual remains: a native breed of white duck is pumped with air to separate the skin from the meat, blanched, coated in maltose syrup and air-dried. It is then hung inside brick ovens over open fires fuelled by fruited woods like jujube or pear, which impart a subtle, perfumed smoke. For generations, the ultimate goal was a bird with skin lacquered to a glossy, mahogany finish, celebrated for being rich but not greasy.
When done well, the classic version is magnificent. But by the late twentieth century, that delicate line between rich and greasy had started to blur for modern diners. Traditional preparations frequently left a thick, unrendered layer of soft fat beneath the skin. As palates shifted and health consciousness moved into the mainstream during the 1990s, what was once a celebrated indulgence began to feel increasingly heavy—an anachronism out of step with how people actually wanted to eat.
See also: The best Peking duck in Hong Kong

Above Hanging over an open fire of dense jujube wood, the ducks undergo a precise, highly calculated roasting process to render away subcutaneous fat
It took a man of singular, precise focus to recognise that the dish needed to evolve. Dong Zhen-xiang—whom I’ve taken to calling the godfather of roast duck—did not just tweak the edges of the recipe; he set out to alter its very structure. Standing at a towering 193cm (6’4”), he genuinely looks the part. He possesses a formidable presence that commands the room, which is matched by his namesake empire. During a recent trip to Beijing, I visited the brand’s flagship, a space that received a complete makeover in 2021 and was re-branded as Da Dong Gastro Esthetics, the chain’s most exclusive branch. The vast, high-concept dining rooms are punctuated by the chef’s own calligraphy art—a visual reminder that you are dining inside a space curated by a master who views gastronomy through an academic and artistic lens.
Long before building this contemporary empire, however, Dong was working within the rigorous boundaries of classical training. The catalyst for his radical shift from tradition was remarkably quiet, born from an evening when he hosted a dinner for two prominent figures in Chinese cultural history. His guests were Wang Shixiang—the legendary antiquarian, scholar and foremost authority on Ming-dynasty craftsmanship—and Qi Gong, a revered calligrapher, painter and lineal descendant of the Qing imperial family. These were men whose lives were entirely dedicated to the preservation of classical aesthetics, making them the ultimate arbiters of traditional taste.

Above Beijing Tuanjiehu Roast Duck Restaurant, where Dong first mastered the wok as a young stir-fry chef in the 1980s and sowed the seeds for his future duck revolution
“In 1989, I invited Wang Shi-xiang and Qi Gong to dinner. After the meal, I asked Mr Wang for his honest opinion. He paused and said seriously, ‘The duck is very well roasted. But for someone my age, it’s a little fatty.’ Those two words: ‘a little fatty’, hit me like a stone dropping into still water. They planted a seed in my mind, and it became the direct inspiration for developing a crispy and non-greasy duck.”
That single critique triggered a decade of technical experimentation. Dong looked closely at the thermodynamics of the oven and the drying process, seeking a way to strip away the cloying heaviness without sacrificing the soul of the dish.
“Peking duck’s traditional hallmark is rich but not greasy. But from the 1990s onward, consumers became more health‑conscious, and a new expectation emerged: lower in fat and oil. From the late 1980s to the late 1990s, I spent years researching, trying to find a better balance… After countless trials, the [signature] ‘crispy and non-greasy’ roast duck took shape around the year 2000. It has since evolved through five generations of refinement.”

Above Dong perfecting his craft at the open ovens in 1985, tracing a forty-year obsession with the physics of the perfect roast
The technique he perfected relies on precise temperature and humidity control during an extended cold-storage drying phase, followed by a longer, highly calculated roast over jujube wood to maximise fat rendering. It is a triumph of kitchen science.
The physical manifestation of this evolution sits prominently on the menu as the Da Dong ‘crispy and non-greasy’ roast duck. By deliberately selecting younger, 22-day-old ducklings, the kitchen ensures that the subcutaneous fat layer is naturally thinner and far easier to break down from the outset.
Sitting in the dining room, watching the white-clad kitchen brigade slice these younger birds, it is immediately clear that the duck is indeed the undisputed star of the show. It is an intensely flavourful duck with an impressively brittle skin that shatters effortlessly on the tongue, completely bypassing that slick coating of residual grease that so often plagues lesser iterations.

Above The Da Dong 22-Day crispy and non-greasy roast duck is celebrated for its flavourful meat and crisp skin
While purists might stick to the classic pairing of thin wheat pancakes, sugar and sweet bean sauce, Dong encourages an entirely different, highly textural approach utilising a hollow, miniature sesame flatbread of his own design.
“When paired with the hollow mini sesame flatbread, it’s a revelation of flavour. With our young duck in particular, the skin is extra crisp and tender. You spread a little sweet bean sauce, add a touch of minced garlic, tuck in a cucumber strip, then put it all into the hollow sesame flatbread… Three textures [crisp, tender and crunch] explode in your mouth, one after another.”
But what makes a meal here truly compelling is how Da Dong ensures that innovation remains firmly on the table. The menu playfully pushes boundaries, notably with a “roast duck pizza”. Here, he makes a deeply savoury, saucy duck topping draped in indulgent, melted cheese, all resting on a crisp flatbread crust that feels entirely coherent with his textural philosophies.

Above Dong today with the wood-fired creation that built a global culinary empire
The rest of the expansive menu proves that his technical precision extends far beyond the breast meat. He makes masterful use of off-cuts in traditional, texturally adventurous appetisers, such as chilled duck webs slicked with a sharp, nasal punch of mustard. Other standalone triumphs include the signature Da Dong braised sea cucumber, deeply glossy and gelatinous, slick with spring onion oil; a wildly addictive kung pao sunflower-bred chicken served alongside pristine white rice; and a comforting, intensely savoury Beijing-style braised eggplant.
What separates Dong from most craftsmen of his generation is this duality of intellect. He is one of the very few prominent Chinese chefs to hold an executive MBA (Master of Business Administration), a rare intersection of operational logic and creative instinct. This training allowed him to scale his concept to massive proportions, supervising an operation that now prepares nearly one million ducks annually across his locations. Yet if you ask him whether the corporate boardroom compromised the kitchen, he maintains that business metrics are merely a framework to support the underlying craft.

Above The delicate, popping texture of caviar contrasts with the airy, crisp crunch of Da Dong roast duck

Above Da Dong braised sea cucumber, showcasing a masterful balance of savoury depth and pristine texture
“The MBA changed my operational logic—standardisation, brand management. But the core elements of my cooking: restraint, balance and the Chinese idea of yì jìng (artistic conception), still come from the kitchen. These are things no business school can teach.”
With an immense global following, it would be easy to measure his impact through commercial success or international acclaim. But when reflecting on a lifetime spent at the hearth, chasing the balance between hot fat and crisp air, the godfather of roast duck views his legacy with a characteristic lack of hyperbole.
“I've never been obsessed with the word success. I’ve simply found something I love—and I’ve been willing to spend a lifetime perfecting it. If that’s what success means, then I suppose I am.”

Above The Beijing flagship balances sharp contemporary design with the dramatic presence of the chef's own calligraphy art
Da Dong Gastro Esthetics
Address: 1-2F, Nanxincang Business Tower, 22A Dongsi 10th Alley, Dongcheng, Beijing, China
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