db Eats: Min Jiang

While locally sourced seasonal produce has weaved its way onto the menus of most forward-thinking restaurants in the capital, there remains a disconnect with many a Londoner between the food we eat and its origin.

Us city dwellers don’t like to dwell upon where our food has come from. Waking up to grey skies, concrete and car horns rather than rolling hills, rivers and birdsong, it’s easy to detach yourself from the meat you eat, almost to the point where you forget your burger once mooed, or that your sausage used to enjoy rolling around in mud.

It’s convenient to maintain a barrier between farm and plate. The less we think about it, the less guilty we feel. Min Jiang however, brings you face-to-face with the animal you’re about to eat. If you pre-order the restaurant’s famed Beijing duck, the bird is theatrically wheeled to your table on a platter, head and beak still very much attached. Having been roasted in a wood-fired oven, the crispy skin is caramel coloured, its glossy coat as lustrous as newly varnished mahogany.

Dim sum selection

Named after the Min River in China’s Sichuan province, Min Jiang occupies a sweeping space on the 10th floor of the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington.

Aside from the duck, one of the restaurant’s biggest draws is the view it affords across Hyde Park, taking in the Royal Albert Hall and Kensington Palace. Walls are Soviet red and display cabinets filled with blue and white Ming vases.

Reassuringly, around 50% of the clientele are Chinese, rising to 80% at weekends. Sat at a table facing Kensington Palace, as the evening drew on, the vista gradually dissolved, consumed by the inky blue of night.

Kicking off the feast with crispy fried squid flecked with chili and garlic, I was brought a portion the size of Mount Hengshang. While beautifully cooked, offering light, crunchy batter and the ideal amount of heat, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have attempted to scale its peak with such gusto, but rather left more valuable appetite space for the delicious duck.

Next came a colourful array of steamed dim sum as plump as Lindsay Lohan’s lips, their translucent coats gleaming as if they’d just been rained on. With silver tipped chopsticks I ventured in. Still piping hot, innards were juicy and soft, the punchy crab and prawn parcels winning out over the mild mannered pumpkin and vegetable.

Min Jiang’s famed Beijing duck

While accomplished in their own right, the squid and dim sum were but entertaining supporting acts to the main event. Thoughts soon turned to the duck. Having pre-ordered it before I arrived, the anticipation had been building for days.

Two Chinese chefs in white hats and surgical gloves nervously shuffled to my table wheeling the bird, head still attached, on a trolley. Brandishing a carving knife, one of the chefs proceeded to hack into the flesh inches from me, cutting into its glinting mahogany skin to reveal moist flesh beneath.

This is culinary theatre at its most wicked; a slasher movie rather than a rom com. With the whole bird at your disposal, the duck comes in two acts: act one sees it cut into slices to be crammed into paper-thin pancakes slathered with hoisin and stuffed with shredded leek and cucumber.

There’s also an edgier option of minced raw garlic, radish and pickled cabbage.But before I get rolling, I’m encouraged to take a square of crispy skin and dip it in sugar. Almost dripping in fat, the sugar coating makes the skin taste more like the mini doughnuts you buy on Brighton pier than anything Oriental.

Carved Beijing duck and crispy skin

As for the pancakes, by itself the duck is rich, juicy and crispy in all the right places, and from within the pancakes it sings. Yes, it’s a dish you can order at your local takeaway, but I challenge you to find better duck in the capital.

And if pancakes don’t set your Chinese lantern alight then there’s always act two, where you have the option of duck in four guises: minced in a lettuce wrap, floating in a vegetable soup, sliced in noodles or diced in rice.

I opted for the latter and wasn’t disappointed – the generous mound of sticky brown rice was full of flavour, though the duck to rice ratio could have been higher.

Service at Min Jiang runs the gamut from formal to friendly, with some of the staff more at ease with their customers than others. Head sommelier Kenny Chan is MJ’s star player, his infectious charm and unbridled enthusiasm animating the serene space.

Chan’s recommendation of Mud House Central Otago Pinot Noir 2010 as a pairing for the duck was spot on, the soft, silky palate of ripe red fruit bringing added vitality to the dish and gliding through the fat.

Min Jiang has much to offer ­– there’s a sense of occasion about the place that harks back to the days when dining out was reserved to mark important events. As you’ve probably guessed, the duck is a must, but they don’t do doggy bags so come hungry, bring a ravenous dining buddy and fill your beaks.

Min Jiang, Royal Garden Hotel, 2-24 Kensington High Street, London W8 4PT; Tel: +44 (0)20 7361 1988