Quack Quack Quack...Peking Duck

As promised, but quicker than I thought, I'm back in DC for some business and in dire need to check out the Peking Duck Inn. After a quick bite downtown for lunch with Sue I head down south to Virginia to get my pearly whites cleaned. No new cavities and minor gingivitis; sounds like an A+ checkup for me. I have to admit I do have one cavity my father found a few years ago. I felt horrible; like I let him down as a son. As my father being my dentist in all, he told me he wasn't upset but just disappointed. Thats like ten times worse! The guilt still haunts me to this day.

Afterwards, we drive down some ugly looking highway until we get to the Peking Duck Inn. It's in this non-desrcript strip mall that look more like Little El Salvador than Chinatown. But those are usually the best places. You walk in and there are framed pictures that cover the entire place with famous actors, government officials and presidents. As my father told me, when it first opened back in the 70s there was just open small room, which now has transformed into 3 huge dining rooms. We get seated and don't even open the menu, cabbage salad to start, some wonton soup and the peking duck. Done and done. My father, Scott (who always seems to tag along when my dad is footing the bill) and I start salivating as we see orders upon orders of these little crispy ducks get sliced table side by the waiter. These tux-clad Chinese waiters are amazing, they literally do everything for you. They are so attentive they even open your wet nap for you. Only if they fed me and open and closed my jaw, I wouldn't have to move a muscle through the whole dinner. Once our duck finally arrived, accompanied with scallions, hoisin sauce and pancakes, the waiter explained exactly how to make one of these little bundles of joy. Two slices of duck, a piece of candy tasting skin, nab of hoisin sauce and a few scallions. I pretended I didn't understand so he would just roll them all for me. The duck lived up to the billing. Smokey and tender dark meat with the sweetness of the sauce and skin and the crunch of the scallions. Now only if they could wheel me to my car...

In case some of my whooping 18 readers are curious why I'm home on "business"; don't worry, this visit wasn't for a potential job or anything like that. Just thinking how ridiculous that sounds makes me giggle like a little school girl. Again, why would you even think it was for a job? Remember, "Hey, I'm retired at 28!"