44 Best Restaurants in Beijing, China

You won't go wrong with the namesake dish at this world-famous eatery. Dadong's version features crisp, caramel-hued skin (over meat that's less oily than tradition dictates) and is served with crisp sesame pockets in addition to the usual steamed pancakes.

This beautiful courtyard restaurant serves refined Yunnan food. What's more, the menu is fixed, so this is an excellent choice for those who don't want to misfire on the ordering.

This Taiwanese restaurant specializes in beautifully crafted xiaolong bao—steamed dumplings that are filled with piping hot, aromatic soup. Crab, chicken, and duck are lovely alternatives to the standard pork dumplings, or go wild with the black-truffle option.

Inside the glassed-in kitchen of this Grand Hyatt restaurant, white-robed chefs artfully twirl floury noodles and efficiently hook beautifully bronzed Peking ducks on poles outside tall brick ovens. Although pricey, it's Chinese dining at its finest.

Staff dressed in richly hued, Qing-dynasty attire welcome you at this grand courtyard house, the Bai family mansion. Featured delicacies (ordered via an iPad) include bird's-nest soup, braised sea cucumber, abalone, and authentic imperial snacks.

This cheerful, homey joint offers dozens of creative dumpling fillings alongside classics such as pork and cabbage. The colorful purple, green, or orange dumpling wrappers, made by adding vegetable juice to the dough, are equally delightful.

Like other branches in this popular chain of glitzy, see-and-be-seen restaurants, this one dishes up Taiwanese favorites to a largely young, upwardly mobile clientele. A delicious choice is the "three-cup chicken" (sanbeiji), served in a sizzling pot fragrant with ginger, garlic, and basil.

Heaping platters of grilled-lamb skewers, house-made flatbreads, and other hearty fare feature greatly on the menu here. It's also less flashy than some of Beijing's other Xinjiang establishments.

Just because this restaurant offers excellent value for the money, doesn't mean you'll have to forego the celebratory experience of having your Peking duck carved tableside. The service is a bit brusque, but that's all part of its authentic Beijing charm.

Hotpot restaurants are plentiful in northern China, but few do it better than Ding Ding Xiang, a self-proclaimed "hotpot paradise." Diners order a variety of meats, sliced paper thin, as well as seafood, mushrooms, tofu and vegetables to be cooked at the table in a wide selection of broths (the wild mushroom broth is a must for mycophiles), or, better yet, order a partitioned pot to accommodate multiple soup varieties. The dipping sauces, used in the final stage of eating, are thick and delicious. Despite the surly service and gaudy decor, this place is perennially crowded.

Founded in 1903, this classic Beijing Hui (Chinese Muslim) restaurant now has branches all over the city. Their specialty is mutton hotpot famous for three attributes: high-quality meat, sliced paper-thin, and served with delicious sesame sauce. Dining here is by dunk and dip, cooking the meat slices (shuan rou) and other accompaniments in a cauldron of bubbling soup at the table. The best part is near the end, when the broth reaches a tongue-tingling climax. Zhima shaobing (small baked sesame bread) is the perfect accompaniment.

Be warned: Sichuan spices can be addictive. This restaurant's signature dish is shuizhuyu, sliced fish cooked in an oily broth brimming with scarlet chili peppers and piquant peppercorns. The impossibly delicate fish melts in the mouth like butter, while the chilies and peppercorns tingle the lips. It's a sensory experience that heat-seekers will want to repeat over and over. Red-faced diners test the limits of their spice tolerance over dandan noodles and koushuiji ("mouthwatering") chicken, a salad dish of tender meat tossed with cilantro in spicy oil. The service is unfriendly but efficient.

"Haiwan" means "a bowl as deep as the sea," a fitting name for an eatery that specializes in big bowls of hand-pulled noodles. A xiao er (a "young brother" in a mandarin-collar shirt) greets you with a shout, echoed in thundering chorus by the rest of the staff. The hustle and bustle and rustic decor re-creates the atmosphere of an old teahouse. There are two types of noodles: guoshui, noodles that have been rinsed and cooled; and guotiao, meaning "straight out of the pot," ideal for winter days. Vegetables, including diced celery, radish, green beans, bean sprouts, cucumber, and scallions, are placed on individual small dishes to be mixed in by hand. Hand-pulled noodles are deliciously doughy and chewy, a texture that can only be achieved by strong hands repeatedly stretching the dough.

Snacks and various forms of entertainment make the long waits to get into this hotpot restaurant almost enjoyable. Once inside, expect bubbling pots of broth and more sauces and things for dipping than you can count.

More familial than fancy, this cozy restaurant serves Yunnan staples such as Bai-minority goat cheese with bacon (smoked in-house), potato balls (fluffy inside, addictively crisp outside), zingy mint salads, and delicate rice noodle dishes. It's also just a stone's throw from the Bell Tower.

On a tree-lined street in the heart of Beijing's embassy district, this large, Yunnan restaurant, adorned with decorative crafts and paintings from China's southwest, serves as an excellent introduction to the light, fresh, and spicy flavors of the province. Staff in traditional dress dish up crispy potato pancakes, eggs stir-fried with fragrant jasmine flowers, or tilapia folded over lemongrass and lightly grilled.

"House of Beijing Flavors" makes up for its rather isolated location by having one of the widest selections of traditional Beijing fare in town. Dishes range from the austere, such as ma doufu (mung-bean pulp cooked in lamb fat), and zha guanchang (fried starch chips meant to imitate sausage), to more cultivated offerings, including Peking duck or slow-cooked lamb. The Beijing dessert platter is a tasty introduction to the city's long tradition of sweet snacks. The huge, open-plan dining room is bustling and fun, but can get rather smoky.

In the belly of the Opposite House hotel, this high-end Peking duck restaurant gently guides laowai (foreigners) through the crowd-pleasing hits of Chinese cuisine. A glassed-in kitchen, raised above the main dining room like a stage, reveals chefs slinging bronzed birds out of a blazing brick oven. The molasses-skinned duck is some of the best in town, and the accompaniments, like molecule-thin pancakes and a rich sauce infused with dates, completes a classy package. Accompanying dishes read like a roll call of Chinese family favorites, from mildly spiced kung pao chicken to Cantonese clay-pot fish, though the Taiwanese-style “three-cup” cod with basil ought to wow even the more seasoned palates. Save room for the delectable dan ta—Macau-style mini custard tarts.

Locals and foreigners alike pack this pleasant restaurant for affordable roast duck and tasty, varied Chinese fare with a Beijing slant. The roadside patio, garlanded by small, twinkling lights, is a lovely spot for warm weather dining.

Reliable, standard Shanxi fare is the order of the day at this slightly out-of-the-way restaurant—dishes might include the region's famous aromatic crispy duck, and "cat-ear" noodles (referring to their ovoid shape), stir-fried with meat and vegetables. End your meal with a "sweet happiness" pastry. Jinyang Fangzhuang is attached to the ancient courtyard home of Ji Xiaolan, a Qing Dynasty scholar, the chief compiler of the Complete Library of the Four Branches of Literature. You can visit the old residence without an admission fee and see Ji Xiaolan's study, where he wrote his famous essays. The crab-apple trees and wisteria planted during his lifetime still bloom in the courtyard.

A convenient pit stop when visitng Nanluoguxiang, this modest little eatery really offers only one option: a set meal of tasty Taiwanese-style lurou fan—rice with an aromatic ground pork topping complemented by a flavorful boiled egg, mixed pickled vegetables, and a simple clear soup, for less than $4. A vegetarian stew and rice set is also available. The home-brewed teas and chilled custard desserts are worth a try, too.

Hunan cuisine, or xiang cai, is famous for its extensive use of colorful chili peppers, resulting in a "dry heat" rather than the more aromatic heat of Sichuan and its famous mouth-numbing peppercorn. This contemporary Hunanese eatery puts an international spin on the region's well-known flavors, like steamed fish with fresh diced chillis, sizzling spice-roasted duck, flame-baked shrimp wrapped in tinfoil, and a giant rack of melt-in-the-mouth, spice-encrusted pork ribs. The dining room is elegant without being showy, and service is friendly and attentive.

Juicy, whole ducks roasting over fragrant pear wood greet you upon entering this simple courtyard restaurant in a ramshackle hutong neighborhood. This family-run affair, far from the crowds and commercialism of Quanjude, offers a more austere setting for Beijing's signature dish, though the place might be a little too rustic for some. It's also a little tricky to find: it's about a five-minute walk east from Qianmen Donglu, and you may have to stop to ask for directions until you start seeing duck graffiti and arrows pointing the way.

The city’s finest Yunnan restaurant is in an elegant compound just east of Tiananmen Square that was once used by the former U.S. legation. With impeccable service and a serious wine list, this Shanghai export, named after the vast and little-known "Mountain Mekong" region that straddles Yunnan, Burma, and Laos, is out to impress. Recommended dishes include crisp Dali-style chicken tumbled with green onions and chilis, “Miao” hot-and-sour shrimp, and steamed cod with Yunnan black truffle. Fun fact: the walls on the first and second floor are made of bricks of pu-ehr tea, a kind of fermented tea from Yunnan.

This sprawling basement venue offers a whirlwind culinary tour of Chinese regional styles in a brightly lit space decked out with sofas, green plants, and stylish photographs of the owner and her friends. Madam Zhu is in fact the founder of the popular Sichuan chain Yuxiang Renjia. Here she's branched out with confident updates of classic Chinese dishes, including delicate "lion's head" meatballs (a Huaiyang dish from Yangzhou) served with crab roe and freshwater bass, crispy duck, tender black-pepper tenderloin, and poached egg whites filled with crabmeat. A great place to discover a contemporary take on Chinese food unconstrained by tradition or convention.

Fluttering prayer flags lead up to the second floor entrance of this Tibetan restaurant, where a pile of mani (prayer) stones and a large prayer wheel greet you. Elegant Tibetan Buddhist trumpets, lanterns, and handicrafts adorn the walls, and the kitchen serves a range of hearty dishes that run well beyond the region's staples of tsampa (roasted barley flour) and yak-butter tea.

In a plush courtyard on Houhai's south bank, Mei Fu oozes intimate elegance. The interior is filled with antique furniture and velvet curtains punctuated by pebbled hallways and waterfalls. Black-and-white photos of Mei Lanfang, a famous opera star who performed female roles, hang on the walls. Diners choose from set menus, starting at Y588 per couple for dinner, which feature typical Jiangsu and Zhejiang cuisine, such as stir-fried shrimp, tender leafy greens, and dates filled with glutinous rice.

In the heart of Sanlitun's shopping and dining district, this trendy Yunnan restaurant, known as a celebrity haunt, is a great place to wrap up a day's exploring. Deep earth tones, soaring ceilings, and traditional handicrafts are a relaxing setting to enjoy sticky-sweet pineapple rice, sizzling platters of Yunnan beef with fried potatoes, "crossing the bridge" rice noodles, and the restaurant's signature paijiu mushrooms. Don't miss the delicious staple of sweet potato rice with mushrooms and chives. The libation of choice here is a tall bamboo pitcher of mijiu, a cloudy, low-alcohol rice wine with a sweet, fragrant taste.

A peaceful hutong is the setting for this welcoming Hunan restaurant, whose signature dish is Chairman Mao's favorite: hong shao rou (braised pork belly). The food is almost unrelentingly spicy; if you can handle the heat, though, it's worth it.