Decoy

Eddie Schoenfeld and his partner in crime, chef Joe Ng, prepare only 25 birds every evening at this first-rate little Peking-duck atelier down on Hudson Street, and all of them are hand-picked from local farms out on Long Island. The steamed pancakes with which these plump, tender birds are served are hand-rolled every day, which is rarely the case down in Chinatown, and hoisted to the table in steamy bamboo baskets. The hoisin sauce is made in-house, too, (they give you a variety of other newfangled sauces, but disregard them), and the scallions were so fresh the last time we dropped in, that you could taste them in the back of your nose. But the key, as always, with this challenging, temperamental dish is the beautifully cooked bird, and in particular, that sacred Communion wafer (or matzo, if you will) of the holy Peking-duck experience: the skin, which, thanks to Ng’s special fat-rendering technique, is crackly, melting, and parchment thin.